Anecdotes.
The trite observation that the lives of literary men are devoid of those incidents which make up a stirring and lively biography, applies with great truth to the career of Swedenborg. His quiet and unostentatious life afforded but few materials for anecdotes; hence we have but faint traces of his outward course. While writing the works we have just noticed, from 1747 to 1758, the principal portion of his time must have been passed in London. Few men in those days were capable of sympathy or communion with the elevated and spiritualized mind of Swedenborg. Yet though living as it were alone, he could not have been melancholy or desolate. Under the care and guidance of the Lord, favored with the company and converse of angels, and enjoying the consciousness of fulfilling high and holy duties, he had every reason to be the cheerful and contented man that contemporary testimony represents him. His evenings he used often to spend with his printer, Mr. Hart, of Poppin’s court, Fleet street. Mrs. Lewis, his publisher’s wife, knew him, and “thought him a good and sensible man, but too apt to spiritualize things.” Beyond a few particulars such as these, we know nothing of his private life.
On the 19th of July, 1759, we find Swedenborg at Gottenburg. Here occurred the following circumstance, of which Immanuel Kant, the celebrated transcendentalist, is the narrator.
“On Saturday, at 4 o’clock, P. M.,” says Kant, “when Swedenborg arrived at Gottenburg from England, Mr. William Castel invited him to his house, together with a party of fifteen persons. About 6 o’clock, Swedenborg went out, and after a short interval returned to the company, quite pale and alarmed. He stated that a dangerous fire had just broken out in Stockholm, at Sundermalm, (distant three hundred miles from Gottenburg,) and that it was spreading very fast. He was restless, and went out often. He said that the house of one of his friends, whom he named, was already in ashes, and that his own was in danger. At 8 o’clock, after he had been out again, he joyfully exclaimed: ‘Thank God! the fire is extinguished the third door from my house.’ This news occasioned great commotion among the company. It was announced to the governor the same evening. The next morning, Swedenborg was sent for by the governor, who questioned him concerning the disaster. Swedenborg described the fire precisely, how it had begun, in what manner it had ceased, and how long it had continued. On the same day the news was spread through the city; and as the governor had thought it worthy of attention, the consternation was considerably increased, as many were in trouble on account of their friends and property, which might have been involved in the disaster. On Monday evening, a messenger arrived at Gottenburg, who was despatched during the time of the fire. In the letters brought by him, the fire was described precisely in the manner stated by Swedenborg. On Tuesday morning, a royal courier arrived at the governor’s with the melancholy intelligence of the fire, of the loss it had occasioned, and of the houses damaged and ruined, not in the least differing from that which Swedenborg had given the moment it had ceased: the fire had been extinguished at 8 o’clock.
“What,” continues Kant, “can be brought forward against the authenticity of this occurrence? My friend who wrote this to me, has not only examined the circumstances of this extraordinary case at Stockholm, but also, about two months ago, at Gottenburg, where he is acquainted with the most respectable houses, and where he could obtain the most authentic and complete information, as the greatest part of the inhabitants, who are still alive, were witnesses to the memorable occurrence.”
This narrative is taken from a letter written by Kant, in 1768, to Charlotte de Knobloch, a lady of quality. Kant, it may be remarked, was no adherent of Swedenborg’s. Two years before writing this letter, he had attacked him in a small work entitled, “Dreams of the Great Seer Illustrated by Dreams of Metaphysics.” Received from such a source, we can entertain no doubt as to the truth of the story.
At home, in Stockholm, Swedenborg did not fail to excite much curiosity and attention, and his conduct and deportment were carefully watched. It was observed that he seldom went to church, or received the sacrament. This was owing partly to the contrariety of the Lutheran doctrine to his own views, and partly, Robsahm says, to the disease of the stone, which troubled him. In 1760, two bishops, his relations, remonstrated with him in a friendly manner upon his remissness. He answered, that, religious observances were not so necessary for him as for others, as he was associated with angels. They then represented that his example would be valuable, by which argument he suffered himself to be persuaded. A few days previously to receiving the sacrament, he asked his old domestics to whom he should resort for the purpose, for “he was not much acquainted with the different preachers.” The elder chaplain was mentioned. Swedenborg objected that “he was a passionate man and a fiery zealot, and that he had heard him thundering from the pulpit with little satisfaction.” The assistant chaplain was then proposed, who was not so popular with the congregation. Swedenborg said, “I prefer him to the other, for I hear that he speaks what he thinks, and by this means has lost the good-will of his people, as generally happens in this world.” Accordingly he took the sacrament from this curate.
