back,
Your only hopes the gallows.
112
That the inventor of a resurrection-proof coffin would be hailed as a national hero reveals the extent to which the general public still feared such a postmortem fate. Certainly the average citizen did not see the prospect of putting his or her skull on display as anything like a worthy tribute to a famous mindâafter all, it was still primarily the case that if a skull was on display or under the eye of science, it had probably come from the gallowsor the insane asylum, and few wanted any such institutions associated with their own heads.
A ND SO, AS
expressed by that most basic tenet of capitalism, the dearth of famous skulls coupled with increasing demand made them that much more valuable, and their theft that much more lucrative. In 1809 Joseph Carl Rosenbaum had to pay only 25 gulden to secure a grave diggerâs help; in 1827 those interested in Beethovenâs head were willing to go as high as 1,000 gulden.
A few rare skulls could be had through legal channels. When the German poet and philosopher Friedrich Schillerâs body was exhumed in 1826, twenty-one years after his death, the Duke Carl August had the skull mounted on a velvet cushion in a glass case and displayed in his library. In order to keep the duke from being confused with the religiously superstitious or macabre treasure hunters, much was made of the fact that the skull was to be kept in the libraryâthe proper place for a skull of genius, which could be read phrenologically, almost as if it were another book on the shelf. As a private, special book, it was not for everyone. As the director of the dukeâs library put it, the skull was to be made available only to those âof whom one can be certain that their steps are not governed by curiosity but by a feeling, a knowledge of what that great man achieved for Germany, for Europe, and for the whole civilized world.â 113
If anyone had that feeling, it was this librarian, no less than Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, who would become the bedrock on which much of Germanic literature was based. Either way, after a year the Duke got nervous about the skull and ordered it reinterred with the body. Respectable sources simply could not be relied on; if you wanted a skull, you had to steal it yourself.
S UCH WAS THE
case with the head of the Swedish mystic Emanuel Swedenborg, which showed up for sale in England in 1816 or â17 (the reports varied). A polymath who had excelled in physics, geometry, and chemistry, Swedenborg turned to spiritual questions in his middle age and in the last thirty years of his life published over thirty books of spiritual revelations. In the years following his death a small but fervently devoted branch of Christianity was born.
Swedenborg stressed that the Second Coming was already upon usânot as a literal reappearance of Jesus Christ but his return in spirit, which affected all the world, ushering in a new ageâwhat Swedenborg called the New Church. His writings depicted a parallel spiritual world which can be fully realized only in death, once we have left our mortal remains and when each of us is revealed as who we truly are.
Swedenborg was traveling in London in 1772 when he suffered a stroke and shortly thereafter was liberated from his own mortal remains. He was buried in the Swedish Church, which had been founded by his father to serve the small Swedish communityof London and Swedish naval personnel passing through the port. Swedenborg was buried in the vault below the church, which was kept sealed and opened only occasionally to accept new occupants.
Swedenborgâs coffin was first disturbed in 1790, though not by grave robbers. Rather it was an American Rosicrucian, traveling in England, who flatly refused to believe that Swedenborg had died and contended instead that he had discovered the secret to immortality, drunk an elixir of eternal youth, and then had a fake funeral performed so as to
Your only hopes the gallows.
112
That the inventor of a resurrection-proof coffin would be hailed as a national hero reveals the extent to which the general public still feared such a postmortem fate. Certainly the average citizen did not see the prospect of putting his or her skull on display as anything like a worthy tribute to a famous mindâafter all, it was still primarily the case that if a skull was on display or under the eye of science, it had probably come from the gallowsor the insane asylum, and few wanted any such institutions associated with their own heads.
A ND SO, AS
expressed by that most basic tenet of capitalism, the dearth of famous skulls coupled with increasing demand made them that much more valuable, and their theft that much more lucrative. In 1809 Joseph Carl Rosenbaum had to pay only 25 gulden to secure a grave diggerâs help; in 1827 those interested in Beethovenâs head were willing to go as high as 1,000 gulden.
A few rare skulls could be had through legal channels. When the German poet and philosopher Friedrich Schillerâs body was exhumed in 1826, twenty-one years after his death, the Duke Carl August had the skull mounted on a velvet cushion in a glass case and displayed in his library. In order to keep the duke from being confused with the religiously superstitious or macabre treasure hunters, much was made of the fact that the skull was to be kept in the libraryâthe proper place for a skull of genius, which could be read phrenologically, almost as if it were another book on the shelf. As a private, special book, it was not for everyone. As the director of the dukeâs library put it, the skull was to be made available only to those âof whom one can be certain that their steps are not governed by curiosity but by a feeling, a knowledge of what that great man achieved for Germany, for Europe, and for the whole civilized world.â 113
If anyone had that feeling, it was this librarian, no less than Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, who would become the bedrock on which much of Germanic literature was based. Either way, after a year the Duke got nervous about the skull and ordered it reinterred with the body. Respectable sources simply could not be relied on; if you wanted a skull, you had to steal it yourself.
S UCH WAS THE
case with the head of the Swedish mystic Emanuel Swedenborg, which showed up for sale in England in 1816 or â17 (the reports varied). A polymath who had excelled in physics, geometry, and chemistry, Swedenborg turned to spiritual questions in his middle age and in the last thirty years of his life published over thirty books of spiritual revelations. In the years following his death a small but fervently devoted branch of Christianity was born.
Swedenborg stressed that the Second Coming was already upon usânot as a literal reappearance of Jesus Christ but his return in spirit, which affected all the world, ushering in a new ageâwhat Swedenborg called the New Church. His writings depicted a parallel spiritual world which can be fully realized only in death, once we have left our mortal remains and when each of us is revealed as who we truly are.
Swedenborg was traveling in London in 1772 when he suffered a stroke and shortly thereafter was liberated from his own mortal remains. He was buried in the Swedish Church, which had been founded by his father to serve the small Swedish communityof London and Swedish naval personnel passing through the port. Swedenborg was buried in the vault below the church, which was kept sealed and opened only occasionally to accept new occupants.
Swedenborgâs coffin was first disturbed in 1790, though not by grave robbers. Rather it was an American Rosicrucian, traveling in England, who flatly refused to believe that Swedenborg had died and contended instead that he had discovered the secret to immortality, drunk an elixir of eternal youth, and then had a fake funeral performed so as to
Similar Books
