self-existent, forever discriminating them from the notions of the
understanding, marks an era in the world. He was born to behold the
self-evolving power of spirit, endless generator of new ends; a power
which is the key at once to the centrality and the evanescence of
things. Plato is so centered, that he can well spare all his dogmas.
Thus the fact of knowledge and ideas reveals to him the fact of
eternity; and the doctrine of reminiscence he offers as the most
probable particular explication. Call that fanciful,--it matters not;
the connection between our knowledge and the abyss of being is still
real, and the explication must be not less magnificent.
He has indicated every eminent point in speculation. He wrote on the
scale of the mind itself, so that all things have symmetry in his
tablet. He put in all the past, without weariness, and descended into
detail with a courage like that he witnessed in nature. One would say,
that his forerunners had mapped out each a farm, or a district, or an
island, in intellectual geography, but that Plato first drew the sphere.
He domesticates the soul in nature; man is the microcosm. All the
circles of the visible heaven represent as many circles in the rational
soul. There is no lawless particle, and there is nothing casual in the
action of the human mind. The names of things, too, are fatal, following
the nature of things. All the gods of the Pantheon are, by their names,
significant of a profound sense. The gods are the ideas. Pan is speech,
or manifestation; Saturn, the contemplative; Jove, the regal soul; and
Mars, passion. Venus is proportion; Calliope, the soul of the world;
Aglaia, intellectual illustration.
These thoughts, in sparkles of light, had appeared often to pious and
to poetic souls; but this well-bred, all-knowing Greek geometer comes
with command, gathers them all up into rank and gradation, the Euclid
of holiness, and marries the two parts of nature. Before all men, he
saw the intellectual values of the moral sentiment. He describes his
own ideal, when he paints in Timaeus a god leading things from disorder
into order. He kindled a fire so truly in the center, that we see the
sphere illuminated, and can distinguish poles, equator, and lines of
latitude, every arc and node; a theory so averaged, so modulated, that
you would say, the winds of ages had swept through this rhythmic
structure, and not that it was the brief extempore blotting of one
short-lived scribe. Hence it has happened that a very well-marked
class of souls, namely those who delight in giving a spiritual, that
is, an ethico-intellectual expression to every truth by exhibiting an
ulterior end which is yet legitimate to it, are said to Platonize.
Thus, Michel Angelo is a Platonist, in his sonnets. Shakspeare is a
Platonist, when he writes, "Nature is made better by no mean, but
nature makes that mean," or,
"He that can endure
To follow with allegiance a fallen lord,
Does conquer him that did his master conquer,
And earns a place in the story."
Hamlet is a pure Platonist, and 'tis the magnitude only of Shakspeare's
proper genius that hinders him from being classed as the most eminent
of this school. Swedenborg, throughout his prose poem of "Conjugal
Love," is a Platonist.
His subtlety commended him to men of thought. The secret of his popular
success is the moral aim, which endeared him to mankind. "Intellect,"
he said, "is king of heaven and of earth;" but, in Plato, intellect
is always moral. His writings have also the sempiternal youth of poetry.
For their arguments, most of them, might have been couched in sonnets;
and poetry has never soared higher than in the Timaeus and the Phaedrus.
As the poet, too, he is only contemplative. He did not, like Pythagoras,
break himself with an institution. All his painting in the Republic
must be esteemed mythical, with intent to bring out, sometimes in
violent colors, his thought. You cannot institute, without peril of
charlatan.
It was a high scheme, his absolute privilege for the best (which, to
make emphatic, he expressed by community of women), as the premium
which he would set on grandeur. There shall be exempts of two kinds:
first, those who by demerit have put themselves below
protection,--outlaws; and secondly, those who by eminence of nature
and desert are out of the reach of your rewards; let such be free of
the city, and above the law. We confide them to themselves; let them
do with us as they will. Let none presume to measure the irregularities
of Michel Angelo and Socrates by village scales.
In his eighth book of the Republic, he throws a little mathematical
dust in our eyes. I am sorry to see him, after such noble superiorities,
permitting the lie to governors. Plato plays Providence a little with
the baser sort, as people allow themselves with their dogs and cats.
III. SWEDENBORG; OR, THE MYSTIC.
Among eminent persons, those who are most dear to men are not the class
which the economists call producers; they have nothing in their hands;
they have not cultivated corn, nor made bread; they have not led out
a colony, nor invented a loom. A higher class, in the estimation and
love of this city-building, market-going race of mankind, are the
poets, who, from the intellectual kingdom, feed the thought and
imagination with ideas and pictures which raise men out of the world
of corn and money, and console them for the shortcomings of the day,
and the meannesses of labor and traffic. Then, also, the philosopher
has his value, who flatters the intellect of this laborer, by engaging
him with subtleties which instruct him in new faculties. Others may
build cities; he is to understand them, and keep them in awe. But there
is a class who lead us into another region,--the world of morals, or
of will. What is singular about this region of thought, is, its claim.
