The Quack Doctor

Reynolds's Weekly Newspaper, 2 August 1857

A deaf person seeking treatment in 1850s London appears to have had plenty of options, judging by these advertisements in Reynolds’s Weekly Newspaper. The only problem was, the advertisers all belonged to the same gang – and if you knew what was in their medicine, you would not let it anywhere near your ears.

Multiple ads under different names were a mid-19th-century scam that I’ve written about before. A patient might well try more than one practitioner in their search for a cure – so if one person posed as all those doctors, he could take the same victim’s money time and again.

Patients consulting by post from outside London were a good source of income, but those visiting in person posed more of a risk. The quacks had to keep up with who they’d seen under which alias, otherwise things could go badly wrong…

In 1857, Miss Mary Scattergood visited ‘Surgeon Coulston’ in response to an advert that promised a cure in ten minutes. She soon discovered that this came at the extortionate price of ten guineas, which she could not afford, but she agreed to pay five on the proviso that a hearing apparatus was part of the deal. She expected to undergo some procedure that would have an immediate effect, but Coulston sent her away with a bottle of mixture instead. By the next morning, he told her, she would certainly be cured – though he continued with less certainty by saying ‘Use it again the following night in case you are not.’

The mixture gave Miss Scattergood sore ears and a headache – added to which, she had never got the apparatus she paid for, so she returned to Coulston’s premises. He wasn’t there, and his assistant (who considerably resembled him) said he had gone away for a few days.

Miss Scattergood called again several times but the assistant eventually told her Coulston had gone to Madeira, so she had to wave goodbye to her five guineas and put this one down to experience. It wasn’t until about two years later, when she accompanied a friend to an ear-doctor called Dr Matton (or Dr Watters according to some reports), that she discovered it was the same bloke – and this time she wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

Coulston/Matton/Watters’ real name was John Gibson Bennett, and he and his younger brother William were former card-sharpers now running a multiple-ad scheme along with a few other dodgy characters. William recognised Miss Scattergood and made a rapid exit, but she had seen enough. She had the older Bennett summoned to Westminster County Court, and other witnesses came forward to testify that he had conned them too – one man told how Bennett had called him a ‘grey-headed old rascal’ and threatened to throw him down the stairs.

J G Bennett, who ‘wore a moustache, and appeared to be about 40 years old’ denied everything, claiming never to have seen Miss Scattergood in his life. William, who also wore a moustache and was about ten years younger, tried to pin the blame on the non-existent Surgeon Coulston, but the judge ruled in favour of Miss Scattergood – she got back her five guineas and J G Bennett was indicted for perjury.

He didn’t turn up to his hearing at Bow Street Police Court, but some interesting evidence came out. The prosecutor, Mr Bowen May, acted on behalf of a newly formed anti-quackery society called the London Medical Registration Association, which had helped Miss Scattergood bring Bennett to trial. This Association had performed an analysis on Bennett’s mixture and found it to comprise urine and alum. A former porter to the gang told of a ‘place where urine was kept’ and that he had helped to make up the bottles (he was only doing his job, guv).

Then Claude Edwards, the Bennetts’ factotum, described how John and William Bennett both posed as Dr Watters even though there was a real Dr Watters involved too. In one incident, the younger Bennett left Edwards to treat a patient while he went to the pub, only returning to collect the money and saying ‘I think I must let Mr King off for twelve guineas, but if I can drop it into him for more I will.’ Mr King ended up paying more than 30 pounds for what he was told was a traditional remedy discovered by ‘Dr Watters’ in China or Japan.

The Morning Post 1 August 1857. John Nicol Watters was a real person who allowed the Bennetts to use his name. More about Dr Watters another time.

The magistrate issued a warrant for the arrest of both Bennett brothers, but by then their whereabouts ‘appeared somewhat uncertain.’

Although the Bennetts had legged it, the law later managed to catch up with other members of the gang. That’s a story for another post, but during one hearing, Edwards confirmed that the brothers’ liquid medicines were mainly urine and that their powders were nothing but sawdust.

