A charlatan is necessarily an impostor. He is "one who prates much in his
own favor, and makes unwarrantable pretensions to skill." He is "one who
imposes on others; a person who assumes a character for the sole purpose
of deception."
Originally the charlatan was one who circulated about the country, making
false pretensions to extraordinary ability and miraculous cures; but he is
now located in the larger cities, and is the most dangerous and
insinuating of all medical impostors. You will find his name in the
cheapest daily papers.
Name, did I say? No, never.
Of all the charlatans advertising in the papers of this city there is but
one who has not advertised under an assumed name. This is _prima facie_
evidence of imposition. Take up the daily paper,--the cheapest print is
the one that the rabble patronize, a curse to any city,--and run your eye
over the "_Medical Column_." Of the scores of this class advertising
therein none dare publish his real name. There is one impudent fellow,
who, while he assumes respectability, and under his true name, has an
up-town office, and obtains something bordering on an honorable practice,
runs the vilest sort of business, under an assumed name, on a public
thoroughfare down town.
These fellows usually advertise, "Advice Free." This is not on the modest
principle, that, having no brains, they are scrupulous in not charging for
what they cannot give, however; but this is to get the unsuspecting into
their dens, for they are shrewd enough to perceive that whatever is "free"
the rabble will run after.
[Illustration: CONVINCING EVIDENCE OF INSOLVENCY.]
When once the victim is within the web, flattering, intimidations, and
extravagant promises, one or all, generally will accomplish their aim. As
they never expect to see a special victim again, they squeeze the last
dollar from the unfortunate wretch, giving therefor nothing--worse than
nothing! I sent a pretended patient to one of these charlatans not long
since, and, with crocodile tears in his eyes, he related his case to the
_soi-disant_ doctor, who with great sympathy heard his case, and assured
him it was "heart-rending, and, though very dangerous, he could cure him;"
but the knave compelled the patient (!) to turn his pockets inside out to
assure him they contained but the proffered dollar. A small vial of
diluted spirits nitre was the prescription, for which the doctor assured
the patient he usually received twenty to forty dollars!
I have visited several of these places in disguise, including those of
female doctors, and those advertising as "midwives," every one of whom
agreed to perform a criminal operation upon the mythical lady for whom I
was pretending to intercede. Their prices ranged from five to two hundred
dollars.
The following painfully ludicrous scene I copy from manuscript notes which
I made some years ago, respecting a visit to one of these impostors. I
vouch for its truthfulness.
"I next bought a penny paper of a loud-mouthed urchin on the street
corner, and, reading it that evening, the words 'Medical Notice' attracted
my attention. It was all news to me, and I resolved to visit this 'very
celebrated' doctor on the following day, 'advice free.'
"Accordingly I repaired to his office, as designated in the advertisement.
There were several doors wonderfully near each other, about which were
several doctors' signs conspicuously displayed; and, since I had heard
that 'two of a trade seldom agree,' I thought it remarkable that three or
four of a profession should here be huddled together.
"'STEP IN THE ENTRY AND RING THE BELL,' I read on a sign, in big yellow
letters. I did so, when a big burly Irishman answered the summons.
"'An' who'll yeze like to see, sure?' he inquired, with a broad grin.
"'Dr. A.,' I replied, eying this Cerberus with awakening suspicion.
"'He's just in, sure. Come, follow me.'
"He led the way across a small room, and through a darkened hall, around
which I cast a suspicious glance, noticing, among other things unusual,
that the partitions did not reach the ceiling. Thence we entered another
room, which, from the roundabout way we had approached, I thought must be
opposite the outer door of Dr. B.'s or Dr. C.'s office.
"Here Pat left me, saying, 'The ixcillint doctor will be to see yeze
ferninst he gits through wid the gintleman who was before your honor.'
[Illustration: "AN' WHO'LL YEZE LIKE TO SEE, SURE?"]
"I took a look about the room. The partitions on two sides were temporary.
On one side of the apartment stood an old mahogany secretary. Through the
dingy glass doors I took a peep. The shelves contained several volumes of
'Patent Office Reports,' odd numbers of an old London magazine, and such
like useless works. On the walls were a few soiled cheap anatomical
plates, such as you will see in 'galleries' or 'museums' fitted up by
quack doctors, to intimidate the beholder. I could look no farther, as the
door opened, and a man entered, who, looking nervously around, at once
asked my business.
"'Are you Dr. A.?' I asked.
"'I am. Please be seated. You are sick--very sick,' he said hurriedly, and
in a manner intended to frighten me.
"Five minutes' conversation satisfied us both--him that I had no money,
and me that he had no skill. After vainly endeavoring to extort from me my
present address, he unceremoniously showed me out.
"As I closed the door I looked to the name and number, and, as I had
anticipated, found myself at Dr. B.'s entrance.
"Turning up my coat collar, and tying a large colored silk handkerchief
over the lower part of my face, I knocked at the third door, Dr C.'s.
"The same Irishman thrust out his uncombed head and unwashed face; the
same words in the same vernacular language followed.
