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Western Esotericism in Scandinavia

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_001

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Brill Esotericism Reference Library Series editor Wouter J. Hanegraaff

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/berl





Western Esotericism in Scandinavia Edited by

Henrik Bogdan Olav Hammer

LEIDEN | BOSTON

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Cover illustration: Magical sigil from the collection of King Charles XIII, used by permission of the Library and Archives of the Swedish Order of Freemasons. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Bogdan, Henrik, editor. Title: Western esotericism in Scandinavia / edited by Henrik Bogdan, Olav Hammer. Description: Boston : Brill, 2016. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2016002650 | ISBN 9789004302419 (hardback : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Occultism--Scandinavia--Encyclopedias. Classification: LCC BF1434.S25 W47 2016 | DDC 135/.40948--dc23 LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2016002650

Want or need Open Access? Brill Open offers you the choice to make your research freely accessible online in exchange for a publication charge. Review your various options on brill.com/brill-open. Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. issn 2468-3566 isbn 978-90-04-30241-9 (hardback) isbn 978-90-04-32596-8 (e-book) Copyright 2016 by Koninklijke Brill nv, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi and Hotei Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill nv provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, ma 01923, usa. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Contents

Contents

List of Contributors xii



Introduction 1 Henrik Bogdan and Olav Hammer

Alchemy in Denmark 11 Morten Fink-Jensen in Finland 18 Tomas Mansikka in Norway 25 Gina Dahl in Sweden 33 Carl-Michael Edenborg Anthroposophy in Denmark 43 René Dybdal in Finland 49 Kennet Granholm in Norway 53 Ingvild Sælid Gilhus in Sweden 58 Håkan Lejon Astrology in the Early Modern Period in Denmark 64 Morten Fink-Jensen in Norway 70 Gina Dahl

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in Sweden 78 Kjell Lekeby Astrology in the Contemporary Period in Denmark 89 Kirstine Munk in Finland 98 Tom Sjöblom in Sweden 104 Jenny-Ann Brodin Danell Christian Theosophy in Denmark 113 Søren Feldtfos Thomsen in Finland 119 Tomas Mansikka in Norway 127 Jan-Erik Ebbestad Hansen in Sweden 137 Fabian Linde Freemasonry in Denmark 145 Andreas Önnerfors in Finland 152 Nils G. Holm in Norway 162 Andreas Önnerfors in Sweden 168 Henrik Bogdan

Contents

Hermeticism in Denmark 182 Morten Fink-Jensen in Sweden 189 Susanna Åkerman Human Potential 195 Liselotte Frisk Jungianism 203 Suzanne Gieser Kabbalah in Denmark 212 Sara Møldrup Thejls in Sweden 218 Thomas Karlsson Magic in the Early Modern Period in Denmark 228 Morten Fink-Jensen in Finland 236 Tomas Mansikka in Sweden 244 Henrik Bogdan and Kjell Lekeby Martinus 254 Helle Bertelsen Mesmerism in Denmark 264 Søren Bak-Jensen in Norway 269 Tonje Maria Mehren

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viii in Sweden 285 Olav Hammer New Age in Denmark 292 Mikael Rothstein in Finland 301 Tom Sjöblom in Norway 307 Ingvild Sælid Gilhus in Sweden 313 Liselotte Frisk Occultism in Denmark 319 Sara Møldrup Thejls in Finland 324 Kennet Granholm in Norway 332 Geir Uldal and Geir Winje in Sweden 343 Kennet Granholm Paganism in Denmark 350 Benjamin Weber Pedersen in Finland 360 Titus Hjelm in Norway 367 Geir Uldal and Geir Winje

Contents

Contents

in Sweden 380 Fredrik Gregorius Pansophy 390 Fabian Linde Paracelsianism in Denmark 402 Jole Shackelford in Finland 410 Tomas Mansikka in Norway 417 Gina Dahl in Sweden 425 Susanna Åkerman Rosicrucianism in the Early Modern Period in Denmark 431 Jole Shackelford in Sweden 439 Susanna Åkerman Rosicrucianism in the Contemporary Period in Denmark 445 Jacob Christiansen Senholt in Finland 448 Tom Sjöblom and Jussi Sohlberg in Norway 453 Kjersti Løken Satanism in Denmark  463 Jesper Aagaard Petersen

