Hahnemann: The Father of Homepathy - Part 7

In 1821, Dr. Samuel Hahnemann, 66 years old, moved away from Leipzig and his teaching position at the university to remove himself from the “pretensions of any apothecary.” [See part 6.] He was tired of the constant fighting—with the apothecaries, as well as with the physicians who had joined forces with them. Some of his followers accused him of giving up, but he knew that removal from the discord was what he required in order to finish his research, and he also wanted to practice homeopathy without restrictions. Hahnemann’s desire was fulfilled when Grand Duke Frederick of Anhalt-Köthen, whom Hahnemann had cured of a complicated disease, offered him sanctuary in his kingdom. [Germany at that time was divided into small but absolute kingdoms, with their own laws and customs.]

Hahnemann thought he had found a haven under the protection of Grand Duke Frederick but the reality was slightly different. Rural Köthen was only 43 miles from urban Liepzig, but the route between the two was neither well-paved nor well-marked; it was easy to get lost at crossroads—all of which made visiting Hahnemann an ordeal for his followers. Also, the Köthen townspeople did not welcome him with open arms. They called him “Evil Wizard,” and one of them threw a rock through his window the first week he was there. He wasn’t sure he could stay, and wrote a friend in Berlin, “I cannot live here quietly much longer because of the many chicaneries, and I must seek out a new place of abode.” But his position as the Grand Duke’s personal physician was too good an appointment to abandon. And, fortunately, once the townspeople came to know Hahnemann, they accepted him. The “Evil Wizard” became “The Hermit.”

Hahnemann reportedly spent his first few months in seclusion, seldom leaving his new home except to visit the Grand Duke professionally. If a former patient or one of his followers needed him, they had to visit him at his house—not easy, considering the roads—or write to him. Hahnemann promptly answered his mail, sometimes sending a needed medicine to a patient. Interestingly, six months after Hahnemann moved to Köthen, the authorities in Leipzig granted homeopaths, “under certain conditions,” the right to dispense their own medicines (see part 6). Despite that, Hahnemann continued living in Köthen with his “more perfect liberty.” He was happy to relinquish command of the ongoing battle to his younger followers, who had the stamina and drive to keep fighting. His abandonment of the battlefield did nothing to ease the Old School’s persecutions, so the new generals had their work cut out for them.

Hahnemann passed much time in his new home’s back garden, and on pleasant days took a drive in his carriage. But he was not idle. He now had the quiet, meditative time in which to finalize and perfect his new method, and this he did with renewed vigor and concentration. While in Köthen, he published the third, fourth, and fifth editions of his “Organon of Medicine,” and newer editions of his Materia Medica Pura as well. He also published his book on chronic disease, which has been called “that great monument to his genius.”

A year before the book was published, Hahnemann shared his findings on chronic disease with the two homeopathic physicians whom he trusted the most: Johann Ernst Staph and Gustav Wilhelm Gross. He wanted to be sure to pass on the information since he was 73 years old and believed “it was not improbable that I might be called into eternity before I could complete this book.”

“The Chronic Diseases: Their Peculiar Nature and Their Homeopathic Cure” was published in 1828. After long years of research, thousands of experiments, and the peace and quiet that gave him uninterrupted time for reflection, Hahnemann finally completed his compendium on Homeopathy. He had, for years, seen that there were some ailments that could not be permanently cured by Homeopathy and which he termed “the remains of some deep-seated chronic disease.” In this book, Hahnemann gave guidance on how to obliterate these ancient chronic diseases. But it introduced a complexity into prescribing that certain homeopathic physicians didn’t want to believe existed. The book caused a sharp divide in the homeopathic community. [An aside: The complexity is widely accepted today, but one must attain a very good homeopathic education with knowledgeable teachers in order to understand it. If one is a “lay practitioner,” it’s best to treat only acute disease and/or make first aid recommendations. One should never try to treat chronic ailments unless Hahnemann’s lessons on chronic disease are thoroughly understood.]