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(Note: The court hearings were reported in numerous newspapers and the quotations above are repeated in several sources, but some examples are The Morning Chronicle 10 February 1859 and The Era 6 March 1859)

Source: The Liverpool Mercury, 30 December 1851

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Phlegm is generally white, greyish, or of a yellow colour, with streaks of black; its consistency varies from the limpidity of water to the thickness of jelly.

This vivid description is from Parisian chemist Paul Gage’s Treatise on the Effect and Disorders produced by Phlegm in the Human Frame – the pamphlet referred to in the advert above. The 16-page essay is elegantly written and, rather than trumpeting the medicine’s properties in the exaggerated fashion typical of quacks, Gage uses more sophisticated tactics to persuade the reader of its efficacy.

Phlegm, Gage believed, was implicated in virtually all diseases – the sheer amount of the stuff was evidence for this. He estimated that if all the phlegm in the human body were collected together, the quantity would ‘surpass the weight of all other evacuations.’ Medical men might argue over this, but they were too inclined to follow fashions in diagnosis and put their own opinions above the welfare of their patients. Gage uses the common quack ploy of discrediting the medical profession, politely accusing them of disagreeing amongst themselves, observing only what they wished to observe and ignoring ancient systems of medicine.

At the time of the Treatise’s publication in English (1851), disorders of the blood were the ‘in thing’ and according to Gage, doctors did not look much beyond blood-letting as a treatment. Drawing of bad blood, however, was useless as it would simply be replaced by more bad blood if the cause – that is, the phlegm – were not removed.

‘For heaven’s sake,’ appealed Gage, ‘overcome the principle before attempting to overcome the symptom.’

At the other end of the spectrum was the ‘enlightened medical man who has at heart the love of his suffering fellow creatures’ – i.e. Monsieur Gage himself. He pre-empts criticism by pointing out the medical establishment’s tendency to write off any new method as quackery in order to protect their own interests.

It was easy to tell if you were suffering from phlegm: the ‘abundant expectoration of clear and slimy mucus’ was a bit of a giveaway. Other symptoms, however, included dry skin, belching, pale lips, hoarseness and poor digestion. Women and children were the greatest sufferers but phlegm affected everybody – particularly those of weak constitution, sorrowful and melancholy temperament and a sedentary lifestyle.

The Antiphlegmatic Elixir was a laxative, which seems odd for a condition now associated with the respiratory tract, but to Gage phlegm was just as much of a problem in the digestive system. In children, for example, it could generate and nourish intestinal worms. When treated with the Elixir (in conjunction with a decoction of male fern – a standard vermifuge!), the creatures would come out surrounded by masses of the stuff.

As well as worms and the more likely coughs, colds and asthma, the Elixir would cure apoplexy, scrofula, gout, dropsy, palpitations, skin conditions and ‘diseases of women.’

The Treatise contains a list of successful cases, but in a departure from the common quack practice of printing testimonials in the patients’ own words, Gage sets his out in the third person, like the case histories in reputable medical books.

One featured patient was a 28-year-old lady with five children, who had numerous crevices in her right breast and a white swelling on her right elbow. Until the age of 25 she had thrown up large quantities of viscous matter every morning, and when her mother mentioned this to the attending physician, he prescribed the Antiphlegmatic Elixir. After five months the lady was cured.

By writing of a reputable doctor prescribing the Elixir, and giving a lengthy recovery period rather than a miraculous instant cure, Gage subtly dissociated himself from quackery and presented his ideas as equal in status with (but more enlightened than) medical orthodoxy. He appealed to the educated reader with a sense of responsibility for their own health, and in doing so trousered a similarly upmarket 4s. 6d. per bottle.

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WANTED!
An industrious and strictly honest man in each
County in the State to take orders by samples for
Velpeau’s Magnetic Agents.
Salary first year $800, and small commission,
payable monthly. For full particulars address
Dr. M. Velpeau, 422½ Broadway, N. Y., sending stamp.

Source: The Sauk County Standard, (Baraboo, Wisconsin) 18 July 1855

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This advert might not leap out from the thousands of similar mid-19th-century US ads seeking salesmen for books, farming equipment, store goods etc., but the product behind it is quite unusual.

