Breaking the bizarre link between barbers and surgeons
Jonathan Smyth's latest Times Past column is on William Dease who attempted to break the link between barbers and surgeons in 18th Century Ireland. He was one of the founders of the Royal College of Surgeons in Dublin.
Perched in the hallway of the Royal College of Surgeons (RCSI), Dublin, there is a statue that greets medical students entering the building. The statue is of a medical maverick from Co Cavan, named William Dease, who was a famous 18th century surgeon whose early goal was to break the unruly, if not bizarre link that existed between barbers and surgeons and to develop surgery as a trusted profession delivered by the medically trained. Barbers in olden times carried out bloodletting, teeth pulling, minor operations and of course hair cutting.
In 1785, Dease became the Royal College of Surgeons’ first professor of surgery and, four years later, was appointed president of the same institution. William Dease died in 1798, at 46 years of age.
Born at Lisney, Co Cavan, in 1752, William Dease was a member of an historic landed Catholic family, the son of Richard Dease and Anne Dease. His education was a classical one under the tuition of Dr Clancy in Dublin. His medical training began while under an apprenticeship to Dr Keogh, referred to as a Dublin surgeon, who according to Helen Andrews in her account of Dease in the Dictionary of Irish Biography, was probably ‘Michael Keogh, a member of the Dublin Society of Surgeons and the RCSI’. His medical education took place in Paris and Dublin.
Dease was a surgeon at the United Hospitals of St Nicholas and St Catherine, in Francis Street, Dublin and, according to the RCSI heritage blog, the old united hospital in 1766 contained ‘forty beds and five elected surgeons’.
He married Eliza Dowdall, daughter of Sir Richard Dowdall from Portlumney, Co Meath, and the Deases had a son Richard, born in 1774, later to become President of the RCSI, like his father had years earlier.
In 1784, the Royal College disposed of its original charter of barbers and surgeons for a modern and more medically sound charter, and the cost was partially paid for by Dease.
He was an enthusiastic teacher and students found themselves captivated by his teaching. His inspirational ways encouraged many more young men to enrol at the college.
William Dease was a member of the United Irishmen and, in January 1798, word was secretly sent to him by George Stewart, the Surgeon-General to the Crown Forces, and a former president of the College of Surgeons: A message announcing that there was an arrest warrant out for the eminent Cavanman. He died shortly afterwards.
The great surgeon’s lifelike figure was sculpted by Thomas Farrell and presented to the Royal College of Surgeons by Dease’s grandson, Matthew O’Reilly Dease. The noble Countess of Aberdeen unveiled it to the world on the afternoon of April 27th, 1886.
The RCSI heritage blog notes the importance of Dease’s research in the field of surgery which are considered ‘works of enduring quality on midwifery and diseases of women and children, wounds of the head and medical jurisprudence’. He wrote his findings in the form of treatises that covered topics from a cure for hydrocele, treatment for head injuries and midwifery.
Amongst Dease’s written works, there are: Observations on wounds of the head (1776); Radical cure of hydrocele (1782); Different methods of treating the venereal diseases (1779); and Remarks on medical jurisprudence intended for the general information of juries and young surgeons (1793). Should you be curious enough to purchase a copy of his Observations on wounds of the head (1778 edition), there is a copy (on sale at the time of writing), valued at €950 by De Burca Rare Books and carries the description: ‘With a particular enquiry into the parts principally affected, in those who die in consequence of such injuries. The second edition with considerable additions. To which are added some general observations on the operation of bronchotomy … by William Dease, Surgeon to the United Hospitals of St Nicholas and St Catharine. Dublin: Printed by James Williams, 1778.’
In her biographical essay on Professor Dease, Helen Andrews wrote that he was at times a ‘subject of gossip,’ accused by others ‘of carrying a stone in his pocket ready to slip into the bladder in case of a mistaken diagnosis’. For more reading on Professor William Dease, it is worth consulting Andrews’ Dictionary of Irish Biography, and J.B. Lyons, in the Dublin Historical Record, volume 48, no. 1.
I’ve tried the high-toned specialists, who doctor folks to-day;
I’ve heard the throat man whisper low “Come on now let us spray”;
I’ve sat in fancy offices and waited long my turn,
And paid for fifteen minutes what it took a week to earn;
But while these scientific men are kindly, one and all,
I miss the good old doctor that my mother used to call.
The old-time family doctor! Oh, I am sorry that he’s gone,
He ushered us into the world and knew us every one;
He didn’t have to ask a lot of questions, for he knew
Our histories from birth and all the ailments we’d been through.
And though as children small we feared the medicines he’d send,
The old-time family doctor grew to be our dearest friend.
No hour too late, no night too rough for him to heed our call;
He knew exactly where to hang his coat up in the hall;
He knew exactly where to go, which room upstairs to find
The patient he’d been called to see, and saying: “Never mind,
I’ll run up there myself and see what’s causing all the fuss.”
It seems we grew to look and lean on him as one of us.
He had a big and kindly heart, a fine and tender way,
And more than once I’ve wished that I could call him in to-day.
The specialists are clever men and busy men, I know,
And haven’t time to doctor as they did long years ago;
But some day he may come again, the friend that we can call,
The good old family doctor who will love us one and all.
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