Hahnemann was living in Köthen when the 50th anniversary of his graduation from medical school rolled around (August 10, 1829). He had been in Köthen eight years, and by this time the townspeople had accepted him so thoroughly that he had had to hire an assistant to keep pace with his patients. As old as he was, he stayed very busy between his local patients, all those who wrote to him for help, and those who came to him as pupils. “The Hermit” was beloved, and everyone in the town pitched in to organize what would become an annual celebration. His friends wished for a reliable likeness of him and engaged portrait painter Schoppe, from Berlin, and sculptor Dietrich Jun, from Leipzig. From all parts of Germany and beyond, friends and former pupils came to honor Hahnemann at this Fest-Jubilee, and several gave him presents. The Duke and Duchess attended as well, and gave him a gold snuff box and a valuable antique drinking cup.

Hahnemann “gave thanks to God that he had been allowed to make so sublime a discovery and that he had been continued in bodily and mental vigor.” And he thanked his many friends. He wrote, “I can bear much joy and grief, but I was hardly able to stand the surprise of so many, and such strong proofs of the kindness and affection of my disciples and friends with which I was overwhelmed on the 10th of August.” The celebration also showed him that all his hard work had not been in vain. The seed of Homeopathy was now so deeply rooted, its growth so widely spread, that there was no stopping it.

Sadly, less than a year later, Hahnemann’s wife of 48 years died. She had been ailing for many years and refused all medications at the end. Hahnemann wrote, “After great suffering, fever, and pains, she at length gently fell asleep in our arms with the cheerfullest expression in the world, to wake up in eternity.” Their youngest daughter, Louise, whose husband had died, came to Köthen to give support during her mother’s last days and stayed. His daughter Charlotte had never married or moved away. The two daughters kept house for Hahnemann, the widower, who expected nothing more out of life than to make that final journey into eternity to join his wife.

It’s funny how reality often goes contrary to our expectations. Hahnemann's predictable life took an interesting turn, taking him completely by surprise. Until next time….

Hahnemann: The Father of Homeopathy - Part 6

Dr. Samuel Hahnemann was 57 years old when he earned the right to teach at Leipzig University by giving a brilliant thesis on Helleborism of the Ancients (see part 5). He did not reveal that he would be teaching homeopathy—there was no mention of homeopathic truths in his thesis—but that is exactly what he did. His plan was to teach malleable minds, since he had given up on reaching the closed-minded established physicians. He wrote, “No, it is only the young whose heads are not deluged to overflowing with a flood of everyday dogmas, and in whose arteries there runs not yet the stream of medical prejudice; it is only such young and candid natures, on whom truth and philanthropy have got a hold, who are open to our simple doctrine of medicine.”

Hahnemann gave two weekly lectures during his time as a professor in Leipzig (1812 – 1821). His classes were attended by students, some physicians, and by a few non-medical people as well, such as Baron Ernst Georg von Brunnow, a law student whose “bodily sufferings” Hahnemann’s remedies helped greatly. The lectures were well-attended at first, because Hahnemann was making wonderful cures in Leipzig. However, his lectures contained vociferous attacks on the old methods, leaving no doubt that he thought them antiquated, dangerous, and lazy. Perhaps if he had been more temperate in describing them, he might have attracted more adherents, but his strict code of truth did not allow him to whitewash the Old School’s ways.

[An aside: Baron von Brunnow gave up his career in law due to his delicate constitution and devoted his life to literary pursuits. He became an "ardent champion of the cause," and translated Hahnemann’s “Organon of Medicine” into French and assisted with the translation of Hahnemann’s Materia Medica into Latin. He was also a poet and a novelist.]

It was during these Leipzig years that Hahnemann, with a loyal group of students nicknamed The Provers' Union, experimented with medicines to the point of being able to publish a huge amount of information about them (see part 4 to better understand provings). This extensive symptom documentation has been the means of “removing much suffering from humanity,” because this bank of symptoms, when searched with a specific patient in mind, points the way to a well-selected remedy. [Homeopathic repertories have organized the symptoms so that they are easily searchable.]

