in short, be master of his own soul. Paracelsus declined to follow any
leader, but formed his own conclusions from his own experience. For him
the _Codex Naturæ_ was a system which led straight to exact knowledge,
and he rejected whatever could not be verified by research. He laid the
foundations of a new system, built on evidence rather than on the
outworn traditions of the medicine of his day. This system comprised
within itself at once a practical guide to the medical art and a
spiritual philosophy of life. The fatal error of divorcing the physical
from the spiritual, and treating the physical as a thing apart, which
has rendered abortive so much of the medical research of recent
generations, would undoubtedly have been obviated, had the modern
exponent of the medical art realised that in Paracelsus was to be found
a pioneer who brought the life-giving genius of his intellect to bear on
old truths in their relation to modern problems, rather than a quack and
mountebank who deluded his contemporaries—none so easy a task—into the
idea that he had accomplished marvellous cures where the medical faculty
of his day could show nothing but a record of failures.
V
EMANUEL SWEDENBORG
Of all the men and women whom the world has classed under the general
title of “mystic,” not one certainly occupies so singular a position as
Emanuel Swedenborg. If we decide to accept the world’s verdict—and it
seems difficult to do otherwise—and agree to call Swedenborg a mystic,
we are confronted by the fact that we can find no parallel either to his
personality or to his career, though we search the roll of the mystics
of all the ages. Pascal indeed was, like Swedenborg, a master
mathematician, and a man of wide general learning, but he was a mystic
first and foremost, and his life from an early date was given up to his
calling as a leading light of the Catholic Church. Swedenborg, on the
other hand, was, until the age of fifty, a man of science and a man of
affairs; that is, he was a scientist of the most eminently practical
kind, one whose encyclopædic knowledge was turned always into
utilitarian channels, and for whom knowledge of any kind appeared to
have no meaning outside its practical application. It would be difficult
to instance a single one of the world’s great men whose interests were
so wide, or whose mental activity was so all-absorbing. Outside art
there seemed literally nothing that did not appeal to him as a field for
his indefatigable investigation, and, as regards art, it was presumably
its lack of utilitarian value which led to its neglect by his
essentially practical mentality.
[Illustration: Emanuel Swedenborg.]
Swedenborg started his travels in the first years of early manhood, and
wherever they took him there was nothing which escaped his observant
eye. To whatever part of Europe he went it would seem that he could not
be satisfied without learning all that was to be learnt, without seeing
all that was to be seen. When he establishes himself in London he does
not merely take lodgings because the price is reasonable or because the
cooking is good, or because he thinks he will be comfortable. He writes
from London in 1711: “I turn my lodgings to some use, and change them
often. At first I was at a watchmaker’s, and now I am at a mathematical
instrument maker’s. From them I steal their trades, which some day will
be of use to me.” At Leyden he learnt to grind glass for lenses, so that
he might furnish himself with appliances which he could not afford to
buy. His brother wishes for globes for the university at Upsala. These
proved too expensive, and he was asked to purchase printed maps which
might be mounted in Sweden. The makers would not supply these, so
Swedenborg applied himself to learning engraving, and prepared them
himself. When chafing at enforced inactivity at home he turns his
attention to music, and writes to his brother-in-law that he has been
able several times to take the place of the organist. In travelling on
the Continent he studies the fortifications of the towns, the methods of
constructing fences. He visits and investigates all the manufactories.
