The origin of the word “quack” is not ascertained. Johnson derives it from the verb “to quack, or gabble like a goose.” Butler uses this verb as descriptive of the encomiums empirics heap upon their nostrums. Thus in Hudibras:

Believe mechanic Virtuosi
Can raise them mountains in Potosi,
Seek out for plants with signatures
To quack of universal cures.

The word charlatan is equally enveloped in obscurity. Furetiere and Calepin say that it is derived from the Italian word Ceretano, from CÆretum, a town near Spoleto, whence a band of impostors first sallied forth, marching under the banners of Hippocrates, and roving from town to town, selling drugs and giving medical advice.[24] MÉnage has it that charlatan springs from Circulatanus, from Circulator. Other etymologists trace it to the Italian Ciarlare, to chatter; hence Ciarlatan.

The Romans called their quacks AgyrtÆ, or Seplasiarii, from Seplasium, the generic name of aromatic substances. Seplasium was the place where they vended their drugs. Thus Martial:

Quodque ab AdumÆis vectum seplasia vendunt,
Et quidquid confert medicis lagÆa cataplus.

An empiric was also called Planus and Circulator “unde Plani unde levatores.”

Some of the stratagems resorted to by needy empirics to get into practice are very ingenious, and many a regular physician has been obliged to have recourse to similar artifices to procure employment. It is related of a Parisian physician, that, on his first arrival in the capital, he was in the habit of sending his servant in a carriage about daybreak to rap at the doors of the principal mansions to inquire for his master, as he was sent for to repair instantly to such and such a prince, who was dying. The drowsy porter naturally replied, with much ill-humour, “that he knew nothing of his master.”—“What! did he not pass the night in this house?” replied the footman, apparently astonished. “No,” gruffly answered the Swiss; “there’s nobody ill here.”—“Then I must have mistaken the house. Is not this the hotel of the Duke of ——?”—“No. Go to the devil!” exclaimed the porter, closing the ponderous gates. From this house his valet then proceeded from street to street, alarming the whole neighbourhood with his loud rap. Of course nothing else was spoken of in the porter’s lodge, the grocer’s shop, and the servants’ hall for nine days.

Another quack, upon his arrival in a town, announced himself by sending the bellman round, offering fifty guineas reward for a poodle belonging to Doctor ——, Physician to his Majesty and the Royal Family, Professor of Medicine, and Surgeon General, who had put up at such and such an inn. Of course the physician of a king, who could give fifty guineas for a lost dog, must be a man of pre-eminence in his profession.

Another indigent physician having complained of his ill-fortune to an ingenious friend, received the following advice: The CafÉ de la RÉgence is now in fashion: I play at chess every day at two o’clock, when a considerable crowd is assembled. Come there at the same hour; do not pretend to know me; call for a cup of coffee, and always pay the waiter his money in a rose-coloured paper: leave the rest to me. The doctor followed his advice; and his eccentric manners were soon observed,—when his friend informed the persons around him, that he was one of the ablest practitioners in the land; that he had known him for upwards of fifteen years, and that his cures were most marvellous,—his extreme modesty alone having prevented him from giving publicity to his abilities. He further added, I have long wished to become intimate with so great a man; but he is so absorbed in the study of his profession, that he scarcely ever enters into conversation with any one. In a short time, the Rose-colour Doctor was in extensive business.

Many years ago, the jaw-breaking words Tetrachymagogon and Fellino Guffino Cardimo Cardimac Frames, were chalked all over London, as two miracle-working doctors. Men with such names must have some superior qualification, and numbers flocked to consult them. Another quack put up as an advertisement, that he had just arrived in town, after having made the wonderful discovery of the green and red dragon and the female fern-seed. This was sure to attract notice. An advertisement was handed about of a learned physician, “who had studied thirty years by candle-light for the good of his countrymen.” He was, moreover, the seventh son of a seventh son, and was possessed of a wonderful cure for hernia, as both his father and his grandfather had been ruptured. This reminds one of the oculist in Mouse Alley, mentioned in the Spectator, who undertook to cure cataracts, in consequence of his having lost an eye in the Imperial service. Dr. Case made a fortune by having the lines, Within this place, lives Doctor Case, written in large characters upon his door.

The accidental circumstances which frequently bring medical men into extensive practice, or that notoriety which may lead to it, are truly curious. It is well known that a most eminent English physician owed all his success to his having been on a particular occasion in a state of intoxication. Disappointed on his first arrival in London, he sought comfort in a neighbouring tavern, where the servant of the house at which he lodged went to fetch him one evening, after a heavy potation, to see a certain countess. The high-sounding title of this unexpected patient tended not a little to increase the excitement under which he laboured. He followed a livery footman as steadily as he could, and was ushered in silence into a noble mansion, where her ladyship’s woman anxiously waited to conduct him most discreetly to her mistress’s room; her agitation most probably preventing her from perceiving the doctor’s state. He was introduced into a splendid bedchamber, and staggered towards the bed in which the lady lay. He went through the routine practice of pulse-feeling, &c., and proceeded to the table to write a prescription, which, in all probability, would have been mechanically correct. But here his powers failed him. In vain he strove to trace the salutary characters, until, wearied in his attempts, he cast down the pen, and, exclaiming “Drunk, by G—!” he made his best way out of the house. Two days afterwards he was not a little surprised by receiving a letter from the lady, enclosing a check for 100l., and promising him the patronage of her family and friends, if he would observe the strictest secrecy on the state he found her in. The fact simply was, that the countess had been indulging in brandy and laudanum, which her abigail had procured for her, and was herself in the very condition which the doctor had frankly applied to himself.