“In general,” says Robsahm, “Swedenborg would not enter into dispute on matters of religion. If he was necessitated to defend himself, he did it with mildness and in a few words; but if any one would not be convinced, and became warm in argument, he retired, saying, ‘Read my writings attentively and without prejudice; they will answer you in my stead, and will afford you reason to change your ideas and opinions on such things.’
“He used, at first, freely to speak of his visions and spiritual explications of the Scriptures; but as this displeased the clergy, who proclaimed him a heretic and madman, he resolved to be less communicative of his knowledge in company, or, at least, more cautious, lest the censorious should have room to blame what they could not comprehend like himself. I once,” says Robsahm, “addressed the rector of the parish where he lived, an old and respected clergyman, asking him what he thought of Swedenborg’s visions and explanations of the Bible. The venerable man answered: ‘God alone can judge of this; but I can not think him to be such a person as many do; I have myself conversed with him, and in company where we have been together, and I have found him to be a good and a holy man.’
“It was remarkable that Swedenborg never endeavored to persuade any person to receive his opinions. He was in nowise led by that self-love which is observable in those who publish new opinions concerning church doctrines; neither did he seek to make many proselytes, not even communicating his thoughts and sentiments, except to those whom he thought virtuous, disposed to hear them with moderation, capable of comprehending them, and lovers of truth.
“It is a very singular circumstance,” continues Robsahm, “that all who have read the writings of Swedenborg, with a desire to refute them, have finished the attempt by adhering to his sentiments.” This assertion must be received, however, with qualification.
Though busied with the composition of his works, and immersed in spiritual contemplations, Swedenborg was not forgetful of the world and of his duties to his country. In 1761 he took part in the Swedish Diet or Parliament. Three of his memorials or addresses to the Diet, are preserved. In the first of these he congratulates the House upon its meetings, and counsels the redress of all grievances which cause disaffection. In the second he advocates an alliance with France instead of England from prudential motives, at the same time strongly protesting against the evil of despotic governments, and the danger to liberty in the extension of the Roman Catholic faith. The third memorial is on the subject of finance. Count Hopken, the Swedish prime minister at that time, leaves on record that “the most solid memorials, and the best penned, at the Diet of 1761, on matters of finance, were presented by Swedenborg; in one of which he refuted a large work in 4to on the same subject, quoted the corresponding passages of it, and all in less than one sheet.” He was likewise a member of the secret committee of the Diet, an office to which only the most sage and virtuous were elected. Consider, reader, for a moment, the dignity, the wisdom, and the abounding common sense which must have permeated the whole being of Swedenborg, to enable him to live down the obloquy attached to the name of a “ghost-seer,” and be received with high favor and acceptance by men of the world, sceptical and sensual!
Soon afterwards Swedenborg left Stockholm; and we find him in July, 1762, at Amsterdam. Jung Stilling received from a friend the following interesting anecdote respecting him at this time. “I was in Amsterdam,” says he, “in 1762, in a company in which Swedenborg was present, on the very day that Peter III., Emperor of Russia, died. In the midst of our conversation his countenance changed, and it was evident that his soul was no longer there, and that something extraordinary was passing in him. As soon as he came to himself again, he was asked what had happened to him. He would not at first communicate it; but at length, after having been repeatedly pressed, he said: ‘This very hour, the Emperor Peter III. has died in his prison,’ mentioning at the same time the manner of his death. ‘Gentlemen will please to note down the day, that they may be able to compare it with the intelligence of his death in the newspapers.’ The newspapers subsequently announced the Emperor’s death as having taken place on that day.”