Chapter VI

_Men._ I pray thee tell me,
For thou art a great dreamer—

_Chi._ I can dream, sir,
If I eat well and sleep well.

_Men._ Was it never by dream or apparition opened to thee—
What the other world was, or Elysium?
Didst never travel in thy sleep?

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER: _The Mad Lover_.

WILLOUGHBY’S ESSAY—FOURTH EVENING.

§ 4. _Jacob Behmen and his Aurora._

Let us now crave acquaintance with that most notable theosophist,
Jacob Behmen.

It is evening, and in the little town of Görlitz the business of the
day is over. The shopkeepers are chatting together before their
doors, or drinking their beer at tables set out in the open air; and
comfortable citizens are taking wife and children for a walk beyond
the town. There is a shoe-maker’s shop standing close to the bridge,
and under its projecting gable, among the signs and samples of the
craft, may be read the name of Jacob Boehme. Within this house, in a
small and scantily-furnished room, three men are seated at a table
whereon lie a few books and papers and a great heap of
newly-gathered plants and wild-flowers. The three friends have just
returned from a long ramble in the fields which lie without the
Neissethor. That little man, apparently about forty years of age, of
withered, almost mean, aspect, with low forehead, prominent temples,
hooked nose, short and scanty beard, and quick blue eyes, who talks
with a thin, gentle voice, is Jacob.[228] On one side of him sits
Dr. Kober, a medical man of high repute in Görlitz. He it is who
gathered in their walk these flowers, and now he takes up one of
them from time to time, and asks Behmen to conjecture, from its form
and colour, its peculiar properties. Often has he to exchange looks
of wonder with his learned friend on the other side the table, at
the marvellous insight of their uneducated host. This third member
of the trio is Dr. Balthasar Walter, the Director of the Laboratory
at Dresden, a distinguished chemist, who has travelled six years in
the East, has mastered all the scientific wisdom of the West, and
who now believes that his long search after the true philosophy has
ended happily at last, beneath the roof of the Görlitz shoemaker.
He, too, will sometimes pronounce a Greek or an Oriental word, and
is surprised to find how nearly Behmen divines its significance,
from the mere sound and the movement of the lips in the formation of
its syllables.[229] When Walter utters the word _Idea_, Behmen
springs up in a transport, and declares that the sound presented to
him the image of a heavenly virgin of surpassing beauty. The
conversation wanders on—about some theosophic question, it may be,
or the anxious times, or the spread of Behmen’s writings through
Silesia and Saxony, with the persecutions or the praises following;
while good Frau Behmen, after putting a youngster or two to bed, is
busy downstairs in the kitchen, preparing a frugal supper.

Jacob Behmen was born at the village of Alt-Seidenberg, near
Görlitz, in the year 1575. As a child, he was grave and thoughtful
beyond his years. The wonders of fairy tradition were said to have
become objects of immediate vision to the boy, as were the mysteries
of religion, in after years, to the man. Among the weather-stained
boulders of a haunted hill, the young herd-boy discovered the golden
hoard of the mountain folk—fled in terror, and could never again
find out the spot.[230]

