FROM BARBER TO SURGEON

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rom the ancient but humble position of the barber is evolved the surgeon of modern times. Perhaps some members of the medical profession would like to ignore the connection, but it is too true to be omitted from the pages of history. The calling of a barber is of great antiquity. We find in the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel (v. 1) allusions to the Jewish custom of the barber shaving the head as a sign of mourning. In the remote past the art of surgery and the trade of barber were combined. It is clear that in all parts of the civilised world, in bygone times, the barber acted as a kind of surgeon, or, to state his position more precisely, he practised phlebotomy, the dressing of wounds, etc. Their shops were general in Greece about 420 B.C., and then, as now, were celebrated as places where the gossips met. Barbers settled in Rome from Sicily in B.C. 299.

The clergy up to about the twelfth century had the care of men's bodies as well as their souls, and practised surgery and medicine. Barbers gained much experience from the monks, whom they assisted in surgical operations. The practice of surgery involved the shedding of blood, and it was felt that this was incompatible with the functions of the clergy. After much consideration and discussion, in 1163, the Council of Tours, under Pope Alexander III., forbade the clergy to act as surgeons, but they were permitted to dispense medicine.

The Edict of Tours must have given satisfaction to the barbers, and they were not slow to avail themselves of the opportunities the change afforded them. In London, and it is to be feared in other places, the barbers advertised their blood-letting in a most objectionable manner. It was customary to put blood in their windows to attract the attention of the public. An ordinance was passed in 1307 directing the barbers in London to have the blood "privately carried into the Thames under the pain of paying two shillings to the use of the Sheriffs."

At an early period in London the barbers were banded together, and a gild was formed. In the first instance it seems that the chief object was the bringing together of the members at religious observances. They attended the funerals and obits of deceased members and their wives. Eventually it was transformed into a semi-social and religious gild, and subsequently became a trade gild. In 1308 Richard le Barber, the first master of the Barbers' Company, was sworn at the Guildhall, London. As time progressed the London Company of Barbers increased in importance. In the first year of the reign of Edward IV. (1462) the barbers were incorporated by a Royal Charter, and it was confirmed by succeeding monarchs.

A change of title occurred in 1540, and it was then named the Company of Barber-Surgeons. Holbein painted a picture of Henry VIII. and the Barber-Surgeons. The painting is still preserved, and may be seen at the Barber-Surgeons' Hall, Monkwell Street, London. Pepys pronounces this "not a pleasant though a good picture." It is the largest and last work of Holbein.

The date assigned for its commencement was 1541, and it was completed after the death of the artist in 1543. It is painted on vertical oak boards, 5 ft. 11 in. high, and 10 ft. 2 in. long. It has been slightly altered since it was delivered to the Barber-Surgeons. The figures represent notable men belonging to the company and leaders of the healing art of the period at which it was painted.

Henry VIII. receiving the Barber-Surgeons.

In the reign of Henry VIII., not a few disputes occurred between the barbers and the surgeons. The following enactment was in force: "No person using any shaving or barbery in London shall occupy any surgery, letting of blood, or other matter, except of drawing teeth." Laws were made, but they could not, or at all events were not, enforced. The barbers acted often as surgeons, and the surgeons increased their income by the use of the razor and shears. At this period, however, vigorous attempts were made to confine each to his legitimate work.

The Rev. J.L. Saywell has a note on bleeding in his "History and Annals of Northallerton" (1885). "Towards the early part of the nineteenth century," observes Mr Saywell, "a singular custom prevailed in the town and neighbourhood of Northallerton (Yorkshire). In the spring of the year nearly all the robust male adults, and occasionally females, repaired to a surgeon to be bled—a process which they considered essentially conduced to vigorous health." The charge for this operation was one shilling.

Parliament was petitioned, in 1542, praying that surgeons might be exempt from bearing arms and serving on juries, and thus be enabled without hindrance to attend to their professional duties. The request was granted, and to the present time medical men enjoy the privileges granted so long ago.

In 1745, the surgeons and the barbers were separated by Act of Parliament. The barber-surgeons lingered for a long time, the last in London, named Middleditch, of Great Suffolk Street, Southwark, only dying in 1821. Mr John Timbs, the popular writer, left on record that he had a vivid recollection of Middleditch's dentistry.

Over the last resting-places of some barber-surgeons are curious epitaphs. At Tewkesbury Abbey one in form of an acrostic is as follows:—

"Here lyeth the body of Thomas Merrett, of Tewkesbury, Barber-chirurgeon, who departed this life the 22nd day of October 1699.

Though only Stone Salutes the reader's eye,

Here (in deep silence) precious dust doth lye,

Obscurely Sleeping in Death's mighty store,

Mingled with common earth till time's no more.

Against Death's Stubborne laws, who dares repine,

Since So much Merrett did his life resigne.

Murmurs and Tears are useless in the grave,

Else hee whole Vollies at his Tomb might have.

Rest in Peace; who like a faithful steward,

Repair'd the Church, the Poore and needy cur'd;

Eternall mansions do attend the Just,

To clothe with Immortality their dust,

Tainted (whilst under ground) with wormes and rust."

Under the shadow of the ancient church of Bakewell, Derbyshire, is a stone containing a long inscription to the memory of John Dale, barber-surgeon, and his two wives, Elizabeth Foljambe and Sarah Bloodworth. It ends thus:—

"Know posterity, that on the 8th of April, in the year of grace 1757, the rambling remains of the above John Dale were, in the 86th yeare of his pilgrimage, laid upon his two wives.

This thing in life might raise some jealousy,

Here all three lie together lovingly,

But from embraces here no pleasure flows,

Alike are here all human joys and woes;

Here Sarah's chiding John no longer hears,

And old John's rambling Sarah no more fears;

A period's come to all their toylsome lives

The good man's quiet; still are both his wives."


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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