HAHNEMANN IN POST-REVOLUTIONARY FRANCE AND THE POLITICS OF EARLY ENGLISH HOMOEOPATHY – Peter Morrell

Main

‘For two generations at least, in every European country, the memory
of the French Revolution – still in some ways central to the French themselves – was a
profound psychological fact. For the most respectable, established and propertied men and
women, the main ingredient of that memory was fear…’ (Garraty & Gay, 1972, p774)

The events were certainly horrifying for all aristocrats and royals (who
had a vested interest in maintaining the status quo), but also for political leaders and
middle-classes in all states, who in their turn must have pondered long and urgently upon
the whole concept of a social revolution. Why was it necessary? What were its aims? Were
they all living in a society that had had its day? Were these the last twitches of the
feudal dinosaur? What had gone wrong?

Hahnemann will also have read of the defeat of Napoleon Bonaparte in
Moscow in 1812 and the subsequent return of the tattered remnants of his army through
Saxony. And much closer to home was the Battle of Leipzig in October 1813. It would surely
be very naive for us to believe that Hahnemann was ignorant of these major political events
of the day. Indeed, many of the earliest successful tests of homoeopathy against Cholera and
Typhus were made upon members of that army. And Cook mentions Hahnemann’s work with the
wounded after the Battle of Leipzig (Cook, p103-4).

There are broadly two aspects to our theme: one deals with the political
aspects, reactions to and repercussions of the French Revolution itself and the social and
political atmosphere of France in the first 40 years of the last century; and the other
deals with the medical view of these events. Finally, I hope to show how both these themes
are relevant to the importation of homoeopathy into England, and how that was achieved in
the 1830’s.

What kind of medicine should France, or indeed any Republican country,
adopt? What is meant by a ‘medicine for the masses’, as opposed to a ‘medicine for the
rich’? These are extremely important questions, primarily because the deeply stratified
society of late eighteenth century Europe, and which had given rise to homoeopathy, was
essentially aristocratic, founded upon patronage by royalty and ‘the rich’ of a medical
middle-class of which Hahnemann was an integral part. The problem for France, having
disposed of its entire aristocracy in the Revolution, was how this model of medicine was to
be viewed and revised in post-revolutionary times? And what form of medicine did they wish
to create? We will not be able to answer very fully all these questions, but hopefully, we
can make a start and carve out some answers to some of the important questions we have
raised.

Post-Revolutionary France

The probability remains that Hahnemann, through living in Paris for the
last 8 years of his long life, caused homoeopathy to acquire certain lasting revolutionary
French features. Chief amongst these were the concepts of free treatment for the poor and
universal medical care, both of which became, for example, central aspects of the National
Health Service in Britain from 1948 onwards. In this way, therefore, homoeopathy was way
ahead of allopathic thinking at that time, and as a medical ideology it had clearly come to
incorporate into itself some broadly ‘socialist’ underlying ideas like fairness, liberty,
equality, compassion and help for the poor and weak. It is my contention here that those
traits can in their turn be traced back to those revolutionary times. The question then
becomes: to what extent can these qualities be traced back to Hahnemann himself, to Melanie,
to post-revolutionary France, or to all three?

‘Yet the most revealing measures enacted by the republicans were not
so much political and economic as social and cultural. Believing in human dignity,
equality, and fraternity, the republicans tried to make these beliefs part of the fabric
of French life… in this spirit the republicans abolished slavery in the French colonies
as well as imprisonment for debt. They proclaimed their faith in free public education.
They discouraged the use of aristocratic words…’ (Garraty & Gay, 1972, p771)

In the very broadest sense, we can see that since the 1800’s, society has
moved swiftly with the rising tide of republicanism and against the aristocracy. There has
continued apace a ‘liberalisation of Europe’. This is true in almost every European country
and indeed, throughout the world, where democracy is increasingly portrayed as the
preferred, the fairest and the best political system – ‘rule by the people for the people’.