He passes critical remarks with regard to the blast furnaces, the
vitriol, arsenic, and sulphur works, the copper and tin manufactories,
the paper mills, and studies also the methods of mining. Not content
with this, he investigates the social conditions of the people,
criticises the situation of affairs in France, the wealth of the Church
and the poverty of the people. “Everywhere,” he says, “the convents,
churches, and monks are the wealthiest and possess most land. The monks
are fat, puffed up, and prosperous. A whole proud army might be formed
of them without their being missed.” Again: “The houses are miserable,
the convents magnificent, the people poor and wretched.” He investigates
the problem of the revenue of the French Government, obtained by the
system of taxation called tithing. “It amounts,” he says, “to some
thirty-two million livres, and Paris, on account of its rents,
contributes nearly two-thirds of the sum.” “I am told,” he says, “that
the ecclesiastical order possesses one-fifth of all the property in the
State, and that the country will be ruined if this goes on much
longer.”[10] He gives the number of convents in France, actually at that
date between fourteen and fifteen thousand; the number of the members of
the religious orders; the number of the abbesses, prioresses, chapters,
etc. He goes to hear the celebrated preachers, among them the King’s
chaplain, who “gesticulates like an actor.” He discusses the adoration
of saints with an abbé. He visits the hospitals and attends the opening
of Parliament. Not content with this, he frequents the opera and the
theatres, and passes opinions upon the most popular pieces and the most
distinguished actors and actresses. In the midst of all this we find him
speculating on the form of the particles of the atmosphere, and writing
an introductory essay to a book which he is planning to prove that “the
soul of wisdom is the knowledge and acknowledgment of the Supreme
Being.” As if this were not enough, he occupies his spare moments in the
study of anatomy, astronomy, magnetism, and hydrostatics.
Surely, since the world began, there was never a more versatile brain!
He has even observations to make on military matters. He goes to see the
Brandenburg soldiers, Frederick the Great’s famous regiment. “The men,”
he says, “are tall and slender and they march erectly. They go through
their drills with the greatest promptness and regularity, but their
manner is a little theatrical. The whole squadron is like a machine
placed there, moving instantaneously at the pleasure of the machinist.”
“If,” he says, “they displayed the same uniformity in battle as in
drill, they would conquer Alexander’s army, and subject a great part of
Europe to Prussia, but——” He leaves it to the reader to fill in the
reason of his doubt.
Others besides Swedenborg have possessed that encyclopædic type of brain
which amasses vast stores of miscellaneous knowledge, but few, if any,
have possessed at the same time Swedenborg’s extraordinary capacity for
utilising the knowledge gained and turning it to practical account. The
idea of learning as an object in itself was indeed entirely alien to
Swedenborg’s type of mentality. All information acquired was merely
regarded as a means towards some practical end. We thus find him
founding universal principles upon the knowledge he has accumulated in
explanation of the laws which govern phenomena. We see him, for example,
deducing his conclusions in the field of geology from a number of
observed facts. He reports on the geological conformation of Sweden, and
concludes from it that the country was at one time swept over by a sea
in a state of great commotion. He notices the fact that the stones on
the mountain sides are worn off and rounded, in support of this. He also
describes the remnants of a wrecked ship excavated far inland, and the
skeleton of a whale which was discovered in West Gothland. “Swedenborg’s
contributions in the field of geology,” says Professor A. G. Nathorst,
“are of such significance and value that they alone would have been
sufficient to have secured him an honoured scientific name.” As a mining
expert he was unequalled. “We should never be able to finish,” says
Professor Schleiden, “if we attempted to enumerate all the improvements
which Swedenborg introduced in the working of the mines in his own
country.” “The metallurgical works of this remarkable man,” says Dr
Percy, “seem to be very imperfectly known, and yet none are in my
judgment more worthy of the attention of those interested in the history
of metallurgy.” The air-tight stove which he describes in his work on
_New Observations and Discoveries Respecting Iron and Fire_, published
in 1721, is stated to be identical in principle with one recently
patented in Washington.[11] Sir Isaac Newton had propounded the
corpuscular theory of light, which was for long universally held.
Swedenborg dissented, stating, in his _Principia_, that “motion diffused
from a given centre through a contiguous medium or volume of particles
of ether produced light.” This theory is the one now adopted. Swedenborg
also notices that light and electricity are produced by the same
efficient cause, thereby supplying the clue to the utilisation of
electricity as a means of lighting. Even where in the field of science
he was looked upon as a dreamer in his own days, his dreams have since
taken practical shape. Among the inventions which he projected was “the
plan of a certain ship which with its men was to go under the surface of
the sea wherever it chooses, and do great damage to the fleet of the
enemy.” He also designed a flying machine, a project which he was very
reluctant to drop. Christopher Polhem, however, threw cold water on
this, saying, with respect to flying by artificial means, “there is
perhaps the same difficulty as in making a _perpetuum mobile_, or gold
by artificial means.”