If the industrious and strictly honest man wrote for particulars, the reply wouldn’t tell him much about the job. Instead, it would ask him to send $2 for a sample of the product. Only on the arrival of the sample would he discover that he was expected to sell Dr Velpeau’s Magnetic Love Powders. At this point, most industrious and strictly honest men probably put the episode down to experience and went to look for a more reputable and less embarrassing business opportunity.

The particulars sent with the sample claimed:

These powders, properly administered, are warranted irrespective of age, circumstances or personal appearance, to win them the love or unchanging affections of any one they may desire of the opposite sex.

The enamoured person had to work out a way of getting the object of their affections to eat the powder, and then wait in anxious lovelorn anticipation until absolutely nothing happened. As one newspaper joked:

Only think of it! For two dollars, any enterprising young man – no matter if he is as poor as an editor, and as ugly as a baboon, can through the instrumentality of these powders, make himself “lord” of the most charming lass of “sweet sixteen” to be found within the limits of our friend’s agency, which comprises four counties!

Velpeau’s real name was J C Merrill – perhaps the pseudonym was an attempt to associate the powders with famous French surgeon Alfred Velpeau – and according to the New York Times, his scheme attracted up to 40 letters per day.

In late 1855, angry (and still single) customers began writing to the Mayor of New York to complain about ‘Velpeau’. Merrill was arrested for fraud but released when he promised to discontinue business and return the complainants’ money. Six weeks later, however, he was still selling the powders and pocketing the cash, so he was arrested again, charged with defrauding a variety of people, and locked up.

As for the spurned lovers, they presumably had to find another way of attaining their goal – the obvious solution being to become richer and better looking.

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Source: Western Journal of Medicine and Surgery (Louisville, KY), July 1855 Click here for Transcript

There are no prizes for guessing what was in this. First formulated in the mid 1830s by Dr John B McMunn (or M’Munn), it became a big hit in the US once a drug company called A B Sands bought the recipe in 1841. The dosage instructions gave plenty of room for manoeuvre:

To a child a month old, or younger, give from half a drop to two drops; to a child 6 months old, from 3 to 10 drops; and to adults from 10 to 60 drops (or even double or treble that much, if the pain and other symptoms be severe and urgent) mixed in two or three teaspoonsful of water, according to the size of the dose. As the administration of every medicine should be governed by its effects, it is proper to begin with the smallest dose, and increase or repeat it at proper intervals until the desired effects are produced.

Although a ‘secret remedy,’ the Elixir was popular with physicians and was advertised a lot in medical journals. One of its selling points was that it was supposedly ‘denarcotised’, and thought to be safer than laudanum. Not all doctors, however, supported it. In 1850, the Western Lancet (Cincinnati) ran an article suggesting that it was inappropriate for the New York Medical Gazette to promote this dubious nostrum. ‘All this,’ they insisted later, ‘was conceived in the kindest feeling to the editor, and with no other motive than to correct what we conceive to be a serious evil to the profession.’

The editor, Dr D Meredith Reese, didn’t take the ‘kindest feeling’ too well. He called the Western Lancet‘s article an ‘unprofessional attack’ and asserted that the Elixir was not a secret remedy – if the Lancet‘s editors didn’t know what was in it, that was down to their ignorance. The Lancet commented:

Now it is exceedingly amusing to hear the declaration made by Dr. Reese, that this article is not a secret remedy, and yet he is unable to give its composition! This is funny indeed…

…Perhaps his system of ethics, like his favorite elixir, is also a secret.

In 1864 the original recipe came to light, showing the process of treating opium with sulphuric ether to remove the narcotine and make the product safe – a nice idea but narcotine doesn’t have narcotic properties anyway, and the medicine certainly was not safe. It was as addictive as any other opium product –  in the early 20th century, for example, George Pettey M.D. related the case of a woman who had taken the Elixir for 31 years, losing 16 newborn babies to the congenital effects.

Another danger – not entirely the Elixir’s fault – was the possibility of mistakes on the prescription. An 1860s physician prescribed the product for a little girl, but instead of elx. of opium, he put exl., and doctors’ handwriting being what it is, the apothecary interpreted it as ext. (extract) of opium – a much stronger preparation that resulted in the child sleeping ‘the sleep which knows no waking.’

