BOANERGES PHOSPHER, THE SPIRITUAL PROFESSOR.
He strikes no coin, ’tis true, but coins new phrases,
And vends them forth as knaves vend gilded counters,
Which wise men scorn, and fools accept in payment.
SHAKESPEARE.
None of these rogues and cowards, but Ajax is their fool!
_Idem._
That the world has dealt hardly by its heroes, is a truism we need
not insist upon at this late day. But whether the world knows who its
heroes are, is another question, and one more open to controversy. Now
I insist that the world does not know, or else Boanerges Phospher, the
Spiritual Professor, would long since have been stoned and persecuted
into one of the holy company of saints and martyrs!
There are several kinds of heroism heretofore known among men. There
is the fierce, aggressive heroism of the soldier and conqueror—there
is the “glib and oily” heroism of the politician—the calm, enduring
heroism of the saint—the lofty, death-defying heroism of the patriot;
but it remains for modern times to record the brazen heroism of
impudence. Impudence, too, has its grades and degrees—its ancient types
and its more modern ones—but as they all veil their brassy splendors,
merging their separate rays in the central effulgence of our spiritual
Colossus, we shall waive their particular enumeration in favor of the
individualised impersonation of them all.
Ah, verily—and this is he!—our Spiritual Professor! Born
in Yankee-land, of course, the earliest feat of Boanerges
Phospher—literally, according to his own account of it—was to pry up a
huge stone upon one of the sterile paternal acres: for what purpose,
would you suppose? To place his feet upon the soil beneath, because the
foot of no other man could have pressed it!
A laudable ambition, truly, but one which, somehow, unluckily, suggests
that
“Fools may walk where angels fear to tread!”
It was a necessary sequence to the career of this modern Columbus
of untrodden discovery, that we find his “first appearance upon any
stage” to have been, while so pitiably ignorant as to be barely able
to read his own language by spelling the words, and write his own name
execrably, as PROFESSOR OF ELOCUTION!
Admirable! admirable! Why make two bites of a cherry? Why not step at
once where no foot of _such_ man ever trod before?
Shade of Blair! Look ye not askance at this daring intruder upon your
classic company! He intends you no harm; he only means to re-fuse his
brass back into copper s!
In lecturing on Elocution, our _Professor_, of necessity, gradually
learned to read—with fluency, we mean—that is, he could “talk right
eout,” like the head boy in a class, though it was in a nasal
sing-song, more remarkable for its pietistic intonation than its
rhythm. This was, no doubt, in a great measure owing to the facility
of whining he had acquired, in his more juvenile experience, as a
preacher of some three or four different _liberal_ sects. We class
these as mere experiments, as purely preliminary trials of strength,
before he entered the true arena of his professorship.
The professorship, to be sure, was self-instituted—self-ordained—and
why not self-asserted? There were professors of hair-invigorating
oils, professors of dancing, professors of rat-catching, professors of
hair-eradication, professors of cough-candy, professors of commercial
book-keeping and running-hand writing, professors of flea-powder and
bug-extermination—and why not a professor of elocution? The very
gutter-mud germinates professors in this free country! They grow like
fungi out of wallowing reptiles’ heads; and who need be surprised, in
America, at receiving the card of his boot-black, inscribed Professor
Brush; his chimney-sweep, Professor Soot; or be appalled by the bloody
apparition of a missive from his butcher, emblazoned, “Professor
Keyser, Killer!”
No disrespect, mark you, is intended to be either understood or
implied, for the gentlemen of the various professions above enumerated,
for they are all respectable in their way, and to be respected, outside
of their professorships. But that is rather a serious name, as we
understand it—one that the world has been accustomed to look up to with
veneration—proportioned, until these “modern instances,” to the vast
and profound learning which had made it, in the old world, the synonyme
of almost patriarchal inspiration—the grand, firm, and stable bulwark
of human progress, and its lofty future; of infinite science, and its
clear, glorious myths!
This thing of learning seems so easy, that your starveling Yankee
perceives no difficulties in the way, and glides into its penetralia
“like a book,”—only that he never reads it! He is at once at home in
all topography, as much as if he were in Kamtschatka, or the “Tropic
Isles.” Furred cloaks or breadfruit leaves are all the same to him;
he was born knowing, and of course could not do less than know a
great deal more about Kamtschatka and the “Tropic Isles” than their
furred and fig-leaved denizens. Brass is the Yankee’s capital, and no
wonder they made the great discoveries of copper on Lake Superior,
so extensively patronised by New-light sages. It is the offset to
California gold; for, while one promises an infinite supply of the
substantial basis of commerce and all trade, the other promises to
furnish, in perpetuity, the crude material of impudence.
We mean no insinuation in regard to the Spiritual Professor, however
much he may have had to do, by “spherical influence,” in precipitating
the discovery of this great mine of the metal so much in favor with
the sages above mentioned—and the remainder of the sect to which the
Professor belonged—the motto of which is, that, “Out of the mouths of
babes and sucklings shall ye be confounded.” Yet we can freely venture
to assert, that he had no connection whatever with those unfortunate
commercial results, which, in the first place, nearly, if not entirely,
swamped the great Patron of the enterprise. The mind of our Professor
was necessarily not of that vast reach and generalising comprehension,
which could lead to the Behemoth stride and wizard calculation of
results, which had enabled his master thus confidently to speculate in
so subtle a material.