Chance, more than science or ability, has frequently brought professional men to the summit of their business. There is an Eastern story of a certain prince who had received from a fairy the faculty of not only assuming whatever appearance he thought proper, but of discerning the wandering spirits of the departed. He had long laboured under a painful chronic disease, that none of the court physicians, ordinary or extraordinary, could relieve; and he resolved to wander about the streets of his capital until he could find some one, regular or irregular, who could alleviate his sufferings. For this purpose he donned the garb and appearance of a dervish. As he was passing through one of the principal streets, he was surprised to see it so thronged with ghosts, that, had they been still inhabitants of their former earthly tenements, they must have obstructed the thoroughfare. But what was his amazement and dismay when he saw that they were all grouped with anxious looks round the door of his royal father’s physician, haunting, no doubt, the man to whom they attributed their untimely doom. Shocked with the sight, he hurried to another part of the city, where resided another physician of the court, holding the second rank in fashionable estimation. Alas! his gateway was also surrounded with reproachful departed patients. Thunderstruck at such a discovery, and returning thanks to the prophet that he was still in being, despite the practice of these great men, he resolved to submit all the other renowned practitioners to a similar visit, and he was grieved to find that the scale of ghosts kept pace with the scale of their medical rank. Heartbroken, and despairing of a cure, he was slowly sauntering back to the palace, when, in an obscure street, and on the door of an humble dwelling, he read a doctor’s name. One single poor solitary ghost, leaning his despondent cheek upon his fleshless hand, was seated on the doctor’s steps. “Alas!” exclaimed the prince, “it is, then, too true that humble merit withers in the shade, while ostentatious ignorance inhabits golden mansions. This poor neglected doctor, who has but one unlucky case to lament, is then the only man in whom I can place confidence.” He rapped; the door was opened by the doctor himself, a venerable old man, not rich enough, perhaps, to keep a domestic to answer his infrequent calls. His white locks and flowing beard added to the confidence which his situation had inspired. The elated youth then related at full length all his complicated ailments, and the still more complicated treatment to which he had in vain been submitted. The sapient physician was not illiberal enough to say that the prince’s attendants had all been in error, since all mankind may err; but his sarcastic smile, the curl of his lips, and the dubious shake of his hoary head, most eloquently told the anxious patient that he considered his former physicians as an ignorant, murderous set of upstarts, only fit to depopulate a community. With a triumphant look he promised a cure, and gave his overjoyed client a much-valued prescription, which he carefully confided to his bosom; after which he expressed his gratitude by pouring upon the doctor’s table a purse of golden sequins, which made the old man’s blinking eyes shine as brightly as the coin he beheld in wondrous delight. His joy gave suppleness to his rigid spine, and, after bowing the prince out in the most obsequious manner, he ventured to ask him one humble question: “By what good luck, by what kind planet, had he been recommended to seek his advice?” The prince naturally asked for the reason of so strange a question: to which the worthy doctor replied, with eyes brimful with tears of gratitude, “Oh, sir, because I considered myself the most unfortunate man in Bagdad until this happy moment; for I have been settled in this noble and wealthy city for these last fifteen years, and have only been able to obtain one single patient.”—“Ah!” cried the prince in despair, “then it must be that poor, solitary, unhappy-looking ghost that is now sitting on your steps!”

It has been observed that religious sects have materially contributed to the elevation of physicians in society, and political associations have been equally beneficial. The celebrated Mead was the son of a non-conforming minister, who, knowing the influence he possessed over his numerous congregation, brought him up as a physician, in the full confidence of obtaining the splendid result that rewarded the speculation. His example was followed by several dissenting preachers; among whom we may name Oldfield, Clarke, Nesbitt, Lobb, Munckly, whose sons all rose to extensive and most lucrative practice. At that period, St. Thomas’s and Guy’s Hospitals were under the government of Dissenters and Whigs; and so soon as any one became a physician to the establishment, his fortune was made. The same advantages attended St. Bartholomew’s and Bethlem, both of royal foundation.

Dr. Meyer Schomberg, who was a poor Jew of Cologne, came to London without any profession, when, not knowing what to do to obtain a living, to use his own words, he said, “I am a physician;” and, having thus conferred a degree upon himself, he sedulously cultivated the acquaintance of all his fellow Jews about Duke’s-place, got introduced to some of their leading and wealthy mercantile brethren, and a few years after Dr. Schomberg was in the annual receipt of four thousand pounds. It is rather strange, but the Jew was succeeded in his lucrative practice by a Quaker. This was the celebrated Dr. Fothergill. Brought up an apothecary, he took out a Scotch degree, and, attaching himself to Schomberg, calculated on following his example; and, on his patron’s decease, he slipped into the practice of both Jew and Gentile.