A particularly tragic case occurred in Monroe, NY, in 1875. A 17-month-old boy showed symptoms of worms, and ‘By the advice of an old Florida woman, who said it would cause the worms which were supposed to be in the child’s stomach, to have a good sleep‘, the mother gave him 15-20 drops of elixir every hour, sending worms and baby to sleep forever. When his breathing became rapid and rattly, she carried him to the nearest neighbour, a third of a mile away, but it was too late.

The child never moved a muscle from half past 3 till it died, which was about 11 at night, living some 12 hours after the last dose. It is a sad thing to see the child cut down in health as it were, and at an age when all the cares of the parents and affections of its brother and sister were at its very height of enjoyment. The little fellow was at play in the morning as ever and at 11 at night was a corpse.

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Many thanks to R L Ripples of TweetsofOld for the story from the Monroe Gazette and Courier.

Source: The Medical Directory for Scotland, 1853 (click to enlarge ad or see transcript below.)

This product was reviewed by The London Lancet, (vol.1 1851) which heartily endorsed it as a way of creating rapid and healthy circulation of the blood on the surface after bathing. “Rubber” here means something to be used for rubbing, rather than india-rubber. I’m not sure why it was electric – perhaps the rubbing action built up static, allowing you to experiment with sticking yourself to the ceiling, or maybe the proprietor was just trying to jump on the bandwagon for up-to-the-minute electric products.

The Rubber was composed of tightly twisted alternate bands of wool and flax, and… oh, I can’t think of any way of making it sound exciting. It was a towel. That’s all.  Sorry.

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HEALTHY SKIN
———————-
The Valuable properties of the
ELECTRIC RUBBER FOR THE SKIN
Are still but little known. It has received the valuable testimony of many of the first Members of the Medical Profession, and also private Gentlemen. The utility of a daily application, particularly after the cold bath, or sponging, both in restoring the heat of the blood and skin, without in any way injuring the skin, will be self-evident upon the making one trial of the Electric Rubber, manufactured solely for
LUDLAM’S
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159 & 160 OXFORD STREET

Pure   and   Healthy   Leeches.—Potter
and HAILEY beg to assure the Profession, Druggists, &c., that the
Leeches they offer are such as can be recommended for Purity, Health, and
Readiness of Biting.
POTTER AND HAILEY, Importers of Leeches and Turkey Sponge,
Herbalists, &c., 66, Farringdon-market, London.

Source: The Medical Times and Gazette, 3 July 1852

Thank goodness they are keen to bite – there’s no one worse to work with than an unmotivated leech.

Henry Potter’s leech, herbs and seeds business started up in 1812 in Farringdon Street, where the proprietor kept leeches in ponds in his garden. By the time of this advert it had been taken over by his nephew, also called Henry Potter, who went into partnership with his uncle’s former apprentice, George Hailey, and imported leeches from Hungary. The company is still going today as the apostrophe-shunning Potters Herbal Medicines.

The “Turkey sponge”  referred to in the ad sounds like some kind of frozen food product spawned from the mating of Bernard Matthews and your worst nightmares, but it was actually just a sponge. Harvested from the Smyrna region of the Mediterranean, it was the highest quality sponge available and was in demand by surgeons for mopping up the various substances emanating from the human body.

For more fun with leeches, view this amusing clip from Bernard L Kowalski’s 1959 low-budget horror flick, Attack of the Giant Leeches:

Attack of the Giant Leeches

Source: The Era (London)  Sunday 23 October 1853

Bailey was a respectable supplier of  ”every description of Anatomical, Dissecting, Amputating and Post-Mortem instruments” as well as trusses, support stockings, ear trumpets, railway conveniences (male and female), water beds and chest expanders. His adverts appeared in distinguished publications such as the Lancet as well as in the popular press.

Mr Bailey also made artificial arms, which could be useful for the Venus de Milo here if she should suddenly notice the fact that curvature of the spine is the least of her worries.

Invisible crutches were intended to the keep the shoulders up – the top part fitted under the arms and there was a steel attachment that fixed into the stays. The pictures below show the difference made to the posture by such contraptions i.e. not enough to be worth the effort.