We owe a debt of gratitude to one of Hahnemann’s “most zealous” students, Franz Hartmann, who was part of The Provers' Union and went on to become a renowned homeopath. He documented his time with Hahnemann in great detail, writing, “when I made Hahnemann’s acquaintance, his fame was widespread, and he performed cures which bordered on the incredible, and which established his reputation more and more permanently.” And wrote, “He took pleasure in conversing with me on the sciences, and was always most enthusiastic when on the subject of Materia Medica and therapeutics. I always took especial pains to add fuel to the fire, partly because his fiery zeal was entertaining, and partly because I acquired thereby such a knowledge of Homeopathy, and for many practical observations upon Homeopathy I am indebted to these explosions.” He also gives a detailed physical description of Hahnemann in these years, as “a small, thick-set man, constrained in his gait and bearing, with a bald head and a high, beautifully formed forehead.” And when in the midst of his fiery zeal, “the blood at such times crowded up to his head, the veins became turgid, the brow was flushed, his brilliant eyes sparkled, and he was obliged to take off his little cap to admit the cool air to his heated head.” But when outside the classroom and surrounded by those he trusted, he displayed “the mirthful humor, the familiarity and openness, the wit.” Hahnemann's choice of clothes also demonstrated the difference between his professional and his home life. In his classroom he dressed simply, in a dark coat. When entertaining friends at home, he preferred a “gaily figured” dressing gown.

In 1813, a typhus epidemic came to Leipzig and Hahnemann’s success in treating it silenced his critics for a time. He lost only two patients, whereas the other physicians lost many more than that. He gained many “followers,” but eventually the Old School once again tried to stop his progress. Baron von Brunnow (mentioned above) writes, “His flourishing practice and numerous adherents had become too alarming to his adversaries not to prompt them to take such active measures for his suppression as lay within their power.” Hahnemann was, once again, in trouble for dispensing his own medicines, just as he had been in Konigslutter (see part 5). The year was 1820, but Hahnemann got a small reprieve from the court proceedings because one of the heroes of the Napoleonic war, Field Marshal Prince Schwartzenberg, asked Hahnemann to help him recover from a life-threatening ailment. He initially asked Hahnemann to visit him in Vienna, but Hahnemann responded that “his many literary and scientific labors would not permit so long an absence from Liepzig.” So this celebrated war hero came to Hahnemann, which created quite a bit of jealousy amongst the other physicians.

Homeopathy helped Prince Schwartzenberg recover to some extent, but his hedonistic lifestyle had worn down his body and he eventually died. Brunnow wrote, “To the astonishment of all, the patient felt himself better from day to day, and he was seen driving about after a little time; but the powers of life had been too much weakened to permit of his recovery.” And, “Although the post-mortem proved that no medical skill could by any possibility have been successful in the case, yet the issue of it was very injurious to Hahnemann.” Prince Schwartzenberg’s physician claimed that Hahnemann’s refusal to employ “powerful measures” hastened the prince’s death, despite the fact that the physician had also continued to bleed him. In any event, his death caused the suspended legal processes against Hahnemann to resume with increased vigor, and he was ultimately ordered to stop dispensing his own medicines.

With the persecution of Hahnemann came the persecution of many of his students. To give one example, Christian Gottlob Hornburg, a medical student at the University of Liepzig, especially loved Hahnemann’s lectures and grasped the topic so thoroughly that he was able to achieve several astounding cures himself. He had already earned his baccalaureate, and was doing work towards his medical degree so, strictly speaking, he was not supposed to be seeing patients. Other medical students, who were not proponents of Homeopathy, also gave medical advice and escaped reproof, but because his cures were homeopathic, Hornburg was persecuted. He was fined, and the authorities even went so far as to take his homeopathic medicines from his home and publicly burn them. Worse, and in large part because he spoke so critically about the old methods, he was never awarded his medical degree. He tried in several universities and failed; the “powers that be” wanted to make an example of him. He eventually gave up trying to earn a degree, but never stopped practicing homeopathy. Unfortunately, his tormentors never stopped either, always looking for ways to punish him. In 1833, about fifteen years after his remedies had been publicly burned, he was condemned to two months’ imprisonment for treating a woman with pneumonia who later died at the hands of regular physicians. They knew she had worked with Hornburg and blamed her death on him. The news of this judgement devastated Hornburg. He was recovering from influenza when he learned of it, so not in perfect health, and the shock—and very possibly the imprisonment itself—caused him to go into a decline. He was dead six months later. Fortunately, many of those in Hahnemann’s Provers' Union sidestepped or survived the Old School’s persecution and carried on practicing homeopathy quite successfully, including Hartmann (mentioned above).

