Summary Je Trouve Bien My father was born in Alexandria in 1892 to an Egyptian father and Italian mother. His father's family originated in Lebanon. His mother’s family came from Naples, but hard times compelled them to move to Alexandria. He lived in Ramleh near Carlton Station. He graduated in medicine at Geneva University and undertook study tours of the Middle East. At an oasis he met Haj Kalil, priest, physician, philosopher and clan leader and was introduced into local ways of healing. That meeting influenced his approach to healing, leading to a belief that there are no diseases only patients. Part 1 is a series of anecdotal case studies with rich descriptions of the people, landscapes and culture of the time. At the outbreak of WW1, he volunteered to help at a Serbian military hospital and describes a journey by boat from Pescara to Ragusa and by horse and cart to the hospital at Nish. After contracting typhus, he returned home to recover and then worked at the British military hospital in Cairo during the Dardanelle campaign. There he made friends with several British officers which lead to his eventual move to England. Although he specialised in surgery, he also became experienced in dermatology through contact with leprosy. His reputation grew and after twice being kidnapped to treat injured criminals and families hiding leprotic members, he feared for his safety and decided to emigrate to England in the early 1920’s. Part 2 describes his rise to prominence in England by successfully treating patients whose own doctors were unable to cure. His approach to helping them was developed from a fusion of Levantine wisdom learnt from Haj Kalil, new scientific methods taught at Geneva University and researching psychotherapy techniques developed by Carl Jung. He would look for the causes, often in the subconscious or in lifestyle, rather than treat the symptoms. Also, his knowledge of tropical diseases helped to cure patients such as an equerry to a royal prince. Other prominent patients included Lord Beaverbrook, Doris Delavigne, Tallulah Bancroft and Anita Loos. He describes trips to Turkey and Albania at the special request of dignitaries who were trying to resolve inexplicable conditions. On his journeys back to the Middle East he carried out operations which would now be unacceptable in Western democracies. One anecdote describes how he inherited an unofficial Manet from a patient he cured. Apparently, Manet stayed as her guest on a trip to England and in return painted this picture for them, which had stayed in their house until the trustees past it on to him. Other gifts he received included copies of The Koran and The Arabian 1001 Nights. Transcribed in October 2019 by author’s son Leary Hasson. These memoirs were dictated over two to three years and were completed early 1978. He died in July 1979. JE TROUVE BIEN James Hasson TABLE OF CONTENTS PROLOGUE INTRODUCTION PART ONE I. Early Lessons in an Ancient Art II. ‘Post Tenebras Lux’ III. The Ways of Success and the Manner of Being IV. A Journey to Serbia V. Alexandrian Vignettes VI. A Detective Story VII. An Old Scourge VIII. A New Land PART TWO I. Striking Up Again II. Beyond Their Skins III. The Inexplicable in Suffering IV. Max Beaverbrook and Friends V. Jewel Farm VI. Mahmoud – My Lucky Bet! VII. ‘Le Médecin Malgré Lui’ VIII. Sources of Inspiration EPILOGUE PROLOGUE Dr. James Hasson, a Frenchman by birth, is a Doctor of Medicine from a reputable Swiss Faculty. He is a multi-linguist with a vast experience of medical experience in Egypt, England and on the Continent. He first practiced in Alexandria, where he made many friends during the First World War. He has entertained many with his narration of the oddities confronting a physician at that time. Some of these adventures are related in this book. Dr. Hasson practised in England from the early Twenties. During the 1939-45 war he was appointed Consultant Physician to General de Gaulle’s Forces in England and had many occasions to meet and exchange experiences with the many distinguished officers of these armies. Moreover, he entertained his friends lavishly at his home, Shenfield Mill, on the River Kennet. At the end of the Second World War, he was awarded the Medal of Honour for Military Health by General de Gaulle’s government. An honour equal to the medal he received twenty-five years previously from the Austrian Red Cross. Both were awarded, pro Patria et Humanitat, well within the finest traditions of the medical profession. Dr. Hasson’s first book, The Banquet of the Immortals, was published in 1948. INTRODUCTION In 1960 I bought our present home without seeing it. Somehow the advertisement