Source: Health and beauty : or, woman and her clothing considered in relation to the physiological laws of the human body, Caplin 1864

Image: Daguerreotype of the Duke of Wellington in 1844

Cashing in on the Duke of Wellington’s death in order to sell fart pills quite frankly seems a bit distasteful to me:

         VERBUM SAT.—Our Immortal Wellington
           clearly died from an attack of Indigestion. All who
suffer from Dyspepsia, Indigestion, Cardialgia, Eructations, Fla-
tulency, Torpidity of the Bowels and Liver,  should  take  BELL’S
ANTI-PRANDIUM,   or   DIGESTIVE  PILLS,  prepared  with   the
purest drugs, and the test of many years’ extensive use in  private
practice. They may be depended upon as a safe, effectual, and price-
less remedy.—Sold only by Gifford and Linder, chemists, &c., 104,
Strand; and Messrs. Blake, 47, Piccadilly. Price 2s. 9d. per box. By
post for a 2d. stamp.

Source: The Daily News (London) Saturday 11 December 1852

As someone with a “countenance of moderate pretensions,” I can see the allure of some of these products …         

                             TRICOSIAN POWDER.
   For rendering Red or Grey Hair and Whiskers a beautiful
                                   Black or Brown.
THIS POWDER, which is a very curious dis-
covery in Chemistry, will be found, upon trial, much
superior to every preparation now offered for these purposes;
it is perfectly innoxious both to the Hair and Skin; indeed it
is of service to the Hair, for it promotes its growth, and in-
vigorates its texture. It is so perfectly safe for the Skin or
Clothes on which it happens to fall, and so infallible in its
operation that the dark tint, which is produced in a few
hours, cannot be obliterated by any process whatever. Price
3s. per box.
            SIDKI; OR, THE TURKISH COSMETIC FLUID.
This Lotion communicates to the Skin a delicate fineness
of texture, and juvenile freshness, and renders a countenance
of moderate pretensions irresistably attractive, protecting it
from the inclemency of the atmosphere and the ravages of
time. Price 2s per bottle, or twelve in a case for £1.
                           HUILE DE CACHMERE,
for preserving and improving the Hair, promoting its growth,
preserving it from falling off or turning grey, and restoring
it in those parts which have become nearly bald.
Price 2s. per Bottle, signed by the Proprietor, J. SINNETT.
   HUBERT’S ROSEATE POWDER FOR REMOVING
                          SUPERFLUOUS HAIRS.
This excellent Depilatory is perfectly safe in the application
and certain in its effect. Price 3s. and 5s.
               THE VENETIAN BLOOM OF YOUTH AND
                                       BEAUTY.;
Or Imperial Vegetable Powder for the Skin,
(A peculiarly elegant preparation of the beautiful Azalœa).
Communicates to the Skin the most brilliant and natural
fairness, and possesses this pre-eminent excellence, that it
cannot be discovered by the most scrutinising observer.
Price 2. per package, Six in one 10s., or Fourteen for £1 1s.
Sold Wholesale and Retail at Dr. SMITH’S, 74, Marlbo-
rough-street, and Shaw’s, 8, Bachelor’s-walk.

Source:  Freeman’s Journal and Daily Commercial Advertiser (Dublin) Tuesday 22 April 1851

        Image: Whiskerandos, by John Leech, 1854.
Courtesy of the John Leech Sketch Archives from Punch

            LUXURIANT HAIR, WHISKERS, EYEBROWS, &c.
     THE   TESTIMONIALS   daily   received   by   Miss   DEAN
establish  the  fact   that   CRINILENE  is  the  only  preparation  that
can be perfectly relied upon in  producing  those  acknowledged  orna-
ments of manhood  in  three  or  four  weeks,  with certainty.  It  is emi-
nently successful in nourishing,  curling  and  beautifying  the Hair, and
checking and preventing greyness in all its stages, strengthening weak
hair,   preventing   it   falling   off,   &c.  For  the  reproduction  of  hair in
baldness, from whatever cause, and  at  whatever  age,  it  stands  unri-
valled. One trial only is  solicited  to  prove  the  fact.  It  is  an elegantly
scented  preparation,  and  sufficient  for  three months’ use will be sent
post  free,  on  receipt of Twenty-four Postage stamps, by MISS DEAN,
48 Liverpool-street, King’s-cross, London.

Source: The News of the World, Sunday 23 March 1851