The operations of our Professor were essentially minified; that is,
their sphere and scope had been particularly narrow. He was heroic
enough, Heaven knows; but then his heroism was of that dashing
character which only required a patron to illustrate and make it known.
Having published a book upon this occult (in his hands) science of
elocution, which was, of course, written for him by another party, he
suddenly felt himself inspired with a new inspiration.
He had already taught men how to talk, and it now became necessary,
and indeed spiritually incumbent upon him, to teach them how to live.
He accordingly announced himself, forthwith, as Revelator-in-Chief of
the spiritual mysteries of the universe. Every reader will probably
remember those flaming programmes of lectures which appeared, by the
half column, in a New York paper, for a long period, daily, between
’43 and ’45. Mendacious impudence never vaulted higher! Our Spiritual
Professor was in his glory now.
An illustrious man lived once in Sweden. He was humble, pure and firm.
His astonishing works on scientific subjects left the mind of his
period far behind him, utterly confounded by his direct and stringent
elucidation of the most subtle of the purely physical laws. It seemed
a miracle to them; they found their professional accuracy so far
surpassed, that they durst not do more than wonder. Work after work
of this amazing intellect came forth, dressed in a language, while
handling such themes, common to the world of science.
Then came a sudden change, and this vast mind, which heretofore had
dealt in simple _demonstration_ with mankind, threw down its compass
and its squares, and, in the language of humility, proclaimed itself
a Medium. The God of Jacob and humanity had revealed himself to him,
not in the burning bush of mystery, but in the lustrous quiet of a
calm repose. He had talked scientific truth before, but now he spoke
of spiritual things—a chosen Medium between God and man! His theme was
far beyond all science. We have nothing to do with his wide postulate;
his name was too sublime and venerable among the patriarchs of mankind,
for me to speak of it otherwise in this connection, than in disgust
and loathing of the profanation to which it has been subjected, in our
country, by monkeyish and parrot-tongued ignoramuses.
Our learned and sagacious Professor of Elocution, happening to stumble
upon some of the earlier translations of the works of Swedenborg,
seized upon them with great avidity, and, as he had now learned to read
without spelling the words out loud, he managed to get them by heart
with most surprising facility, and, to the astonishment of Jew and
Gentile, suddenly proclaimed himself an apostle of the new church.
To be sure, when one considers this undertaking in the abstract, it
was rather a serious one; one indeed that would have appalled most
men, as the works of Swedenborg really consisted of some forty-odd
huge volumes, written in Latin, not a line of which the Professor
could translate; and the hand-books he had fallen upon were merely
translations of introductory compends. What though the field was
one of the most prodigious in human learning—what though the themes
were the highest that could occupy mortal contemplation—what though
the patient diligence of an ordinary lifetime would scarce suffice
intelligent persons for the studious comprehension of the truths taught
by this wonderful man? it was all the same to the Professor; and,
indeed, instead of being discouraged, he was rather encouraged, by the
magnitude of the undertaking! An exponent of Swedenborg! Well, why not?
He could spell words in three syllables!
Big with the prodigious discovery of his own capabilities and the new
mine of doctrinal science, the learned Professor rushed precipitately
into the ever-extended arms of his Patron saint, the nourisher and
cherisher of empirics and empiricism. And why should he not be so,
forsooth? It was _cheap_, not “too much learning,” that had made _him_
“mad” as well! _He_ too had found it to his account to scorn the
decencies of a thorough education, and from a printer’s devil, with
a mind that had fed upon scraps and paragraphs, had doggedly risen,
through the help of the familiar demon of labor, which possessed him,
into this position of Patron to all new-comers—provided they bore
“new-lights” and _coppers_!
It mattered little to this self-constituted and unscrupulous dignitary
whether the theme was new to the world, or only to himself; the latter
was most likely to be the case with one who had probably never read
a dozen books consecutively through in his life, and who, from gross
physique, dress, habits, and mental idiosyncrasies, was necessarily
incapacitated for comprehending the fine and subtle relations of truth;
who, even with the sovereign aid of the new-light Panacea, bran-bread,
had seemed to be capable of digesting but a fragment of truth at a
time, and that fragment, too, gobbled without the slightest regard for
its relations to other truths.