Wherever the sentiment of right comes in, it takes precedence of
everything else. For other things, I make poetry of them; but the moral
sentiment makes poetry of me.
I have sometimes thought that he would render the greatest service to
modern criticism, who shall draw the line of relation that subsists
between Shakespeare and Swedenborg. The human mind stands ever in
perplexity, demanding intellect, demanding sanctity, impatient equally
of each without the other. The reconciler has not yet appeared. If we
tire of the saints, Shakespeare is our city of refuge. Yet the instincts
presently teach, that the problem of essence must take precedence of
all others,--the questions of Whence? What? and Whither? and the
solution of these must be in a life, and not in a book. A drama or
poem is a proximate or oblique reply; but Moses, Menu, Jesus, work
directly on this problem. The atmosphere of moral sentiment is a region
of grandeur which reduces all material magnificence to toys, yet opens
to every wretch that has reason, the doors of the universe. Almost
with a fierce haste it lays its empire on the man. In the language of
the Koran, "God said, the heaven and the earth, and all that is between
them, think ye that we created them in jest, and that ye shall not
return to us?" It is the kingdom of the will, and by inspiring the
will, which is the seat of personality, seems to convert the universe
into a person:--
"The realms of being to no other bow,
Not only all are thine, but all are Thou."
All men are commanded by the saint. The Koran makes a distinct class
of those who are by nature good, and whose goodness has an influence
on others, and pronounces this class to be the aim of creation: the
other classes are admitted to the feast of being, only as following
in the train of this. And the Persian poet exclaims to a soul of this
kind:
"Go boldly forth, and feast on being's banquet;
Thou art the called,--the rest admitted with thee."
The privilege of this caste is an access to the secrets and structure
of nature, by some higher method than by experience. In common parlance,
what one man is said to learn by experience, a man of extraordinary
sagacity is said, without experience, to divine. The Arabians say,
that Abul Khain, the mystic, and Abu Ali Seena, the Philosopher,
conferred together; and, on parting, the philosopher said, "All that
he sees, I know;" and the mystic said, "All that he knows, I see." If
one should ask the reason of this intuition, the solution would lead
us into that property which Plato denoted as Reminiscence, and which
is implied by the Bramins in the tenet of Transmigration. The soul
having been often born, or, as the Hindoos say, "traveling the path
of existence through thousands of births," having beheld the things
which are here, those which are in heaven, and those which are beneath,
there is nothing of which she has not gained the knowledge: no wonder
that she is able to recollect, in regard to any one thing, what formerly
she knew. "For, all things in nature being linked and related, and
the soul having heretofore known all, nothing hinders but that any man
who has recalled to mind, or, according to the common phrase, has
learned one thing only, should of himself recover all his ancient
knowledge, and find out again all the rest, if he have but courage,
and faint not in the midst of his researches. For inquiry and learning
is reminiscence all." How much more, if he that inquires be a holy and
godlike soul! For, by being assimilated to the original soul, by whom,
and after whom, all things subsist, the soul of man does then easily
flow into all things, and all things flow into it: they mix: and he
is present and sympathetic with their structure and law.
This path is difficult, secret, and beset with terror. The ancients
called it ecstasy or absence,--a getting out of their bodies to think.
All religious history contains traces of the trance of saints,--a
beatitude, but without any sign of joy, earnest, solitary, even sad;
"the flight," Plotinus called it, "of the alone to the alone." The
trances of Socrates, Plotinus, Porphyry, Behmen, Bunyan, Fox, Pascal,
Guion, Swedenborg, will readily come to mind. But what as readily comes
to mind, is the accompaniment of disease. This beatitude comes in
terror, and with shocks to the mind of the receiver. "It o'erinforms
the tenement of clay," and drives the man mad; or, gives a certain
violent bias, which taints his judgment. In the chief examples of
religious illumination, somewhat morbid, has mingled, in spite of the
unquestionable increase of mental power. Must the highest good drag
after it a quality which neutralizes and discredits it?--
"Indeed it takes
From our achievements, when performed at height,
The pith and marrow of our attribute."
Shall we say, that the economical mother disburses so much earth and
so much fire, by weight and metre, to make a man, and will not add a
pennyweight, though a nation is perishing for a leader? Therefore, the
men of God purchased their science by folly or pain. If you will have
pure carbon, carbuncle, or diamond, to make the brain transparent, the
trunk and organs shall be so much the grosser: instead of porcelain,
they are potter's earth, clay, or mud.