While not yet twenty, Behmen saw life as a travelling apprentice.
The tender conscience and the pensive temperament of the village
youth shrank from the dissolute and riotous companionship of his
fellow-craftsmen. Like George Fox, whom at this period he strongly
resembled, he found the Church scarcely more competent than the
world to furnish the balm which should soothe a spirit at once
excited and despondent. Among the clergy, the shameful servility of
some, the immoral life of others, the bigotry of almost all,
repelled him on every hand. The pulpit was the whipping-post of
imaginary Papists and Calvinists. The churches were the fortified
places in the seat of war. They were spiritually what ours were
literally in King Stephen’s days, when the mangonel and the
cross-bow bolts stood ready on the battlemented tower, when military
stores were piled in the crypt, and a moat ran through the
churchyard. The _Augsburg Confession_ and the _Formula Concordiæ_
were appealed to as though of inspired authority. The names of
Luther and Melanchthon were made the end of controversy and of
freedom. The very principle of Protestantism was forsaken when
ecclesiastics began to prove their positions, not by Scripture, but
by Articles of Faith. So Behmen wandered about, musing, with his
Bible in his hand, and grieved sore because of the strife among
Christian brethren, because evil everywhere was spreading and
fruitful, and goodness so rare and so distressed; because he saw,
both near and far away, such seeming waste and loss of human souls.
A profound melancholy took possession of him—partly that the truth
which would give rest was for himself so hard to find, but most for
the sight of his eyes which he saw, when he looked abroad upon God’s
rational creatures. On his return from his travels he settled in
Görlitz, married early, and worked hard at his trade. Everywhere
these anxious questing thoughts about life’s mystery are with him,
disquieting. He reads many mystical and astrological books, not
improbably, even thus early, Schwenkfeld and Paracelsus.[231] But
the cloudy working of his mind is not soon to give place to sunshine
and clear sky. He is to be found still with the pelican and the
bittern in the desolate places where the salt-pits glisten, and the
nettles breed, and the wild beasts lie down, and the cedar work is
uncovered,—among the untimely ruins of that City of Hope which had
almost won back Christendom in the resistless prime of Luther.

At last, upon an ever-memorable day, as he sat meditating in his
room, he fell, he knew not how, into a kind of trance. The striving,
climbing sorrows of his soul had brought him to this luminous
table-land. A halcyon interval succeeded to the tempest. He did not
seek, he gazed; he was surrounded by an atmosphere of glory. He
enjoyed for seven days an unruffled soul-sabbath. He looked into the
open secret of creation and providence. Such seemed his ecstasy. In
Amadis of Greece an enchanter shuts up the heroes and princesses of
the tale in the Tower of the Universe, where all that happened in
the world was made to pass before them, as in a magic glass, while
they sat gazing, bound by the age-long spell. So Behmen believed
that the principles of the Universal Process were presented to his
vision as he sat in his study at Görlitz. We may say that it was the
work of all his after days to call to mind, to develop for himself,
and to express for others, the seminal suggestions of that and one
following glorious dream.

Behmen was twenty-five years of age when the subject of this first
illumination. He stated that he was thrown into his trance while
gazing on the dazzling light reflected from a tin vessel, as the
rays of the sun struck into his room. Distrusting at first the
nature of the vision, he walked out into the fields to dissipate the
phantasmagoria; but the strange hues and symbols were still present,
and seemed to point him to the heart and secret of the universe. For
several years his gift lay hidden. Behmen was known as a quiet,
meditative, hard-working man, fond of books; otherwise scarcely
distinguishable from other cobblers. Ten years after the first
manifestation he believed himself the recipient of a second, not,
like the former, mediated by anything external; and revealing, with
greater fulness and order, what before lay in comparative confusion.
To fix this communication in a form which might be of abiding
service to him, he began to write his _Aurora_.

But he shall tell his own story, as he did tell it, one-and-twenty
years later, to his friend Caspar Lindern.

‘I saw and knew,’ he says, ‘the Being of all Beings, the Byss
(_Grund_) and the Abyss: _item_, the birth of the Holy Trinity; the
origin and primal state of this world and of all creatures through
the Divine Wisdom. I knew and saw in myself all the three
worlds,—_i.e._ (1) the divine angelic or paradisiacal world; then,
(2) the dark world, as the original of nature, as to the fire; and
(3) this external visible world, as a creation and out-birth, or as
a substance spoken forth out of the two inner spiritual worlds.
Moreover, I saw and had cognizance of the whole Being in good and in
evil—how each had its origin in the other, and how the Mother did
bring forth;—and this all moved me not merely to the height of
wonder, but made me to rejoice exceedingly. (Incredible as it may
appear, this passage _has_ a meaning, which may become apparent to
some readers after a perusal of what is said farther on, in
explanation of Behmen’s system.)

‘Soon it came strongly into my mind that I should set the same down
in writing, for a memorial, albeit I could hardly compass the
understanding thereof in my external man, so as to write it on
paper. I felt that with such great mysteries I must set to work as a
child that goes to school. In my inward man I saw it well, as in a
great deep, for I saw right through as into a chaos in which
everything lay wrapped, but the unfolding thereof I found
impossible.