His philosophy recognises the synthetical as well as the analytical
method as requisite to arrive at true conclusions. “Both,” he says, “are
necessary in reflecting upon and tracing out one and the same thing; for
in order to do so there is required both light, _a priori_, and
experience, _a posteriori_.” “He who is possessed of scientific
knowledge,” he says elsewhere, “and is merely skilled in experiment, had
taken only the first steps in wisdom. For such a person is only
acquainted with what is posterior, and is ignorant of what is prior.
Thus his wisdom does not extend beyond the working of the senses and is
unconnected with reason; whereas, nevertheless, true wisdom embraces
both.”
Unquestionably Swedenborg, as he is known to us from the record of the
first fifty years of his life (if we except the earliest years of his
childhood), was about the last person one would expect to have his name
associated with that Swedenborgian gospel by which eventually it came to
be known to the world at large. He had, as we have seen, earned many
titles to recognition, but assuredly that of a medium of communication
between this world and the world of spirits was not one of them.
Swedenborg’s father was a Swedish Lutheran Bishop with leanings towards
pietism, and a rather broader and more sympathetic outlook than the
majority of his fellow clergy. His name, Swedborg, was subsequently
changed to Swedenborg when the family was ennobled by the Swedish king.
Emanuel was the second son and third child of Bishop Swedborg and his
wife, Anna, of whom we know but little, and who died when Emanuel was
only eight years old. The child was thus surrounded by religious
influences in his early days, and it is said that his father had a
guardian angel with whom he claimed to be able to hold converse on
occasion. Reared under these conditions, he naturally enough evinced
strongly religious tendencies in his childhood. “From my fourth to my
tenth year,” he says, “I was constantly engaged in thought upon God,
salvation, and the spiritual experiences of men. I revealed things at
which my father and mother wondered, saying that angels must be speaking
through me.” Here at least we obtain some suggestion of what he
eventually became, and of which the intervening years between childhood
and middle age seem to afford us little or no hint. The believer in
heredity will point to the psychic temperament of the father as
inherited by the son; but there appears to be no foreshadowing in his
ancestry of that encyclopædic mind with which he was destined to
astonish his contemporaries. His father evidently failed to understand
his precocious son, and the relations between the two were far from
cordial, the son considering that his father was inappreciative and
failed to encourage his intellectual activities, and also blaming him
for meanness in matters of finance. Bishop Swedborg had, however, eight
other children besides Emanuel, and very probably he did not find it
easy to make two ends meet, especially as he was something of an author
himself, and published books at his own expense, which proved far from
remunerative. Probably the father considered that the son ought to
settle down to some regular trade or profession instead of commencing
life by travelling in search of knowledge first to one country and then
to another. Presumably he regarded his precocious offspring as likely to
become a jack-of-all-trades and master of none, and there are doubtless
many other parents who, under similar circumstances, would have thought
the same. In any case the son was able to start off on his travels in
spite of financial embarrassments and many dangers on the way. He was
nearly wrecked when approaching England. Then the ship was boarded by
pirates, and on the top of this was fired into by a British guardship,
being mistaken for the pirate craft. Finally, our youthful hero narrowly
escaped hanging for breaking the quarantine regulations, the plague at
this time being prevalent in Sweden. Under somewhat similar
circumstances the great Julius told the captain of his vessel not to be
afraid, as he was carrying Cæsar. Whether Swedenborg had any such faith
in a Providence watching over his future destiny, we are not told. He
certainly realised his unique powers, but can hardly have suspected the
channel into which they were eventually to be diverted.
The one link between Emanuel and his family was his brother-in-law, Eric
Benzelius, afterwards bishop, and the sister to whom he was married. In
his financial and other troubles he repeatedly appeals to him for
sympathy and practical help, evidently not without response. He also
asks for intercession with his father, to whom he obviously did not care
to appeal direct, having met with too many rebuffs. It is interesting to
note that one of the first objects that met his eyes in London was “the
magnificent St Paul’s Cathedral, finished a few days ago, in all its
parts.” He makes the acquaintance of Flamsteed, the most notable
astronomer in England, who was concerned in the founding of Greenwich
Observatory and seems to have been something of an astrologer as well.