In modern times, no such remarkable example of this introverted mind
has occurred, as in Emanuel Swedenborg, born in Stockholm, in 1688.
This man, who appeared to his contemporaries a visionary, and elixir
of moonbeams, no doubt led the most real life of any man then in the
world: and now, when the royal and ducal Frederics, Cristierns, and
Brunswicks, of that day, have slid into oblivion, he begins to spread
himself into the minds of thousands. As happens in great men, he seemed,
by the variety and amount of his powers, to be a composition of several
persons,--like the giant fruits which are matured in gardens by the
union of four or five single blossoms. His frame is on a larger scale,
and possesses the advantage of size. As it is easier to see the
reflection of the great sphere in large globes, though defaced by some
crack or blemish, than in drops of water, so men of large calibre,
though with some eccentricity or madness, like Pascal or Newton, help
us more than balanced mediocre minds.
His youth and training could not fail to be extraordinary. Such a boy
could not whistle or dance, but goes grubbing into mines and mountains,
prying into chemistry and optics, physiology, mathematics, and
astronomy, to find images fit for the measure of his versatile and
capacious brain. He was a scholar from a child, and was educated at
Upsala. At the age of twenty-eight, he was made Assessor of the Board
of Mines, by Charles XII. In 1716, he left home for four years, and
visited the universities of England, Holland, France, and Germany. He
performed a notable feat of engineering in 1718, at the siege of
Fredericshall, by hauling two galleys, five boats, and a sloop, some
fourteen English miles overland, for the royal service. In 1721 he
journeyed over Europe, to examine mines and smelting works. He
published, in 1716, his Daedalus Hyperboreus, and, from this time, for
the next thirty years, was employed in the composition and publication
of his scientific works. With the like force, he threw himself into
theology. In 1743, when he was fifty-four years old, what is called
his illumination began. All his metallurgy, and transportation of ships
overland, was absorbed into this ecstasy. He ceased to publish any
more scientific books, withdrew from his practical labors, and devoted
himself to the writing and publication of his voluminous theological
works, which were printed at his own expense, or at that of the Duke
of Brunswick, or other prince, at Dresden, Liepsic, London, or
Amsterdam. Later, he resigned his office of Assessor: the salary
attached to this office continued to be paid to him during his life.
His duties had brought him into intimate acquaintance with King Charles
XII., by whom he was much consulted and honored. The like favor was
continued to him by his successor. At the Diet of 1751, Count Hopken
says, the most solid memorials on finance were from his pen. In Sweden,
he appears to have attracted a marked regard. His rare science and
practical skill, and the added fame of second sight and extraordinary
religious knowledge and gifts, drew to him queens, nobles, clergy,
shipmasters, and people about the ports through which he was wont to
pass in his many voyages. The clergy interfered a little with the
importation and publication of his religious works; but he seems to
have kept the friendship of men in power. He was never married. He had
great modesty and gentleness of bearing. His habits were simple; he
lived on bread, milk, and vegetables; and he lived in a house situated
in a large garden; he went several times to England, where he does not
seem to have attracted any attention whatever from the learned or the
eminent; and died at London, March 29, 1772, of apoplexy, in his
eighty-fifth year. He is described, when in London, as a man of quiet,
clerical habit, not averse to tea and coffee, and kind to children.
He wore a sword when in full velvet dress, and, whenever he walked
out, carried a gold-headed cane. There is a common portrait of him in
antique coat and wig, but the face has a wandering or vacant air.
The genius which was to penetrate the science of the age with a far
more subtle science; to pass the bounds of space and time; venture
into the dim spirit-realm, and attempt to establish a new religion in
the world,--began its lessons in quarries and forges, in the
smelting-pot and crucible, in ship-yards and dissecting-rooms. No one
man is perhaps able to judge of the merits of his works on so many
subjects. One is glad to learn that his books on mines and metals are
held in the highest esteem by those who understand these matters. It
seems that he anticipated much science of the nineteenth century;
anticipated, in astronomy, the discovery of the seventh planet,--but,
unhappily, not also of the eighth; anticipated the views of modern
astronomy in regard to the generation of earth by the sun; in magnetism,
some important experiments and conclusions of later students; in
chemistry, the atomic theory; in anatomy, the discoveries of
Schlichting, Monro, and Wilson; and first demonstrated the office of
the lungs. His excellent English editor magnanimously lays no stress
on his discoveries, since he was too great to care to be original; and
we are to judge, by what he can spare, of what remains.
A colossal soul, he lies vast abroad on his times, uncomprehended by
them, and requires a long local distance to be seen; suggest, as
Aristotle, Bacon, Selden, Humboldt, that a certain vastness of learning,
or _quasi_ omnipresence of the human soul in nature, is possible.