‘Yet from time to time it opened itself within me, as in a growing
plant. For the space of twelve years I carried it about within
me—was, as it were, pregnant therewith, feeling a mighty inward
impulse, before I could bring it forth in any external form; till
afterwards it fell upon me, like a bursting shower that hitteth
wheresoever it lighteth, as it will. So it was with me, and
whatsoever I could bring into outwardness that I wrote down.

‘Thereafter the sun shone on me a good while, yet not steadily and
without interval, and when that light had withdrawn itself I could
scarce understand my own work. And this was to show man that his
knowledge is not his own, but God’s, and that God in man’s soul
knoweth what and how he will.

‘This writing of mine I purposed to keep by me all my life, and not
to give it into the hands of any man. But it came to pass in the
providence of the Most High, that I entrusted a person with part of
it, by whose means it was made known without my knowledge. Whereupon
my first book, the _Aurora_, was taken from me, and because many
wondrous things were therein revealed, not to be comprehended in a
moment by the mind of man, I had to suffer no little at the hands of
the worldly-wise—(_von den Vernunft-weisen_).

‘For three years I saw no more of this said book, and thought it
verily clean dead and gone, till some learned men sent me copies
therefrom, exhorting me not to bury my talent. To this counsel my
outward reason was in no wise willing to agree, having suffered so
much already. My reason was very weak and timorous at that time, the
more so as the light of grace had then been withdrawn from me some
while, and did but smoulder within, like a hidden fire. So I was
filled with trouble. Without was contempt, within, a fiery driving;
and what to do I knew not, till the breath of the Most High came to
my help again, and awoke within me a new life. Then it was that I
attained to a better style of writing, likewise to a deeper and more
thorough knowledge. I could reduce all better to outward form—as,
indeed, my book concerning _The Threefold Life through the Three
Principles_ doth fully show, and as the godly reader whose heart is
opened will see.

‘So, therefore, have I written, not from book-learning, or the
doctrine and science of men, but from my own book which was opened
within me,—the book of the glorious image of God, which it was
vouchsafed to me to read: ’tis therein I have studied—as a child in
its mother’s house, that sees what its father doth, and mimics the
same in its child’s-play. I need no other book than this.

‘My book has but three leaves—the three principles of Eternity.
Therein I find all that Moses and the prophets, Christ and his
apostles, have taught. Therein I find the foundation of the world
and all mystery,—yet, not I, but the Spirit of the Lord doth it, in
such measure as He pleaseth.

‘For hundreds of times have I prayed him that if my knowledge were
not for his glory and the edifying of my brethren, he will take it
from me, only keeping me in his love. But I have found that with all
my earnest entreaty the fire within me did but burn the more, and it
is in this glow, and in this knowledge, that I have produced my
works....

‘Let no man conceive of me more highly than he here seeth, for the
work is none of mine; I have it only in that measure vouchsafed me
of the Lord; I am but his instrument wherewith he doeth what he
will. This, I say, my dear friend, once for all, that none may seek
in me one other than I am, as though I were a man of high skill and
intellect, whereas I live in weakness and childhood, and the
simplicity of Christ. In that child’s work which he hath given me is
my pastime and my play; ’tis there I have my delight, as in a
pleasure-garden where stand many glorious flowers; therewith will I
make myself glad awhile, till such time as I regain the flowers of
Paradise in the new man.’[232]

This letter alludes to the way in which the _Aurora_ was made public
without the knowledge of its author. The friend to whom he showed it
was Karl von Endern, who, struck by its contents, caused a copy to
be taken, from which others were rapidly multiplied. The book fell
into the hands of Gregory Richter, the chief pastor in Görlitz. Well
may Behmen say that the _Aurora_ contained some things not readily
apprehended by human reason. A charitable man would have forgiven
its extravagances, catching some glimpses of a sincere and religious
purpose; a wise man would have said nothing about it; a man the
wisest of the wise would have been the last to pretend to understand
it. But Richter—neither charitable nor wise exceedingly, nor even
moderately stocked with good sense—fell into a blundering passion,
and railed at Behmen from the pulpit, as he sat in his place at
church, crimson, but patient, the centre of all eyes.