‘The French Revolution had set a precedent of a larger kind: a new
constitution drawn up, in the light of reason and from first principles, which threw the
meagre, stale, forbidding ways of custom, law, and statute into the shadows.’ (Thompson,
1963, p97)

And much of the ‘ideological push’ behind the French Revolution came from
its immediate historical predecessor, the American War of Independence and the writings of
Rousseau (1712- 1778) and Paine (1737-1809). Once the potent concept of the ‘rights of man’
had emerged, like some genie released from the bottle, then everyone wanted to have and to
exercise those rights and no-one since has been able to put that genie back in the bottle
(or indeed, even try). Yet from our standpoint in the late twentieth century, many of these
features of late eighteenth century life are not obvious, but somewhat obscure.

Though the French Revolution was, like its Russian successor, a
particularly bloody and brutal form of revolution, yet the shared underlying aims sound
reasonable enough to us today — that men (and women) should decide their own futures and
their own political systems and must if necessary overthrow by force what they see as the
encrusted and fossilised, oppressive political systems of the past; of a privileged, elite
ruling class and of unfair, inherited systems of patronage. Such systems dominated Europe at
that time and were some of the last tangible vestiges of medieaval feudalism.

Homoeopathy in FranceThe tone of what was to be expected of homoeopathy in
France, and what it might achieve there, finds very clear expression in some of Dr
Croserio’s remarks about the aims of the Paris College of Homoeopathy.

The Paris College of Homoeopathy or ‘Institut de la Medecine
Homeopathique’ was located at 93 Rue de la Harpe, in the centre of old Paris, south of the
Ile de Citie. It was opened in Oct 1839 by Dr Croserio with Dr
Jahr teaching Materia Medica Pura in German, Dr
Mure teaching pharmacology and mnemonics and Dr Croserio running the
Homoeopathic Clinic (Bradford, 1895, p400). The expressed objectives of the College were
outlined by Dr Croserio in a letter to Dr Neidhard of Philadelphia as follows:

1. to teach students the theory and practice of homoeopathy
2. to spread the benefit of homoeopathy among the lower classes of the
   capital, by giving consultations gratis to those who will personally apply for them.
3. to give advice in writing to those patients in the country and in the
   Provinces of France, who, having no homoeopathic physicians near them, apply for it;
4. to prepare Homoeopathic medicines according to the method of Dr Mure;
5. to translate into the French language practical works on homoeopathy;
6. to publish, under the title of `la propagateur de l’homoeopathie’ a
   monthly periodical, by which all new homoeopathic works and periodicals will be
   reviewed.
7. to procure for those homoeopathic physicians and other individuals in
   the Provinces, or in foreign countries, who would apply for them, homoeopathic books,
   instruments, medicines and practical advice in particular cases.
8. to open a `cabinet de lecture’ where students, physicians, may read or
   borrow all homoeopathic books and peridocials published in France or other countries.
9. to consult strangers who come to Paris, either for studying
   homoeopathy, or for buying homoeopathic medicines, books etc.
10. to serve as a central point for homoeopaths of all nations and to
    nominate correspondents for that purpose in all foreign countries…’ (ibid, p400-401)

Point two (‘among the lower classes and…consultations gratis..’) states
clearly the revolutionary and proletarian nature of homoeopathy as seen by Dr Croserio and
thus presumably by Melanie and Samuel too? To what extent they actually believed this, or
whether they were just posturing to the fashion of their day, remains open to question.
Points 3, 7 and 8 (‘..may read or borrow..’) also strongly imply what we may term a
‘medicine for the masses’, free and open to all. Points 9 and 10 also invite anyone from
foreign countries to come to France and use homoeopathy at their leisure. All of this is
either consciously or unconsciously couched in the revolutionary language of the times, or
had been written by someone who genuinely believed these sentiments, more probably the
latter. That Dr Croserio was one of Samuel and Melanie’s closest and most trusted
associates, adds substance to our thesis, that these were their sentiments also.