All Hahnemann ever wanted to do, always for the absolute good of humanity, was to dispense the simple medicines that he so thoroughly understood, that he himself had made so that he could guarantee their quality, and to share his new method with anyone who was open to learning it. But after nearly ten years of teaching at the University of Leipzig, his dream came to an end. This last battle was the final straw for Hahnemann, who was now 66 years old. He determined to move his family once again, and sent out enquiries to find a place in which he could attain the peace and quiet he needed to continue his research and practice homeopathy without the constant battles. In the spring of 1821, the Grand Duke Frederick of Anhalt-Coethen invited Hahnemann to become private physician to himself and his wife and, perhaps more importantly, gave him free reign to “practice according to the feelings of his heart.”

Next: Hahnemann’s Coethen years, part I

Hahnemann: The Father of Homeopathy - Part 5

The turn of the century was a trying time for Samuel Hahnemann, especially in relation to his ability to practice his new method. If you remember from part 4, Hahnemann started using homeopathy with patients around 1796, in Konigslutter. But a few years later, his success during a scarlet fever epidemic caused his “professional brethren” to turn on him. Hahnemann’s patients rarely died, whereas the other physicians had significantly higher mortality rates. Nonsensically, rather than embrace the new and better method, they decided that Hahnemann had to go, and they joined forces to make that happen. Physicians elsewhere, in other cities, used the same ammunition to stop Hahnemann from practicing, meaning that as long as he refused to use the apothecaries for his medicines, he was not allowed to practice, and since he had a low opinion of apothecaries, thanks to his vast experience of them, he would never agree to use them.

It looked like his professional brethren had checkmated him. He was “poor and persecuted, driven from town to town,” and actually spent time back in Dessau, residing with his wife’s stepfather. He “lived by himself, and in his study, laying aside all medical practice” in order to “devote more time to the elaboration of the homeopathic method of healing.” I haven’t found additional details about these months in Dessau, but I’ve wondered if his wife and children lived with her mother while Hahnemann lived above his (step) father-in-law’s apothecary shop “by himself.” Did Samuel and Johanna go through a period of separation?

During this time, Hahnemann’s translation work also tapered off. His bitterness had caused his footnotes and forwards to become too sarcastic and derogatory, so the booksellers stopped hiring him. In one of his last translations, “Thesaurus Medicaminum, a New Collection of Medical Prescriptions,” he denounced the whole book, and commented sarcastically (when five substances were recommended for one prescription), “Why not include, also, the entire Materia Medica?”

But he published many articles and continued to dabble in his hobby, chemistry. He also wrote editorials to the non-medical public, defending his good name against the many slanderous attacks coming from his enemies, the non-homeopathic physicians. His optimism about revolutionizing medicine sharply declined during this period, as reflected in a quote from 1801: “The perfecting of our science in this new century is becoming an increasingly sad and gloomy business; without professional liberality and friendliness it will continue to be a science for bunglers for another full century.”

His chemistry hobby got him into a bit of trouble around 1800, and the error he made was thrown in his face for the rest of his life by all who wanted to discredit him. He made the mistake of saying he had found a new chemical salt that later turned out to be Borax, a quite well-known substance. Hahnemann admitted his mistake, refunded monies gained by the substance, and explained in several journals, “I am incapable of willfully deceiving. I may, like other men, be unintentionally mistaken. I am in the same boat with Klaproth and his ‘Diamond Spar,’ and with Proust and his ‘Pearl salt.” [NOTE: The chemists of the day were always seeking new substances, and often made mistakes. One chemist, Van Ruprecht, made three new discoveries that all turned out to be iron, the errors most likely caused by his rusty crucibles.]