Amongst many singular instances of good fortune may be mentioned a surgeon of the name of Broughton, to whom our East India Company may consider themselves as most indebted, since he was the person who first pointed out the advantages that might result from trading in Bengal. Broughton happened to travel from Surat to Agra in the year 1636, when he had the luck to cure one of the daughters of the Emperor Shah-Jehan. To reward him, this prince allowed him a free trade throughout his dominions. Broughton immediately repaired to Bengal to purchase goods, which he sent round by sea to Surat. Scarcely had he returned, when he was requested to attend the favourite of a powerful nabob, and he fortunately restored her to health, when, in addition to a pension, his commercial privileges were still more widely extended; the prince promising him at the same time a favourable reception for British traders. Broughton lost no time in communicating this intelligence to the Governor of Surat; and it was by his advice that the company sent out two large ships to Bengal in 1640.

There are some amusing anecdotes related regarding a vocation for the medical profession. Andrew Rudiger, a physician of Leipsic, when at college, made an anagram of his name, and, in the words Andreas Rudiger he found “Arare Rus Dei Dignus,” or “worthy to cultivate the field of God.” He immediately fancied that his vocation was the church, and commenced his theological studies. Showing but little disposition for the clerical calling, the learned Thomasius recommended him to return to his original pursuits. Rudiger confessed that he had more inclination for the profession of medicine than the church; but that he had considered the anagram of his name as a divine injunction. “There you are in error,” replied Thomasius; “that very anagram calls you to the art of healing; for Rus Dei clearly meaneth the churchyard.”

The subject of quackery, in every sphere of life, whether it be resorted to by diplomatists or physicians, sanctimonious adventurers or fashionable rouÉs, leads to serious consideration. How comes it that man seems more anxious to be deceived than enlightened? Simply from the errors of his education, which foster a love for the marvellous, and induce him to admire that which really is not or cannot be comprehended. The superiority of the intellectual faculties of the ancients, at an earlier age than the generality of men in the present times, is solely to be attributed to their having been brought up with philosophical views. Mallebranche has justly said, “that to become a philosopher, we must see clearly; but to be endued with faith, we must believe blindly.” Although we cannot admit this axiom in matters of revealed religion, yet in many worldly concerns it does hold. If a youth was not educated with the scholastic jargon, commonly called learning, he would be considered ignorant. Helvetius has said, that man is born ignorant, but not a fool; and that it is even no easy matter to make him one; and the same writer has very justly divided stupidity into that which is natural, arising from ignorance, and that which is acquired and the result of instruction. It is thus that, by speaking to the passions, naturally weak, and to our desires and apprehensions, ever ready to grasp at a favourite phantom,—the artful manage to exercise a more powerful control, and incline persons to believe what their senses actually discredit. The traffic of hope and fear has ever been a lucrative trade; and while fear became the staple commodity of priestcraft, hope was the fortune of medical quacks. The multiplication of sins increased the profits of the one; the various diseases, real and imaginary, to which flesh is heir, became the source of emolument to the other. It is under these cherished impressions of ameliorating our condition, that many men of common sense, and even of judgment, are induced to rely on the most absurd and fallacious promises; so prone are we to believe all that we wish;—the fidelity of a woman, the truth of a sycophant, and the candour of a flatterer. If there could be established a regular college of quackery, where the errors of mankind might be studied, and pupils taught to avail themselves of their follies, as a future vocation, a more perfect knowledge of the world would be acquired than in all the universities in Europe. Our sovereigns would be wise in selecting their ministers amongst the graduates of this academy. Cardinal Du Perron, who, in a long homily, convinced his sovereign, Henry III., of the existence of a God, and afterwards informed him that he would prove the contrary, if it could afford his Majesty any consolation, might have been selected as a proper rector for such an institution.

It is also to be observed that the founders of all doctrines, however hypothetical and absurd, have generally assumed a dogmatic language, which gives to their fallacious assertions an appearance of truth, and Bacon has long ago said, “Method, carrying a show of total and perfect knowledge, has a tendency to general acquiescence.”

Quackery is considered by many practitioners as necessary to forward the views of medical men. It is related of Charles Patin, that being on a visit to a physician at Basle, where his son was studying medicine, he questioned the youth on the principal studies required to form a physician; to which the future candidate for medical popularity replied, “Anatomy, physiology, pathology, and therapeutics.” “You have omitted the chief pursuit,” replied his catechiser, “quackery.”

When we cast our eyes on the absurd names which many Italian academies adopted to characterize the nature of their studies, we find an ample illustration of this science in the Seraphici, the Oscuri, the Immaturi, the Infecundi, the Offuscati, the Somnolenti, and Phantastici!

The most ridiculous and disgusting epithets have been considered honourable distinctions. Thus, when the science of Uroscopia and Uromancy prevailed, we find a Dr. Theodorus Charles, a Wirtemberg physician, calling another learned practitioner, “Urinosa Claritas.”