Apparently as the result of this visit, he takes up with enthusiasm the
study of astronomy.
I have made such progress in it [he says], as to have discovered
much which I think will be useful in its study. Although in the
beginning it made my brain ache, yet long speculations are no longer
difficult for me. I examined closely all proportions for finding the
terrestrial longitude, but could not find a single one. I have,
therefore, originated a method by means of the Moon, which is
unerring, and I am certain that it is the best which has yet been
advanced. In a short time I will inform the Royal Society that I
have a proposition to make on this subject, stating my points.... I
have also discovered many new methods for observing the planets, the
Moon, and the stars. That which concerns the Moon and its parallax,
diameter, and inequality I will publish whenever an opportunity
arises.
He longs to go to Oxford, and investigate the Bodleian Library, but
cannot, for want of money. “I wonder,” he says, “my father does not show
greater care for me than to let me live now for more than sixteen months
upon 250 rixdalers (something under £50).” Finally, he returns home and
obtains an appointment as Assessor-extraordinary at the State Department
of the Board of Mines, which was responsible for the supervision of the
great mining industries of Sweden. In this connection he is fortunate in
making the acquaintance of Christopher Polhem, the celebrated engineer,
who recommends him for his talents and readiness of resource. By degrees
he becomes an intimate guest with Polhem’s family, a circumstance which
leads in the end to a tragic love affair. He falls desperately in love
with Polhem’s younger daughter. The father gives his consent; but the
girl, a mere child of thirteen or fourteen, cannot reconcile herself to
the idea. Swedenborg, with great sorrow, relinquishes his claim,
resolving never again to let his thoughts settle upon any woman. Polhem
himself seems to have been almost equally distressed with Swedenborg
over the incident, especially as it led to a breach between himself and
the young man, whom he had come to regard in the light of his own son. A
period of depression follows, which is accentuated by the death of
Charles XII. of Sweden, about the same period, from whose encouragement
and support Emanuel had considerable expectations. The relations between
himself and the King were, indeed, singularly intimate, Charles readily
appreciating the young man’s remarkable talents and mathematical
knowledge. “Every day,” says Swedenborg, in writing on 14th September
1718, “I had some mathematical matters for his Majesty, who deigned to
be pleased with all of them. When the eclipse took place, I took his
Majesty out to see it, and talked much to him about it. This, however,
is a mere beginning.”
In the summer of 1721, Swedenborg started again on his travels, his
object this time being to study the mines and manufactories of other
countries, so that he might be in a position to render greater services
to his own in the office to which he had been appointed. On this
occasion he visited all the mines in Saxony and the Hartz mountains, and
was royally entertained by Duke Ludvic Rudolf of Brunswick-Lüneburg, who
showed him a generosity which he doubtless appreciated after his
father’s parsimony. Meanwhile his pen was by no means idle. He published
a treatise at Amsterdam on Chemistry and Physics; some observations on
Iron and Fire; and a work on the construction of Docks and Dykes; and
later on, at Leipzig, some miscellaneous observations on Geology and
Mineralogy. On his return home he settled down again for a period to his
work at the Board of Mines, in the meantime gathering matter for further
publications which followed in due course. The most important of these
were his _Opera Philosophia Mineralia_, and a treatise on _The
Infinite_. The former work met with a very favourable reception, and
between one publication and another Swedenborg soon won for himself a
European reputation. The Academy of Sciences at St Petersburg nominated
him a corresponding member, while he was one of the first to be elected
for the newly established Royal Academy of Sciences in his own country.
Everything thus seemed to open out for Swedenborg a career of great
scientific and practical utility. He became, however, gradually led by
his philosophical speculations to an investigation of the nature of the
soul and its operation in the body, and the mutual relations of the two.