Here was a happy appreciation with a vengeance!—was it knave of fool,
or fool of knave—which? The question is interesting! At all events,
the results were the same, so far as the public were concerned. It
was forthwith announced that the Patron Saint, like some patient
and watchful astronomer, sweeping the blue abyss of heaven with
ever-constant glass, had suddenly discovered a new luminary—it
certainly had a fiery tail, but whether it was going to prove a genuine
comet or not, let the following announcement bear witness:
“Professor Boanerges Phospher lectures to-night in the Tabernacle,
which it is thought may possibly contain some small portion, at least,
of the enormous crowd which will of course assemble to hear his
profound and luminous exposition of the mysteries of the universe. The
doctrine of correspondences, as propounded by the learned Professor,
reveals the true solution of all problems which affect the relations
of mankind to the spiritual world. Indeed, his enormous research
and unappreciable profundity have at length enabled him to _solve
the problem of the universe_, which he, with the most luminous
demonstration, will educate even the infant mind to comprehend with
sufficient clearness, in five easy lessons, or lectures on every other
night, at one dollar each. The whole subject of man, in his eternal
relations to God, to the spiritual world, and to the earth, will be
mathematically expounded to the full comprehension of all.”
Here follows the programme:
“Professor Boanerges Phospher undertakes to show in the lecture of
to-night, That in the universe there are these three things: end,
cause, and effect; that infinite things in the infinite are one; that
they constitute a triune existence—they are three in one; that the
universe is a work cohering from firsts to lasts.
“That _Good_ is from a twofold origin, and thence adscititious. That
celestial good is good in essence, and spiritual good is good in form.
That the good of the inmost Heaven is called celestial; of the middle
Heaven, spiritual; and of the ultimate Heaven, spiritual, natural. That
good is called lord, and truth servant, before they are conjoined, but
afterwards they are called brethren. That he who is good is in the
faculty of seeing truth, which flows from general truths, and this in
a continual series. That good is actually spiritual fire, from which
spiritual heat, which makes alone, is derived.
“That all _Evil_ has its rise from the sensual principle, and also from
the scientific. There is an evil derived from the false, and a false
from evil.
“That gold sig. the good of love. When twice mentioned, sig. the good
of love, and the good of faith originating in love.
“That influx from the Lord is through the internal into the external.
Spiritual influx is founded on the nature of things, which is spirit
acting on matter.
“That physical influx, or natural, originates from the fallacy of the
senses that the body acts on spirit.
“That harmonious influx is founded on a false conclusion, viz.: that
the soul acts jointly and at the same instant with the body. That there
is a common influx; and this influx passes into the life of animals,
and also into the subjects of the vegetable kingdom. That influx passes
from the Lord to man through the forehead—for the forehead corresponds
to love, and the face to the interior of the mind.”
To be followed by questions in the correspondences by any of
the audience who may choose to ask them, such as, To what does
“horse” correspond?—To what does “table,” “chair,” or “soap-stone”
correspond?—To what does “hog,” “goose,” “butter-milk,” or “jackass”
correspond? &c., &c. To all of which questions the learned lecturer
will give edifying answers from the stand. Admittance, one
dollar—Children, half-price.
This is a long programme, to be sure, and somewhat overwhelming to
we common people, who have been in the habit of regarding certain
subjects with the profoundest veneration, and our modest and capable
teachers with reverence. But the very length of this programme, and
the enormous stretch of the themes, only go, I suppose, to illustrate
the hardihood of our “admirable Crichton,” the professor of the
occult—and the genial and the generous—to call it by its lightest
name—gullibility, of his gaping audience.
Forth went these flaming announcements day by day, on thousand
hot-pressed sheets, until New York became all agog, and the great mass
conceived that they had found a new prophet. All its spectacled and
thin-bearded women forthwith were in arms; the Professor wore his hair
behind his ears, and, of course, was the soft and honey-sucking seraph
of their dreams.
He could be indeed nothing short of seraphim-revealed, for he
discoursed with them in winning tones of mists and mysteries. He
told them bald tales of angels with whom he had been on terms of
intimacy; for he sagaciously kept his master, Swedenborg, mainly in the
background throughout.
Representing himself as the individual recipient of these revelations,
from the spherical ladies who wear wings, and who are habitually
designated as angels by both the sexes, on our little clod of earth,
our champion became, of course, the hero of all such semi-whiskered
maidens or matrons, who, though essentially “pard-like spirits,” were
yet, to reverse the words of Shelley, more “swift,” alias “fast,”
than “beautiful!” It is, of course, to be comprehended that beauty
is comparative as well as wit, and we would no more be understood
as insinuating that these thinly-hirsute virgins and dames, who at
once constituted the principal audience of the mighty Professor, were
themselves in any degree deficient in sympathy either with the man and
his profound doctrines, or the man _per se_, than that we would assert
they understood one word of what he mouthed to them, with his hair
behind his ears.
Boanerges Phospher, the Spiritual Professor, was successful, and never
was there anything so professionally brilliant as the crowded houses
that he nightly drew. The immense Tabernacle seemed a mere nut-shell;
he could have filled half-a-dozen such houses nightly. The mob had
grown excited by the novelty. The paper of the Patron Saint, at so many
pennies a line, day by day, continued to prostitute its columns to this
vulgar trap of silly servant-maids and profound clerks.
The Professor’s lectures were attended by countless swarms of inquirers
after truth, who, as they were willing to accept a spoken for a written
language of which they knew nothing, permitted him to stumble through
propositions, which, in themselves, were so ridiculously absurd as
even to disarm contempt in the wise, and make denunciation harmless as
superfluous.