Hahnemann: The Father of Hahnemann, Part 9

Samuel and Mèlanie Hahnemann arrived in Paris on June 21, 1835, after a two-week journey from Köthen, Germany. By mid-July, they were living in a spacious house that backed onto the Luxembourg Gardens. Hahnemann wrote to a friend, “We are living here in the purest air as if we were in the country; we are like a couple of doves and our love for one another daily increases.”

The political climate in France under Louis Philippe I was more stable than it had been in some time, and the king would not be exiled until five years after Hahnemann’s death. Therefore, the couple did not have to worry about war, even if social and financial inequality continued to cause unrest.

Mèlanie took Samuel to the opera and theater—something he had never indulged in while living in Germany. It was a time when romantic dramas were pushing the old classical plays off the stage. Their second night in Paris, they saw Meyerbeer’s Robert de Diable with Mèlanie’s father (who had consented to the marriage prior to its occurrence).

The Hahnemanns dined at the famous Tour d’Argent restaurant that had gorgeous views of the Seine, attended the ceremonial opening of the Arc de Triomphe, and admired the newly arrived obelisk of Luxor in the Place de la Concorde. [The obelisk was an ancient (1250 B.C.) monument gifted to France from Egypt.]

The Gallic Homeopathic Society, started in 1832, made Hahnemann an honorary president, and he sat as chairman at their infrequent meetings and encouraged all those studying homeopathy to follow the doctrine as he had presented it. Before Hahnemann had arrived, the Society had been denied permission to open a homeopathic hospital. The decision was influenced by the French Royal Academy of Medicine whose members had argued, “reason and experience are united to repel with all the force of intelligence a system like this.”

France had been inundated with new medical systems ever since the French Revolution had swept away anything related to the old, established systems. Dr. Gall had brought phrenology (the study of head bumps), which was popular for a time. When that phase was waning, it was replaced by Mesmer and his mesmerism. To the Academy of Medicine, homeopathy was one more crazy phase; they had also tried to get Hahnemann’s request to practice medicine in France denied. Fortunately, the Minister of Public Instruction, M. Guizot, was more open-minded. He wrote, “If homeopathy is a chimera, or a system without internal cohesion, it will collapse of its own accord.” He chided members of the Academy, saying that their mission should be to “favor science and to encourage discoveries.”

[An aside: In Hahnemann’s opinion, the members of the Academy were “barbaric venesectors.” By the time the Hahnemanns arrived in Paris, Broussais’ once very popular blood-letting method was starting to decline, but not fast enough for Hahnemann. Regarding Broussais’ method, Hahnemann wrote, “The doctors of Europe and elsewhere willingly took to this one easy method of treating all diseases, because it spared them all reflection (the hardest work under the sun!).”]

After living in France for three years, Hahnemann wrote to a friend, “I found that France was, and is still, very weak in our art….” But he goes on to say that young medical graduates had become more and more interested because of “the number of cures affected by myself and my dear wife.” On a more personal note, he wrote, “I live here highly respected, partly no doubt because my wife is a Frenchwoman of good family and has a large circle of distinguished friends; and I enjoy better health and spirits than for the past twenty years. Many Germans who knew me formerly tell me I look many years younger, for which I have expressly to thank my loving warden, my dear Mèlanie.”

All of Hahnemann’s letters from that period of his life tell of his continued love for Mèlanie. She adored him as well—along with his medical system—and applied herself to learning it wholeheartedly. Less than two years after moving to Paris, Hahnemann wrote a friend, “...through her own study of our science she daily progresses more and more. Her cures of the worst diseases...amazed everybody, and at times, even myself.” They saw patients together every morning and Mèlanie held a clinic for the poor in the afternoon. There was no shortage of patients, from all social classes and many nationalities, and the Hahnemanns eventually had to move to a larger house to accommodate them all. The practice was “opulent and fashionable,” and rose far above the category of a “fringe” medicine.

Typically, in the nineteenth century, physicians were expected to go to the homes of their wealthy patients, and it was a sign of Hahnemann’s renown that these people traveled to him. There were exceptions: When people were too ill to make the trip, Hahnemann and/or Mèlanie would travel to them, and one patient, Baron Rothschild, was so rich and powerful that he offered enough money to always receive house calls. Some other famous patients were Lord Elgin, who brought the “Elgin marbles” to Britain, sculptor David d’Angers, portrait painter Henri Scheffer, dramatist and essayist, Ernest Legouve, Comédie-Francaise actress Rachel, Philippe Musard, the “Glenn Miller of his day,” violinist Paganini, and many others. The Hahnemanns charged fees on a sliding scale basis, and Mèlanie maintained her free clinic for the poor throughout her practice, even after she became a widow.

Mèlanie’s old painting teacher, Guillaume Guillon-Lethière (see part 8), entrusted his grandchildren to Melanie in his will, and they lived with her and Hahnemann. Ea Lethière became a painter, like her grandfather, but Charles Lethière studied pharmacy, became the Hahnemanns right-hand man, and later qualified as a doctor and a homeopath himself. Mèlanie’s father was treated for cataracts by the Hahnemanns, and several of Hahnemann’s children received treatment through correspondence with him. Only one of his children, Amalie, ever travelled to Paris to see him. He had hopes that expansion of the railroad would eventually allow others to easily visit him, but it never happened.

One patient, Helen Berkley, French-born American author, playwright, actress, and preservationist wrote a detailed account of her consultation with the Hahnemanns. It’s a fascinating read in its entirety, but here I will share her detailed physical descriptions of the pair. She described Mèlanie as “an elegant-looking woman, with a finely rounded form, somewhat above the medium height. Her face could not be called beautiful or pretty, but the term handsome might be applied to it with great justice. Her forehead was full and high, and her hair thrown back in a manner which perfectly displayed its expansive proportions. Those luxuriant tresses of a bright, flaxen hue were partly gathered in a heavy knot at the back of her head and partly fell in long ringlets behind her ears. Her complexion was of that clear but tintless description which so strongly resembles alabaster. There was a thoughtful expression in her large blue eyes, which, but for the benignant smile on her lips, would have given a solemn aspect to her countenance.”

Hahnemann she described thus: “His slender and diminutive form was enveloped in a flowered dressing gown of rich materials, and too comfortable in appearance to be of other than of Parisian make. The crown of his large, beautifully proportioned head was covered by a skull cap of black velvet. From beneath it strayed a few thin snowy locks, which clustered about his noble forehead, and spoke of the advanced age which the lingering freshness of his florid complexion seemed to deny. His eyes were dark, deep set, glittering and full of animation.”

At some point during the consultation, Hahnemann came to realize that Helen had been in Germany and knew the language. “He immediately commenced a conversation in his native tongue, inquiring how I was pleased with Germany, what I thought of the inhabitants, their customs, whether I found the language difficult, how I was impressed with the scenery, and continuing an enthusiastic strain of eulogium upon his beloved country for some time.” Her story shows that Hahnemann clearly felt great nostalgia for his homeland. As much as he had suffered persecutions there, he would always love it dearly.

Next: The Hahnemanns in Paris, part 2 – the last installment of the series.