BY JOHN FITZGERALD
(Part One)
Medicare is different today from what it was in the 19th century, but our local doctors have served us well in good times and bad, easing us along life’s journey, from our first glimpse of this world right up to our departure to a (hopefully) better one.
Here’s a brief look at some of the doctors whose advice and healing helped to make life bearable for the people in Callan and District over the past century and a half.
I wish to thank and acknowledge the late Margaret Phelan of Kilkenny Archaeological Society, who gave an enlightening talk on this subject and undertook extensive research into the doctors of the district. Thanks also to Jimmy Walsh of Mill Street, with his phenomenal memory of childhood days in Callan, to historian Philip Lynch, to the late community activist Sean Holden, who provided me with further details about historical GPs, and to the immortal Humphrey O’ Sullivan, whose diaries continue to be a rich source of information about Callan in the 19th century.
One of the first medics we find mentioned in the annals of the district is Dr. Thomas Butler. He lived on the site of the former Geoghegan’s Castle in West Street (scene of the battle during Cromwell’s infamous attack on Callan) with his wife, a Miss Heron of Castleview. He allowed the medical students he trained to take up residence at his home.
Three of his children who died young: Elizia, Thomas, and Theobald; are buried in the old St. Mary’s Churchyard. His daughter, Anne, is buried in the same Churchyard. She died in 1900 at age 75. A second daughter married a local merchant, Mr. Cooke.
Little is known about Dr. Butler’s life apart from references to him in Humphrey O’ Sullivan’s diary. In an entry for September 1827, the great Gaelic scholar described a less than edifying scene in Callaghan’s Hotel.
Two of Butler’s students decided to “get sloshed” in the hotel. Humphrey, who was having a drink when they arrived, joined Tom O’ Looney and John Forristal, for a bit of a session.
After downing a fair few pints of ale and glasses of whiskey, they started singing ballads and attracting a lot of attention.
Someone notified Dr. Butler of his students’ behaviour and he came charging into the hotel with a blackthorn stick. He gave Humphrey two black eyes and lashed out with tremendous energy at his trainees.
It wasn’t the kind of medicine they expected from their instructor. He appeared to have temporarily forgotten the Hippocratic Oath… not to do harm to his fellow human beings!
He beat the young fellows back to the house in West Street as Humphrey staggered from the hotel, nursing his wounds and cursing “Mad Butler”, as he called him.
Commenting on this incident, Margaret Phelan of KAS said, “We have sympathy with the doctor, who had the care and responsibility of the students on his shoulders.”
Though the doctor’s burial place is unknown, there’s a belief that his blackthorn stick may be in private ownership in Callan!
Like Dr. Butler, Dr Abraham Cronyn was appointed under the Board of Health Act (1818). A non-Catholic, he lived in a house on Flaggy Lane. From the day he commenced his service in Callan, he exhibited an uncanny knack for alienating both patients and other residents of the area.
He routinely subjected his patients to a “jolly good old tongue wagging” (his words) and a ferocious dressing down if they turned up at his practice on his day off or even a minute or two on the wrong side of his starting or finishing hours.
Passers-by on the streets of Callan had to doff their caps or hats to him, and ladies had to curtsy out of respect for their high-minded medic. He thrashed male patients on the streets, and indeed in his clinic, with his blackthorn stick for failing to remove their caps!
It was said that Callan people were “afraid to be sick” for fear of the reception that might greet them at Dr. Cronyn’s. A favourite retort of his to anyone who expressed a fear that he or she might be “on the way out” was “sure the divil a loss you’d be!”
Like his predecessor, Dr. Butler, Dr. Cronyn managed to draw the wrath of Humphrey O’ Sullivan. In 1828, the diarist became involved in a lawsuit against the doctor, though he omits to mention the nature of the litigation in his diary, apart from remarking that it was time-consuming and that Dr. Cronyn was, in his view, a most disagreeable fellow.
Dr. Cronyn’s burial place is unknown, though believed to be in Kells.
Having taken a dislike to doctors Butler and Cronyn, Humphrey O’ Sullivan was relieved to find a medic who was on his own wavelength and moved in the same circles.
Dr. Keating was born in Callan and graduated from Edinburgh University before setting up a practice in his native town in 1825. He took up the post of Dispensary Doctor in the 1850s.
At his home in Mill Lane, he entertained all the local pillars of society, foremost among them the Kerry schoolmaster who lavished praise on him in his diary. Two of Dr. Keating’s children, Marian and Michael, enrolled at Humphrey’s school in 1830.
Humphrey recalls with great eloquence his “fact finding” journey with the doctor to the Derrymore querns, to see the women and children grinding corn, work deemed unsuitable for men. They inspected all the gravestones in Kilbride cemetery, the oldest they found dating to 1725.
Humphrey describes in mouth-watering detail the luscious meals he and the doctor enjoyed on their visits to every corner of the land.
One diary entry refers to an excursion to Kells and Ballylinch Bridge. They explored “the lovely valley of the Nore” and passed mud cabins and half-starving wretches en route to Thomastown where they sat down to a five course meal “with punch” at Ryan the Tanner’s, after which they called to the parish priest, Fr. Cody, to admire a collection of oil paintings and water colours.
After a “hard day” of further feasting, drinking, and high-level intellectual discourse in the PP’s house, he showed them to “fine feather beds” to sleep in, as it was too late to return home.
But the doctor was no by means a snobbish or aloof figure; throwing up barriers between his patients and himself. He was as much a friend to his patients as the man who eased their suffering and kept them in good health.
Humphrey and the doctor whiled away many an evening in Callan watching hurling matches at Ceanafahey, or gazing in wonder at its abundance of wildlife. They loved listening to the quails.
And they enjoyed taking a stroll across McCormack’s land in Coolagh, renowned at the time for its magnificent setting in an idyllic stretch of countryside.
Another passion of Dr. Keating, which he shared with Humphrey and the local PP, was collecting sphagnum moss, which he used for horticultural purposes. They found no shortage of it at Mockler’s in Poulacapple, the diary reveals.
Dr. Keating’s daughter, Marian, married a Mason, who lived at Collaire, later to become the residence of the Walsh family.
To be continued…