English Homoeopathy

By contrast, in a previous article, I made the following observation about
the founders of English homoeopathy:

‘And what a shame it was for British homoeopathy that those noble
aims of the Paris Institute were not shared by Quin & Co nor imported to these islands
to create a ‘homoeopathy for the masses’ rather than a ‘homoeopathy for the rich elite’,
which is what they actually created. And how correspondingly impoverished we have
therefore been ever since. It would be of great interest to determine to what extent the
great popularity of homoeopathy in France can be attributed to the above sentiments and to
Hahnemann’s great generosity of spirit, and by contrast, how much its dismal track record
here can be attributed to the absence of the same attributes by the founders of English
homoeopathy.’ (from Samuel and Melanie in Paris, The Homeopath 62, 1996)

This critique seems quite valid from the modern perspective, but probably
misses a more subtle and underlying political point. That the founders of English
homoeopathy (Dr Quin and Co) appeared somehow selfish, elitist and uncompassionate through
not sharing Dr Croserio’s more broadly ‘socialist’ view of homoeopathy – is much less
surprising when you consider the vast political differences, then and now, between the two
countries. Britain was a proud monarchy that fiercely clung to its distinctive and
long-established, stratified class structure.

The British did not believe in revolutionary change, but at best in slow
piecemeal reform. That is more or less still the case today. They did not want a revolution
and could see little point in France having one. Britain had taken steps to become a
liberalised democracy during the times of Henry VIII (1530’s) and further liberalisations
were created by the Civil War, when for 11 years (1649- 60) it was a Republic and the
‘divine right of Kings’ was effectively extinguished forever. So that by, say 1700, Britain
could be, and was, justly regarded as the most liberal country in Europe. A position it
shared with the other Protestant regions – Scandinavia, Holland and Germany.

King Henry VIII (1491-1547) severed the English Crown from the Roman
Catholic Church, successfully challenged and fought off the power of the Pope and then
destroyed all the monasteries in 1537. That created in its wake a more liberal and tolerant
society that allowed people (within the limits of decency) to indulge their interests in
weird subjects if they so wished. A pleasure that was denied most of the rest of Europe
still under the iron-grip of the Pope and his Cardinals for two further centuries. All of
this, of course, can be traced back to Martin Luther (1483-1546) who first set the
Reformation going (in 1517) and who can, with some justice, be regarded as the founder of
the modern world.

In order to successfully import homoeopathy into Britain, Quin knew,
therefore, that it would have to be done by stealth. It would have to blend in with, rather
than openly challenge, the deeply conventionalised and long-cherished belief-patterns and
social structures of Britain itself. Like the introduction of anything alien into any
culture, in order to become quickly established and accepted with a minimum of fuss, the new
should always make some attempts to blend in with the old and strive to create more friends
than enemies. To what extent homoeopathy remained ‘blended in’ is open to question, however.

We might come to view Quin & Co in a slightly more sympathetic light,
therefore, by a fuller consideration of these potent social and political realities which
newly-imported British homoeopathy certainly faced. All of the above considerations are
vitally important when we come to assess the importation of homoeopathy into Britain, the
way it was presented to the British people and the standing and class of the man who did
that – Dr Quin. Our understanding of the progress of homoeopathy in Britain in its first 30
years or so, is also greatly deepened and enriched when we consider that homoeopathy came
from revolutionary France, was imported by a member of the British aristocracy and that he
introduced homoeopathy not as a component part of any French revolutionary political agenda,
nor as containing any overt or veiled challenge to traditional British values, but merely as
a revolutionary medical system that in his view was superior to strong drugging. The strong
German links and his own aristocratic background would have also served to greatly dampen
down any remaining vestiges of anti-French paranoia.

All of this is also highly relevant when we consider the class struggles
which did eventually emerge in Britain in the 1830-50’s (eg. Chartism) and how they often
became entangled with certain popular medical movements of the time, all of which became
loosely connected with the working class movement, and thus were perceived by some as other
aspects of their struggle against the new industrial barons (Barrow, 1986). It is no
surprise therefore, and certainly no coincidence, that homoeopathy was ‘held back’ from any
involvement in these mass movements. Quin kept homoeopathy tightly ‘reigned-in’ and reserved
almost exclusively for rich upper class clientele. Such otherwise inexplicable, and
apparently uncharitable, aspects of the early history of homoeopathy in Britain (and of Quin
himself) suddenly assume much greater significance, through considerations of the type we
have made above.