"'I wish to see Dr. C.,' I replied, changing my voice slightly.
"'He's in, jist. It never rains but it pours. Himself it is that has a
bully crowd of patients the day; but coome in.'
"He did not recognize me--that was certain; so I followed, and was led
through a labyrinth of rooms and halls, as before, and ushered into a
small room, where the polite and loquacious Pat offered me a chair, and
giving the right earlock a pull and his left foot a slip back, he said,
with his broadest grin and most murderous English,--
"'I'll be shpaking the doctor to come to yeze at once intirely.'
"'But he has others with whom he is engaged, you said but a moment ago.'
"'Ah, yeze niver mind. Theyze ben't gintlemen like yerself, if yeze do
come disguised;' and with a '_whist_' he tip-toed across the room, applied
his ear to the keyhole of the door a moment, and returned in the same
manner.
"'It's all right; now I'll go for the doctor;' but still he lingered.
"'Well, why the d----l don't you go?' I said, impatiently.
"'Ah, gintlemen always come disguised to see Dr. A.--no--Dr. B., I mean.'
"''Tis Dr. C. I asked for,' I interrupted.
"'Yis, yis,' he replied, collecting his muddled senses. 'Yis, sure, you
did, an' gintlemen always swear--two signs yeze a gintleman. Could yeze
spare a quarter for a poor divil? By the howly mither, I git narry a cint,
bating what sich gintlemen as yeze gives me. I have a big family to ate at
home. There's Bridget' (counting his fingers by the way of a reminder),
'she's sick with the baby; then there's the twins,--two of thim, as I'm a
sinner,--and little lame Mike, what's got the rackabites, the doctor
says--'
"'Got the what?' I interrupted.
"'The rackabites, or some sich dumbed disease,' he replied, scratching his
head.
"'O, you mean rickets. But how old are the twins, and Mike, and the baby?'
"'Will, let me see. The baby is tin days, and not christened yit, for
we've not got the money for Father Prince, and there's Mike is siven, and
Mary is four, and Bridget junior is five.'
"'And the twins?' I asked, not a little amused.
"'Yis, them's Mary and Bridget junior,--four and five.'
"I interrupted him by a laugh, gave him the desired quarter, and told him
to hasten the doctor, which request he proceeded to execute.
"On the heels of retiring Pat the door opened, and the same doctor I had
before seen entered.
"'I want to consult Dr. C.,' I drawled out.
"'I am Dr. C.,' he replied, measuring me from head to foot sharply.
"Fearing he would penetrate my disguise, I hastened my errand. 'Having an
ulcerated and painful tooth I wish removed, or--'
"'This ain't a dentist's office; but if you have any peculiar disease, I
am the physician of all others to relieve you.'
"I being sure now of my man, that this same villain was running three
offices under as many different _aliases_, my next object was to get
safely out of his den.
"'I have no need of any such services as you intimate. 'Tis only the
tooth--'
"Here he interrupted me by an impatient gesture, intimating that only a
descendant of the monosyllable animal once chastised by one Balaam would
have entered his office to have a tooth drawn. Admitting the truth of his
assertion, and offering my humblest apology, I hurriedly withdrew from
this _triplet_ doctor.
"Safely away, I reflected as follows: Here, now, is this scoundrel, by the
assistance of an equally ignorant Irishman, conducting at least three
offices on a public thoroughfare, under as many assumed names.
"'Why, the fellow is a perfect chameleon!' I exclaimed, walking away. 'He
changes his name to suit the applicants to the various rooms. You want Dr.
A.,--he is that individual. You desire to see Dr. B.,--when, _presto!_ he
is at once the identical man. And so it goes, while his amiable assistant
seems to be making a nice little thing of it on his own account. Why all
these intricate passages? and why was I each time taken around through
them, and out through a different door from that which I entered? Did a
legitimate business require such mazy windings as I had just passed
through? Did Dr. A., B., or C., or whatever his name might be, rob his
patients in one place and thrust them out at another, that they might not
be able to testify where and by whom they had been victimized? Was not the
newspaper proprietor who advertised these several offices a _particeps
criminis_ in the transaction? And with these facts and suggestions I
leave the fellow, who by no means is a solitary example of this sort of
fraud.'"
On another street in this city is another branch from the Upas tree. I do
not wish to advertise for him, hence omit his _names_, which are legion.
Two of them begin with the letter D. The true name of this impostor
commences with an M. He is old enough to be better. I know of patients who
have been fleeced by him without receiving the least benefit, when the
knowledge necessary to prescribe for their recovery, or of so simple a
case, might be possessed by even the office boy.
You go to his first office and inquire for the first _alias_. The usher, a
boy sometimes, takes you in, and, slipping out the back door, he calls the
old doctor from the next office. They are not connected. Through a glass
door he takes a survey of you, to assure himself that you have not been
victimized by him already under his other _aliases_.
If he so recognizes you, he summons a convenient "assistant" to personate
the doctor, and thus you are robbed a second time.