I have seen many a patient for whom I thought a right hearty laugh would do more good than all the medicine in the shops.
One William—known as “Bill”—Atkins, a gout doctor, used to strut about the streets of London, about 1650, with a huge gold-headed cane in his hand, and a “stunning” big three-tailed wig on his otherwise bare head. Gout doctoring was profitable in Charles II.’s time.
“Dr. Henry Reynolds, physician to George III., was the Beau Brummell of the faculty, and was the last of the big-wigged and silk-coated doctors. His dress was superb, consisting of a well-powdered wig, silk coat, velvet breeches, white silk stockings, gold-buckled shoes, gold-headed cane, and immaculate lace ruffles.”
Benjamin Franklin had often met and conversed with Reynolds.
Franklin’s Court Dress.
Nathaniel Hawthorne relates an anecdote of the origin of Franklin’s adoption of the customary civil dress, when going to court as a diplomatist. It was simply that his tailor had disappointed him of his court suit, and he wore his plain one, with great reluctance, because he had no other. Afterwards, gaining great success and praise by his mishap, he continued to wear it from policy. The great American philosopher was as big a humbug as the rest of us.
Dr. Jenner’s Dress.
“When I first saw him,” says a writer of his day, “he was dressed in blue coat, yellow buttons and waistcoat, buskins, well-polished boots, with handsome silver spurs. His wig, after the fashion, was done up in a club, and he wore a broad-brimmed hat.”
An Animated Queue.