For example, Homeopathy arrived in Britain at a time of immense political
turmoil (1830’s) especially political and social reform movements, and also during
widespread national obsession with things like medical Galvanism, spiritualism, phrenology,
Mesmerism, magnet therapy and hydrotherapy. Botanic medicine also spread through the poor
industrial towns of the north and midlands, with breathtaking speed and popularity. These
factors undoubtedly strongly assisted the initial spread of homeopathy as a cause of
curiosity and interest. They assisted its dissemination, its absorption into public life and
its gradual easy expansion within the ‘medical marketplace’. The strong patronage by royals
and aristocrats also greatly assisted its adoption in what was a typically European feudal
hierarchy, and utterly class-ridden society!

Complex and ever-shifting allegiances were also formed (then broken and
then re-formed) in Britain between medical reformers, religious non-conformists and those
struggling for social and parliamentary reform. All were seen as intimately interconnected
for some people (eg. John Epps, 1805-69), while others emphasised only the medical aspect
(eg. Spencer T Hall, 1812-85). The fact is that during the 1830-60 period homoeopathy became
established in the UK at the same time as other political and medical reforms and religious
struggles were taking place. Some of these were overtly connected, others less clearly
related to one another. Much further research is needed to say any more than that at this
stage.

Dissenters

That the pungent whiff of revolutionary activity was ‘in the air’
elsewhere in Europe, is apparent from the activities of the ‘Jacobins’, or radicals, both in
Britain and on the Continent.

‘French ideas had certainly infected some Englishmen, most evidently
in the early 1790’s, when radicalism took an enormous step both forward and down in the
social scale..’ (Garraty & Gay, 1972, p785)

‘Several revolutionary societies similar to those already in France
soon appeared in London. However, the excesses of the revolutionists soon aroused the
hostility of the English public and caused the government to suppress all radical
societies and writings and to frown on anything that savoured of reform. This was
especially true after the French had deposed and executed their King and established a
republic.’ [Rickard, 1963, p.157]

Hopefully, we can now see that Quin could not possibly have conceived of
successfully transplanting homoeopathy into Britain as any sort of French ‘tool of political
liberation’ and he must also have known that he would have been a damned fool even to try.
In spite of his own frequent and extensive travels throughout Europe (mainly in France and
Italy), he must have been very keenly aware of the strong feelings in Britain (and
elsewhere) against the French Revolution and thus their opposition to most things French and
anything even vaguely radical, reformist or proletarian.

Indeed, it is true to say that so profoundly did the English feel betrayed
by the French when they executed their King (in Jan 1793), that it was seen not only as a
betrayal of reasonableness and justice, but a betrayal of the very heart of the English way
of life – the monarchy. It left England with no choice but to dissociate itself completely
from the French Republic and sever all ties, which it very rapidly did. This was a
disagreement strong enough for England to trump up any excuse for a war with France. The
subsequent invasion of Holland by the French provided just the excuse for which they had
been waiting.

Though things were more settled in the 1830’s, Quin must have thought long
and hard about this, and have known therefore, that his only safe and successful policy
would be to greatly play down all French connections of homoeopathy and to ‘play up’ its
many German links. Quin set up his first London practice in sept 1832, 3 years before
Hahnemann even went to Paris with Melanie. Yet homeopathy was being introduced into England
throughout the 1830’s and 40’s and so what I have termed the ‘French connections’ were
potentially visible from an early stage and could therefore have been a source of some
embarrassment for Quin. Another source of friction were the anti-Poor Law riots of 1835 and
1836 which were certainly regarded by the establishment as uprisings inspired by the French
Revolution. And by 1840 everyone knew that Hahnemann was living and working contentedly in
Paris. These facts might have caused Quin to wince once or twice about the French links of
homeopathy.