on “Country Life” had attracted me deeply and, despite hearing that it had no proper kitchen, virtually no bathroom and an inadequate water supply, I made the decision. “Well, you are a sport!” exclaimed the Estate Agent. No doubt he had few other such clients. We arrived from London to find a Georgian portico over which we saw the emblem of a unicorn and the motto, “Je Trouve Bien”. As a Frenchman by birth and an Englishman through choice, this represented a strange and wonderful welcome. It reflected my experiences simply and briefly. Although the house was in need of much repair and redecoration, the panelling in the library was still intact so we built a fire there. With Andrée, my wife, on a stool, me on another and our four children – Frédéric, Lawrence, Françoise and Robert – on a bench between us, we discussed the prospects for the future. It seemed difficult to talk about the future, of the changes for us all in coming to this part of the West Country, without reflecting on the past – of our present home in Regents Park and my leaving the practice at Harley Street. Before I realised what was happening the children were asking for stories – my reminiscences really. When they were small I was quite good at developing a series of tales about a little blue fox but, now that they were in their teens, they were more interested in what I had been through and what I had achieved. It was fun to be drawn out by the children and they set me thinking. My beginnings were modest, though sound, and through a great deal of hard work I graduated in medicine at Geneva in 1915. Even prior to that I had had some unusual adventures and subsequently I was to have more. Whether it was a difficult case, or a tight corner, or the imminence of personal loss, somehow I have always managed to emerge with something better than I had experience or possessed before. “Je Trouve Bien” could have been my motto from the earliest days. It has certainly proved true – be it with God’s help, a great deal of luck, my own efforts and the kindness of many friends and acquaintances. These reflections are based upon the true stories I told my children. While we all have doubts about the future, I cannot tell you how important it is to hope and act in faith. “Je trouve Bien” is not possible without this and, in reflecting on my own past, I wish to share my thoughts in such a way as to encourage someone else to experience the same hope. *********** PART ONE I. EARLY LESSONS IN AN ANCIENT ART Imagine a mosque standing at the edge of a desert, its minaret gleaming white against an unsure sky. Surrounding the mosque is a small oasis of fig, date and banana trees against a backdrop of coronated palms. The front of the mosque is veiled by a magnificent climbing solandra studded with multi-coloured bougainvillea. The heavily scented air is alive with the chanting of a multitude of students in prayer. In the centre of the square facing the mosque is a large tourbeh, or tomb, which is reputed to contain mortal remains of a renowned saint. At this sacred spot many unhappy people claim to have found peace and a release from suffering through prayer. This beautiful oasis, conjuring a vision of Haroud al Raschid and the Arabian nights, was the domain of a great man – Haj Kalil; a curious amalgam of priest, physician and protector. Originally the Haj had studied medicine in Constantinople but, after visiting the tomb of Mohammed, he also became a hodja. Eventually he settled at this monastery to practise his profession in accordance with his own personal philosophy. After a short wait before the mosque I was ushered into the audience chamber where, for the first time, I set eyes on Haj Kalil – it was impossible not to regard him with awe. He was tall and handsome with very regular features, unswerving dark eyes and a small greying beard. A flowing robe of striped silk hung loosely from his shoulders and he was wearing a fez surrounded by a magnificent silk turban. His long tapering fingers were unmistakably those of a surgeon, whilst his manner and bearing were that of an aristocrat. On each side of the room young Moslem priests muttered endless prayers, their nimble fingers running continuously over their amber sebhas. I later discovered that all of them had been blind since soon after their birth, all victims of trachoma. Even today, almost seventy years later, there are still over a million people suffering from this disease, although better hygiene and the advent of penicillin have greatly reduced its threat. I was so enthralled with the scene that it was with a sudden sense of shock that I realised the great man was beckoning me to sit beside him.