Behmen had already rendered himself obnoxious to Richter by a
temperate but firm remonstrance against an act of ecclesiastical
oppression. Now, his pretensions seem openly to militate against
that mechanical religious monopoly with which Richter imagined
himself endowed,—a privilege as jealously watched and as profitably
exercised by such men as that of the muezzins of the mosque of
Bajazet, who are alone entitled to supply the faithful with the
praying compasses that indicate the orthodox attitude. The insolent,
heretical, blasphemous cobbler shall find no mercy. Richter loudly
calls for the penalties of law, to punish a fanatic who has taught
(as he declares) that the Son of God is Quicksilver! Görlitz
magistrates, either of the Shallow family, or, it may be, overborne
by the blustering Rector, pronounce Behmen ‘a villain full of
piety,’ and banish him the town. But by the next day the tide would
appear to have turned, and the exile is brought back with honour.
The shoemaker’s booth is the scene of a little ovation, while
Richter fumes at the parsonage. Behmen, however, must give up the
manuscript of the _Aurora_, and is required for the future to stick
to his last.

His book, as it became known, procured him many influential friends
among men of learning and men of rank throughout Lusatia. He was
exhorted not to hide his talent, and the ensuing five years became a
period of incessant literary activity.[233] The scholarship of
friends like Kober and Walther assisted him to supply some of the
defects of his education; the liberality of others provided for his
moderate wants, and enabled him to forsake his business for his
books.[234] Once more did his old enemy, the primarius Richter,
appear against him, with a pamphlet of virulent pasquinades in Latin
verse. Behmen issued an elaborate reply, entering minutely into
every charge, sending the clerical curses ‘home to roost,’ and
praying for the enlightenment of his persecutor with exasperating
good temper.[235] The magistrates, fluttered and anxious, requested
him to leave Görlitz. Knightly friends opened their castle gates to
him; he preferred retirement at Dresden. There, a public disputation
he held with some eminent divines and men of science, was said to
have excited general admiration. He returned to Görlitz in his last
illness, to die in the midst of his family. He expired early on
Sunday morning, on the twenty-first of November, 1624, in his
fiftieth year. He asked his son Tobias if he heard the beautiful
music, and bade those about him set the doors open that the sounds
might enter. After receiving the sacrament, he breathed his last, at
the hour of which a presentiment of dissolution had warned him. His
last words were, ‘Now I am going to Paradise!‘[236]

Note to page 80.

Behmen’s learned friends were accustomed thus to test the insight they so revered, and would occasionally attempt to mislead his sagacity by wrong terms and entrapping questions; but always, we are assured, without success. See _Ein Schreiben von einem vornehmen Patritio und Rathsverwandten zu Görlitz wegen seel. Jac. Behmen’s Person und Schriften_, appended to Franckenberg’s Life of Behmen.

The rationale of this peculiar significance of letters and syllables he gives in the following passage:—

When man fell into sin, he was removed from the inmost birth and set in the other two, which presently encompassed him, and mingled their influences with him and in him (_inqualireten mit ihme und in ihme_), as in their own peculiar possession; and man received the spirit and the whole generation of the sidereal, and also of the external birth. Therefore he now speaks all words according to the indwelling generative principle of nature. For the spirit of man, which stands in the sidereal birth, and combines with all nature, and is as all nature itself, shapes the word according to the indwelling principle of birth. When he sees anything he gives it a name answering to its peculiar property or virtue; and if he does this he must fashion the word in the form, and generate it with his voice in the way in which the thing he names generates; and herein lies the kernel of the whole understanding of the Godhead.—_Aurora_, cap. xix. §§ 74-76. On this principle he examines, syllable by syllable, the opening words of Genesis—not those of the Hebrew, but the German version (!), as follows:—‘_Am Anfang schuff Gott_,’ &c. These words we must very carefully consider. The word AM takes its rise in the heart, and goes as far as the lips. There it is arrested, and goes sounding back to whence it came. Now, this shows that the sound went forth from the heart of God, and encompassed the entire _locus_ of the world; but when it was found to be evil, then the sound returned to its place again. The word AN pushes forth from the heart to the mouth, and has a long stress. But when it is pronounced, it closes in its _sedes_ in the midst with the roof of the mouth, and is half without and half within. This signifies that the heart of God felt repugnance at the corruption of the world, and cast the corrupt nature from him, but again seized and stayed it in the midst by his heart. Just as the tongue arrests the word, and retains it half without and half within, so the heart of God would not utterly reject the enflamed Salitter, but would defeat the schemes and malice of the Devil, and finally restore the other.—_Aurora_, cap. xviii. §§ 48-52. A similar precious piece of nonsense is to be found, cap. xviii. §§ 72, &c. of which _Barmherzig_ is the thema. He declares, in another place, that when the spiritual Aurora shall shine from the rising of the sun to the going-down of the same, RA. RA. R.P. shall be driven into banishment, and with him AM. R. P. These are secret words, he says, only to be understood in the language of nature.—_Aurora_, xxvi. 120.