Now perhaps we can grasp more clearly the wonderfully shrewd pragmatism of
his chosen path of ‘quiet diplomacy and determined effort with the upper classes and
qualified medical men’ (Inglis, 1964, p79) in order to give homoeopathy any chance of
becoming established in the UK at all. Stated simply, no other strategy would have worked in
a Britain which had been completely outraged by the Revolution, and the imprisonment and
subsequent execution of the French King. The country was consumed with fervent and almost
universal anti-French feelings throughout the 1790’s. Feelings strong enough even for Durham
miners to burn effigies of Thomas Paine, the author of ‘The Rights of Man’ and a staunch
supporter of the Revolution.

‘…a loyal mob had paraded the streets carrying an image of Tom
Paine upon a pole, with a rope round his neck which was held by a man behind, who
continually lashed the effigy with a carter’s whip…’God save the King’ resounded in the
streets.’ (Wilberforce in Thompson, 1963, p112)

‘..in the next year (1795) the steady repression of reformers – or
Jacobins – was renewed. And by the end of the decade it seemed as if the entire agitation
had been dispersed. The London Corresponding Society had been outlawed. Tom Paine’s
‘Rights of Man’ was banned. Meetings were prohibited.’ (Thompson, 1963, p22)

So the British reactions to the French Revolution were rather mixed. To
some – the working classes – it seemed to offer the prospect (almost as quickly snuffed out)
of a new future based on democracy, fairness and the release from centuries of tyranny. To
others – the reactionary ruling classes, merchants and royalists – it presaged a nightmarish
vision of chaos and anarchy that was uncivilised, unwanted and unthinkable. The British
reaction was to suppress all forms of revolt and radicalism, even to the extent of turning a
blind eye to the terrible brutalities in the newly emerging factories and the squalor of the
lower classes, which were consequently officially ignored for most of the first half of the
nineteenth century.

The French Revolution…inevitably caused among the well-to-do over
here a horrified recoil from a considerable freedom of thought in religion and politics to
the hard and narrow timidity of a class alarmed for its privileges and possessions.’
(Trevelyan, 1937, p66)

Yet the dormant democratic hopes of the lower classes must have remained
alive in spite of the rampant and brutal repressions of freedom of expression ‘permitted’ by
the French Revolution.

‘From the time of Charles II until the publication of Paine’s The
Rights of Man, there was no movement to introduce democracy into our island…but the
idea, though suppressed and persecuted, took root, and in the early decades of the
nineteenth century made converts of many of the wage- earners, on account of their
sufferings, and on account of the harsh interference of the State against any attempts on
their part to secure a living wage from their employers. (ibid, pp73-4)

‘The democratic movement in England – that is to say the claim put
forward by the common people themselves that they should choose their governors in order
to improve their own conditions of life – owed its origin to the spectacle of the French
Revolution and to the writings of Tom Paine.’ (ibid p77)

Anti-French feelings in England were still strong in the 1830’s when
homoeopathy was first introduced.
While undoubtedly Quin was right, and the British class structure worked to the advantage of
establishing homoeopathy in those early days, in the sense that it helped to smooth its
passage, later it seemed to become a burdensome disadvantage:

‘…Quin’s social connections, useful though they were in introducing
homoeopathy into Britain, gave it an aristocratic aura which it could not shed… it never
really put down any roots among the workers, or the lower middle classes, except in a few
scattered practices… they resisted overtures from… the unqualified lay homoeopaths…
which… encouraged the development of an internal orthodoxy… which gave it, to
outsiders, an appearance of rigidity…their original progressive ideas had crystallised
into a narrow creed.’ (Inglis, 1964, p85)

Hahnemann As A Revolutionary

In summary, I think we can fairly safely conclude that Hahnemann was
broadly in favour of the Revolution and of the ideals of the French state in the 1830’s and
40’s. This should not surprise or alarm us too much – he was above all a caring and
compassionate man. If he had not been in favour it is hardly likely that he would have
turned his back on Germany forever by going to live in Paris for the last 8 years of his
life and working there very contentedly ‘in the thick of it’.