And all through these difficult years Hahnemann continued to fight for the ability to make his single-remedy medicines, comparing enforced restrictions to a great artist who is told he cannot prepare his own “expressive, beautiful, and durable colors.” Instead of Raphael, Michael Angelo, and Titian creating masterpieces, their paintings “would have been ordinary daubs and mere market goods” had they been ordered to purchase their colors from a shop. In 1805, he published, “Aesculapius in the Balance,” in which he gives detailed arguments against the laws pertaining to apothecaries, revealing that an apothecary often “sends a different prescription from the chemically impossible one ordered by the physician, or substitutes one drug for another.” He says that, rather than prohibiting a physician from making his own medicine, “the physician should be prohibited, under the severest penalties, from allowing any other person to prepare the medicines required for his patients,” particularly since he’s the only one responsible for the outcome. In 1805, Hahnemann also published the first book on his provings, described in part 4.

The publicity from the scarlet fever epidemic caused Hahnemann to receive many letters containing requests for medical help, which he answered if they contained a fee. Slowly, his finances began to improve, and around 1805 he moved his family to Torgau, where he stayed for 6 or 7 years—a long time for him. He even bought a house with a garden, and he also began treating patients again. Perhaps the physicians backed off from their persecutions since “Aesculapius in the Balance” had outed the apothecaries so thoroughly that it would be difficult to defend them.

Hahnemann was in Torgau when he published his textbook on homeopathy, "Organon of Medicine," in 1810. A grateful patient/publisher in Dresden agreed to print the book, but it certainly didn’t fly off the shelves. Nevertheless, its publication unleashed a tidal wave of hatred from physicians and “was the signal for the commencement of a violent warfare against Hahnemann.” The "Organon of Medicine" besmirched their morals as well as their methods, so the gauntlet was officially thrown down. Dr. Constantine Hering, one of the first homeopaths to set up practice in America, wrote of the event, “It is disgusting to state how it was received; it was, and it remains forever, an inexcusable meanness of the whole profession.” One Dr. A. F. Hecker, of Berlin, panned the book so viciously that even Hahnemann’s opponents defended him against that review.

[An aside: Hering, born in 1800 in Germany, moved to Philadelphia in 1833 and is considered the Father of Homeopathy in the Americas. A medical doctor, he initially set out to expose homeopathy as a sham and was ultimately convinced of its validity when the homeopathic remedy Arsenicum album cured him of a gangrenous dissecting wound. Many physicians came to support homeopathy in this way—by trying it for themselves.]

Hahnemann rarely responded directly to the physicians. He didn’t want to give strength to their accusations by acknowledging them. However, the critique of his textbook pushed him to the limit. In a letter to his publisher, he wrote, “If Hecker and opponents of his stamp remain unrefuted, I cannot with honor go on with the educational works I am projecting, and even the Organon itself will cease to be respected. No one would believe the effect such mendacious representations have on the public.” He asked his son, Friedrich, to write a pamphlet refuting the many critiques. Friedrich, who was 24 years old and studying to become a doctor himself, was listed as author, but it was clear to those who were familiar with Hahnemann’s writings that he had guided his son’s hand.

The positive side of all the bad publicity was that it gained Hahnemann many converts to his new system of healing. Those with open minds, who were willing to give homeopathy a try, often continued with it—some partially, others wholeheartedly. But Hahnemann saw the wisdom of sharing his method with medical students, who had not yet had the old methods firmly fixed in their minds. In 1811, he decided to “engage more actively in the propagation of his new system by means of didactic lectures.” He moved his family back to “the great medical city of Leipzig,” and gave a brilliant thesis entitled, “A Medical Historical Dissertation on the Helleborism of the Ancients.” His dissertation is a “wonder of philological research,” and its brilliance earned him the right to lecture in the Medical Department at the University of Leipzig.