This study was the subject of two important works, entitled respectively
_The Economy of the Animal Kingdom considered Anatomically and
Philosophically_, and _The Animal Kingdom considered Anatomically,
Physically, and Philosophically_. By the “animal kingdom” must be
understood the kingdom presided over by the soul. In the first of these
books Swedenborg deals with the composition of the blood and its
circulation, with the heart, arteries, and veins, and with the brain and
its cortices. In this book Swedenborg attaches “great importance to the
blood, for, as he says, nothing exists in the body that has not
previously existed in the blood.” He describes it again as “a vital and
most spirituous fluid, which has an immediate connection with the soul.”
In the _Animal Kingdom_ Swedenborg describes in full detail all the
organs of the body and their uses, the object being in the end to track
the soul home and to describe its activities. “For as yet,” he tells us,
“her modes of being and her nature are absolutely unknown.” Naturally he
recognises that this will be regarded by the philosophers of his day as
a vain and useless quest. But he is prepared to meet their objections
with the following pertinent remarks, which, now that the materialistic
hypothesis has been finally discarded by the advance guard of modern
Science, are likely to find a sympathetic echo in scientific as well as
philosophic circles.
Inasmuch [he says] as the soul is the model, the idea, the first
form, the substance, the force, and the principle of her organic
body, and of all its forces and powers, or what amounts to the same
thing, as the organic body is the image and type of its soul
conformed and principled to the whole nature of the soul’s
efficiency, it follows that the one is represented in the other....
Thus by the body we are instructed respecting the soul, by the soul
respecting the body, and by both respecting the truth of the whole.
Emerson describes the _Animal Kingdom_ as “an anatomist’s account of the
human body in the highest style of poetry,” and its object as to “put
science and the soul, long estranged from each other, at one again.” It
was while continuing his pursuit of this apparently visionary aim that
Swedenborg quite unexpectedly found himself, as he believed, in touch
with another than the physical world. In writing of this extraordinary
development in his life history in the Introduction to the _Arcana
Cœlestia_, the first volume of which appeared in 1749, he gives his own
account of his relationship with the spiritual realm in justification of
the remarkably dogmatic statements contained in the book in question.
“It is,” he says, “expedient here to premise that of the Lord’s
divine mercy it has been granted me now for several years to be
constantly and uninterruptedly in company with spirits and angels,
hearing them converse with each other and conversing with them.
Hence it has been permitted me to hear and see things in another
life which are astonishing, and which have never before come to the
knowledge of any man nor entered into his imagination. I have thus
been instructed concerning different kinds of spirits and the state
of souls after death—concerning Hell, or the lamentable state of the
unfaithful—concerning Heaven, or the most happy state of the
faithful—and particularly concerning the doctrine of Faith, which is
acknowledged throughout all Heaven, on which subjects, by the divine
mercy of the Lord, more will be said in the following pages.” With
regard to the extraordinary transformation which these experiences
brought about in his life’s work, he explains to a friend that the
Lord has elected him for this work, and “for revealing the spiritual
meaning of the Sacred Scriptures which he had promised to the
Prophets and in the Book of Revelation.” “My purpose previously,” he
adds, “had been to explore Nature, chemistry, and the sciences of
mining and anatomy.”
The basis of Swedenborg’s teaching which, of course, under the
circumstances he did not claim in any way as original, was that the
Bible must be accepted absolutely as a divinely inspired book, but must
be taken in an allegorical sense. Thus where historical events are
recorded they are not recorded for the sake of history, for the object
of the Scriptures is to treat not of the kingdoms of the earth, but of
the Kingdom of God. In other parts of the Bible, as in Genesis, there is
no truth in the story from the historical point of view. The record is
merely an allegory of the soul.
His doctrine of Correspondences was merely the recognition of this
allegorical relationship of the spiritual and material. The universe,
according to Swedenborg, is symbolical throughout, All material things
are derived from their spiritual archetypes, and are representations of
these. The bodily form represents the spiritual character, for the
spirit forms the body in its own likeness. A man’s acts are thus the
outcome of his inward nature, and there is consequently a similar
correspondence between them and the inward man. The basis of these ideas
is, of course, the ancient occult teaching that the universe is the
macrocosm, and man the microcosm. Thus Swedenborg tells us that as there
is a material sun, moon, and stars, so each of these heavenly bodies has
its mental and spiritual counterpart.