Behmen was indebted to his conversations with men like Kober and Walther for much of his terminology, and probably to the suggestions awakened by such intercourse for much of the detailed application of his system. See _Lebens-lauff_, § 20; and compare the _Clavis_, or _Schlüssel etlicher vornehmen Puncten_, &c.

Footnote 228:

The personal appearance of Behmen is thus described by his friend and
biographer, Abraham von Franckenberg, in the biography prefixed to his
Works, § 27.

Footnote 229:

See Note on p. 88.

Footnote 230:

_Lebens-lauff_, § 4.

Footnote 231:

See his own account of his mental conflict and melancholy, issuing in
the rapturous intuition which solved all his doubts, _Aurora_, cap.
xix. §§ 1-13. He acknowledges having read many astrological books.
_Aurora_, cap. xxv. § 43: Ja, lieber, Leser, ich verstehe der
Astrologorum Meinung auch wol, ich habe auch ein paar zeilen in ihren
Schrifften gelesen, und weiss wol wie sie den Lauf der Sonnen und
Sternen schreiben, ich verachte es auch nicht, sondern halte es
meisten Theil für gut und recht. Compare also cap. x. § 27: Ich habe
viel hoher Meister Schrifften gelesen, in Hoffnung den Grund und die
rechte Tieffe darinnen zu finden, aber ich habe nichts funden als
einen halb-todten Geist, &c. In a letter to Caspar Lindern he mentions
sundry mystical writers concerning whom his correspondent appears to
have desired his opinion,—admits that several of them were men of high
spiritual gifts, not to be despised, though in many respects capable
of amendment,—says that they were of good service in their time, and
would probably express themselves otherwise did they write now,—shows
where he thinks Schwenkfeld wrong in affirming Christ’s manhood to be
no creature, and speaks of Weigel as erring in like manner by denying
the Saviour’s true humanity.—_Theosoph. Sendbr._ §§ 52-60.

Footnote 232:

_Theosoph. Sendbr._ xii. §§ 8-20.

Footnote 233:

A full account of the persecution raised by Gregory Richter against
Behmen, was drawn up by Cornelius Weissner, a doctor of medicine, and
is appended by Franckenberg to his biography. A young man, who had
married a relative of Behmen’s, had been so terrified by the
threatenings of divine wrath launched at him by Richter, about some
trifling money matter, that he fell into a profound melancholy. Behmen
comforted the distressed baker, and ventured to remonstrate with the
enraged primarius, becoming ever after a marked man. For seven years
after the affair of the Aurora, in 1612, Behmen refrained from
writing. Everything he published subsequently was produced between the
years 1619 and 1624, inclusive.

Footnote 234:

Thus he thanks Christian Bernard for a small remittance of
money.—_Theos. Sendbr._ ix. Sept. 12, 1620.

Footnote 235:

_Apologia wider den Primarium zu Görlitz Gregorium Richter_, written
in 1624.

Footnote 236:

Vide Corn. Weissner’s _Wahrhafte Relation_, &c., and Franckenberg’s
account of his last hours, § 29.