His superb speculations, as from a tower, over nature and arts, without
ever losing sight of the texture and sequence of things, almost realizes
his own picture, in the "Principia," of the original integrity of man.
Over and above the merit of his particular discoveries, is the capital
merit of his self-equality. A drop of water has the properties of the
sea, but cannot exhibit a storm. There is beauty of a concert, as well
as of a flute; strength of a host, as well as of a hero; and, in
Swedenborg, those who are best acquainted with modern books, will most
admire the merit of mass. One of the missouriums and mastodons of
literature, he is not to be measured by whole colleges of ordinary
scholars. His stalwart presence would flutter the gowns of an
university. Our books are false by being fragmentary; their sentences
are _bon mots_, and not parts of natural discourse; childish expressions
of surprise or pleasure in nature; or, worse, owing a brief notoriety to
their petulance, or aversion from the order of nature,--being some
curiosity or oddity, designedly not in harmony with nature, and
purposely framed to excite a surprise, as jugglers do by concealing
their means. But Swedenborg is systematic, and respective of the world
in every sentence; all the means are orderly given; his faculties work
with astronomic punctuality, and this admirable writing is pure from all
pertness or egotism.
Swedenborg was born into an atmosphere of great ideas. 'Tis hard to
say what was his own: yet his life was dignified by noblest pictures
of the universe. The robust Aristotelian method, with its breadth and
adequateness, shaming our sterile and linear logic by its genial
radiation, conversant with series and degree, with effects and ends,
skilful to discriminate power from form, essence from accident, and
opening by its terminology and definition, high roads into nature, had
trained a race of athletic philosophers. Harvey had shown the
circulation of the blood; Gilbert had shown that the earth was a magnet;
Descartes, taught by Gilbert's magnet, with its vortex, spiral, and
polarity, had filled Europe with the leading thought of vortical motion,
as the secret of nature. Newton, in the year in which Swedenborg was
born, published the "Principia," and established the universal gravity.
Malpighi, following the high doctrines of Hippocrates, Leucippus, and
Lucretius, had given emphasis to the dogma that nature works in
leasts,--"_tota in minimis existit natura_." Unrivalled dissectors,
Swammerdam, Leeuwenhoek, Winslow, Eustachius, Heister, Vesalius,
Boerhaave, had left nothing for scalpel or microscope to reveal in
human or comparative anatomy; Linnaeus, his contemporary, was affirming,
in his beautiful science, that "Nature is always like herself;" and,
lastly, the nobility of method, the largest application of principles,
had been exhibited by Leibnitz and Christian Wolff, in cosmology;
whilst Locke and Grotius had drawn the moral argument. What was left
for a genius of the largest calibre, but to go over their ground, and
verify and unite? It is easy to see, in these minds, the original of
Swedenborg's studies, and the suggestion of his problems. He had a
capacity to entertain and vivify these volumes of thought. Yet the
proximity of these geniuses, one or other of whom had introduced all
his leading ideas, makes Swedenborg another example of the difficulty,
even in a highly fertile genius, of proving originality, the first
birth and annunciation of one of the laws of nature.
He named his favorite views, the doctrine of Forms, the doctrine of
Series and Degrees, the doctrine of Influx, the doctrine of
Correspondence. His statement of these doctrines deserves to be studied
in his books. Not every man can read them, but they will reward him
who can. His theologic works are valuable to illustrate these. His
writings would be a sufficient library to a lonely and athletic student;
and the "Economy of the Animal Kingdom" is one of those books which,
by the sustained dignity of thinking, is an honor to the human race.
He had studied spars and metals to some purpose. His varied and solid
knowledge makes his style lustrous with points and shooting spicula
of thought, and resembling one of those winter mornings when the air
sparkles with crystals. The grandeur of the topics makes the grandeur
of the style. He was apt for cosmology, because of that native
perception of identity which made mere size of no account to him. In
the atom of magnetic iron, he saw the quality which would generate the
spiral motion of sun and planet.
The thoughts in which he lived were, the universality of each law in
nature; the Platonic doctrine of the scale or degrees; the version or
conversion of each into other, and so the correspondence of all the
parts; the fine secret that little explains large, and large, little;
the centrality of man in nature, and the connection that subsists
throughout all things: he saw that the human body was strictly
universal, or an instrument through which the soul feeds and is fed
by the whole of matter: so that he held, in exact antagonism to the
skeptics, that, "the wiser a man is, the more will he be a worshipper
of the Deity." In short, he was a believer in the Identity-philosophy,
which he held not idly, as the dreamers of Berlin or Boston, but which
he experimented with and established through years of labor, with the
heart and strength of the rudest Viking that his rough Sweden ever
sent to battle.