Likewise, I think we can safely conclude that his view of medicine as a
force in society, or as a ‘political tool’, was also strongly tinged with the political
idealism which surrounded him in early nineteenth century France and that he shared those
broader socialist beliefs for society and for medicine. Indeed, such beliefs will have
permeated and saturated Paris culture so completely, as to have become commonplace and
entirely unchallenged aphorisms about how life should certainly be. By returning to live in
Paris, Melanie and Hahnemann quite clearly chose, therefore, to immerse themselves in, and
identify themselves with, that culture. To what extent they discussed this is unknown. To
what extent Melanie appraised Hahnemann of the highly charged political atmosphere of Paris
in the 1830’s, is also anybody’s guess. In all probability she will have indicated to him
what to expect and discussed with him at length the politics of her native country. Oh, to
have been aboard that carriage as it sped to France in June 1835! And to have been party to
their discussions. My impression is that Hahnemann was as excited as a young child with the
whole forthcoming adventure.

‘…suddenly he takes a gay Parisian wife; the monotonous life of the
dull country town and the accustomed seclusion of domestic retirement delight him no
longer; and he hurries off to the capital of the beau monde with his youthful and elegant
bride. This marriage… produced a total revolution in Hahnemann’s habits and tastes… In
Paris, we find him entertaining company and accepting invitations; frequenting the opera,
and partaking moderately of the dissipations of the gay capital, and no longer confining
his medical practice to the consultations at his own house, but visiting patients at their
residences, like any other practitioner, which he had not done in Germany for more than
twenty years previously. He seems to have entered on this novel course with great zest;
and his new wife, to judge from his letters and the testimony of observers, rendered the
latter years of his life extremely happy.’ [Dudgeon, 1853, p.xxxix]

‘The second wife also dominated her husband completely… had
obtained mastery of a combination of youthful womanly beauty and an unusual calculating
wisdom, far superior to that of the old man, which was always translating persistently
into action what she had proposed… Hahnemann submitted himself to the second [wife] in
his profession. She became not only his wife and companion, but also his student, his only
assistant,a nd finally the undisputed organiser of his professional work in his final
years.’ [Haehl, Vol 1, p.262]

”What Hahnemann really lacked in his nature was an interest for
politics in the widest sense of the term, when we mean a real, personal interest for the
general, social economics of his countrymen. He was thoroughly non-political… his
writings and letters bear practically no sign of any interest in the national struggle of
his countrymen, in the mighty world events of his time — events which, in the period from
the end of the eighteenth century until almost the middle of the nineteenth century, had
brought about such chaotic upheavals not only in Germany but in the whole of Europe. He
regarded the incidents of war merely as obstacles in the way of his work of reform … he
complains now and then about the savage wars. He longs for them to end but takes no side..
very occasionally he shows regret at the revolutionary disturbances and hopes for a speedy
restoration of order –particularly in France, highly esteemed by him even before his
removal to Paris. He is most outspoken after the downfall of Napoleon, whom he regarded as
a the cause of oppression and of all evils.

Living in Paris he found the later revolutionary movements by no
means as bad as they were represented in the outer world, but even here he took no
side….during the whole of his sojourn in the gay city there is nowhere any trace of
inward personal interest in all these political happenings. To him America is the ideal of
freedom and from this freedom he hopes to attain unexpected advantages for homeoapthy and
its development within and without.’ [Haehl, Vol 1, p.263-64]

It is also highly likely that Melanie was pro-Revolution, but at this
stage we can cite no concrete evidence in support of this, other than her urgent desire to
return to Paris so soon after her marriage to Samuel in Coethen.

But as soon as we read Handley, 1990, we at last behold clear evidence of
Melanie’s strong pro- revolutionary trait:

‘[The Organon] gives clear expression of Hahnemann’s originality, but
is also the product of a mind steeped in the ideas of the eighteenth century
Enlightenment, and informed by the liberal humanitarianism of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. It
immediately resonated with Melanie’s own perception of life, (intellectual heir of
Rousseau and the French Revolution as she was)..’ (Handley, 1990, p3)

‘Melanie’s youth was spent in the period of Napoleon’s dominance.
These were the years during which an initial total public commitment to the Napoleonic
idea progressively but inevitably gave way to disillusionment.’ (ibid, p17)

