Those who follow this blog and know something of the history of Dore will recognise the name Richard Furness (1791-1857), the polymath.
He was in charge of the school at Dore from 1821 to 1848. Amongst his talents he wrote and published poems and acted as a healer somewhat akin to an apothecary.
The Dore Village Society has in its archives some unpublished poems, collected by his son, which give some insight into Richard's skills.
The following poem is taken from the Dore Village Society Collection: uncatalogued book of manuscripts, 'The Unpublished Poems of Richd Furness', compiled by William Furness
Whilst this poem has no title DART members have named it Poor Tommy's Tale.
It is written in Derbyshire dialect and although it has questionable merit as a poem, it certainly has us thinking about the important knowledge and skills Richard may have had as a healer.
Poor Tommy's Tale
The story within the poem is translated into plain modern English with help from his son William Furness, who wrote a compiler's introduction, and one of our members who studied the words in dialect. The story goes thus; the poem commemorates one of the most wonderful cures Richard Furness ever performed. The subject of the cure, Tommy Greaves, was a native of Dore of about 20 years of age and a penknife cutler. One of his legs failed; a running,
possibly an infection, broke out in his leg; after failure of various persons to effect a cure, he was sent to Sheffield Infirmary as a last resort.
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| The Infirmary, 1819 Courtesy of Picture Sheffield, reference s07337 |
The Infirmary's Surgeons
The leg daily became worse, so much so that the leg was declared incurable and the unanimous opinion of the surgical staff was that unless he would consent to the leg being amputated, no treatment however skilful would save his life. Tommy decided to leave the Infirmary and place himself under the care of the Poet.
Hornbook's Cure
Richard Furness refers to himself in the third person as “Hornbook” in this context. Our research shows a hornbook to be a leaf of paper containing alphabet (and often the 10 digits and Lord's Prayer) protected by plate of translucent horn and mounted on wooden tablet with handle; for Richard Furness, the symbol of a teacher.
The story goes on; the result was a complete cure. Tommy’s gratitude was intense, and although he afterwards resided in Sheffield, he always made a point of calling to thank his benefactor twice a year for 25 or 30 years afterwards until Richard Furness's death.
The Poem
The poem gives some clues as to the nature of this cure;
Horn warm'd him with Pestil wi'bottle.
That made the poor cutler to roar
Gripe his fists, pull his face, screw his throttle
They might hear him from Totley to Dore.
The bathing with wonderful water
From virulent pus cleared the part
Produced the best cooling matter
And salv'd it ‘according to art
From this we deduce that Horn prepared for him a heated compound, using pestle and mortar (symbols of the apothecary) with water; it sounds like a very hot poultice. In addition wonderful water is more usually referred to as aqua mirabilis which can be a mixture of spices e.g. cardamon, cloves, mace, nutmeg, ginger, cubebs (a hot Javanese spice) and spirits of wine, left to soak and then distilled. This aqua mirabilis cooled and then cleansed the wound. The alcohol base helping fight infection and the wonderful aromas lifting the young man's spirit perhaps.
Horn carries on a defiant mood in the poem;
Tom's well, ye pretenders to science
With your Recipes, Whittles & Saws
Follow nature (Horn bids you defiance)
Follow nature & study her laws.
Boast no more of your classical knowledge
What avail all the drugs on your shelves
He cares not a grain for your College
If you have not the art in yourselves.
College presumably refers to the newly founded (1800) Royal College of Surgeons here and Richard Furness champions the knowledge and skills of the apothecary. There was rivalry between the Royal College of Physicians and the apothecaries which was well documented. The surgeons were descended from The Company of Barber Surgeons, presumably the reference to whittles or small knives and saws describes their tools. Modern General Practice is descended in part from the apothecaries' art and the last verse of the poem would ring true with our present day GPs.