‘Melanie’s family… probably led as comfortable a life in
post-revolutionary Paris as they ever had. Friends of Melanie’s family also tended to be
men of the liberal republican wing, individuals of some stature and principle, and many of
them had been actively involved in revolutionary politics. They were opposed in principle
to an Empire and an Emperor…’ (ibid p18)

‘Politics also occupied a good deal of Melanie’s attention…and this
is apparent in many of her poems. It would indeed have been quite impossible for anyone
living in Paris during the early nineteenth century to remain unaffected by politics. The
whole period of Melanie’s youth was concerned with the post- revolutionary attempt by a
variety of different groups and forces to find some workable method of government.’ (p36)

‘…there was a vigorous and articulate liberal opposition in Paris,
not only to Napoleon, but to any form of autocratic and repressive government…this
opposition grew even stronger…manifesting itself in sporadic outbursts of violence such
as the assassination in 1820 of Duc de Berry… many of the men who influenced Melanie’s
early years took part in this opposition.. such as Marquis de Lafayette.. whom she
regarded as the ‘apostle of liberty’ (pp36-7)

“In July, 1824…for Melanie. at this period, liberty was an
important concept, much under threat in France. She regarded Lafayette as the
“apostle of liberty”… and a benefactor of humanity on both sides of the
Atlantic, a bringer of liberty to two worlds,..[p37]

“The 1820s was clearly a period of passionate political
involvement for the young Melanie, and she made her stand on the republican wing of French
political life… despite the fact that she herself was a member of the most privileged
section of French societv, by birth an aristocrat, by profession an artist and an
intellectual.’

‘With her anti-monarchist views Melanie would have been happy to see
the Hourbons go in the July Revolution of 1830, and probably, agreeing with her social
peers…’ p44

“In reaction, on February 23rd, 1848, thousands of angry
Parisians marched through the streets demanding Guizot’s dismissal. Louis-Philippe hastily
did as they asked but the unrest continued. Troops were called out; they panicked and
fired into the crowd, killing about fifty people. Enraged, the crowd invaded the Chamber
of Deputies, and Louis-Philippe abdicated speedily and fled to England. For the second
time, France had a Republic; the July Monarchy was no more.”

‘From Melanie’s point of view, the Revolution [of 1848] can only have
been a good thing. It deprived her former opponents of political power and introduced into
the government no fewer than five politicians who were known to favour homeopathy,
including the influential Lamartine…She gradually began to re- establish her practice,
but she was still very sad and lonely. In 1849, as she wrote later, she visited
Hahnemann’s grave on his birthday, April 10th.’ [all quotes in this section from Handley,
1990]

I think these lengthy quotes more than amply demonstrate the soundness of
our main thesis, that both Sam and Melanie were broad supporters of the French Revolution
and that moving to Paris must to some extent have been a deliberate act of sympathy with the
underlying ethos of that Revolution. It therefore also follows that Hahnemann was happy both
to treat the poor for free and to operate a ‘sliding scale’ of fees (a range of 10F-300F)
based upon the patient’s ability to pay (see Handley, 1997, p.29). If that does not derive
from French socialism and denote a compassionate man, then maybe we should think again.

Apart from all this, we can also say that going to Paris was undoubtedly
also an excellent opportunity for Hahnemann to test in the metropolitan environment, in
extenso and in detail, his approach, his methods and his theories of the ‘new medicine’.

Sources:
Barrow, Logie, 1986, Independent Spirits, RKP, London
Bradford, T L, 1895, Life and Letters of Hahnemann, Jain Edition
Butler, A, 1980, Everyman’s Dictionary of Dates, Dent, London
Cook, Trevor, 1981, Samuel Hahnemann the Founder of Homeopathy, Thorson, UK
Dudgeon, Robert, 1853, Lectures On The Theory & Practice of Homeopathy, London
Garraty, P & P Gay, 1972, The University History of the World, Harper & Row, New
York
Handley, Rima, 1990, A Homeopathic Love Story, N Atlantic Books, Berkeley, USA
Handley, Rima, 1997, In Search of the Later Hahnemann, Beaconsfield, UK
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