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in Finland 474 Titus Hjelm in Norway 481 Asbjørn Dyrendal in Sweden 489 Henrik Bogdan Spiritualism in Denmark  494 Jesper Vaczy Kragh in Finland 500 Jussi Sohlberg in Norway 506 Tonje Maria Mehren in Sweden 521 Robert Carleson and Caroline Levander  Swedenborgianism 534 Jane Williams-Hogan Theosophy in Denmark 554 René Dybdal in Finland 563 Kennet Granholm in Norway 570 Siv Ellen Kraft in Sweden 578 Einar Petander

Contents

Theosophically Inspired Movements in Denmark 587 René Dybdal in Finland 595 Kennet Granholm in Norway 603 Ingvild Sælid Gilhus and Janemil Kolstø† in Sweden 606 Einar Petander Traditionalism in Denmark 615 Kristian Bjørkelo in Norway 618 Kristian Bjørkelo in Sweden 624 Robert Carleson UFO movements in Denmark 630 Mikael Rothstein in Finland 640 Jaakko Närvä in Norway 650 Jan Bertil Heilund in Sweden 660 Jonathan Peste

Index of Names 667 Index of Subjects 689

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List of Contributors

List Of Contributors

List of Contributors Susanna Åkerman PhD, Secretary at Swedenborg Forum, Stockholm. Research interests include Swedenborgianism, Queen Christina of Sweden, Rosicrucianism and alchemy. Søren Bak-Jensen holds a PhD degree in history, and has published several articles on the history of medicine in Denmark. He is currently Director of the Workers’ Museum in Copenhagen. Helle Bertelsen senior master at Randers Statsskole, Denmark. Primary areas of research are NRMs and spirituality in Denmark and India. Kristian A. Bjørkelo is a folklorist and a freelance writer working with various topics ranging from extremism to communication science. He teaches communication at the University of Bergen. Henrik Bogdan is Professor in Religious Studies at the University of Gothenburg. His main areas of research are New Religious Movements, Twentieth-Century Occultism, and Freemasonry. Robert Carleson MA in History of Ideas and Literature Studies. He is Archivist at the Library and Archives of the Swedish Order of Freemasonry. Gina Dahl Dr. Art. in history of Religion (2007) and a consultant at the Regional State Archives of Bergen, has published extensively on book distribution in early modern Norway. Jenny-Ann Danell is Associate Professor and Senior Lecturer in Sociology, at Umeå University. Her main research is on production and negotiation of knowledge, with special focus on complementary medicine.

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René Dybdal is Head of Center for Research and Development in Health Technology at VIA University College. PhD about Theosophy in Denmark and has furthermore conducted research on new religions. Asbjørn Dyrendal is Professor at the Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies, Norwegian University of Science and Technology. His main research areas are contemporary Western religion and conspiracy culture. Jan-Erik Ebbestad Hansen is Professor in History of Ideas, Department of Philosophy, Classics, History of Arts and Ideas, University of Oslo. Fields of research: Christian mysticism, esotericism, Faust literature and Norwegian History of ideas. Carl-Michael Edenborg PhD in History of Ideas (2002), is a writer, critic, editor, publisher, and historian of alchemy. Morten Fink-Jensen PhD, Associate Professor of History, the Saxo Institute, University of Copenhagen. His research interests revolve around the cultural history of science and religion in early modern Scandinavia. Liselotte Frisk Professor in Religious Studies at Dalarna University, Sweden, since 2006. PhD with dissertation on New Religious Movements in 1993 at Åbo Akademi, Finland. Research areas include New Age and children in minority religions. Suzanne Gieser PhD in the History of Sciences, Uppsala University, licenced relational psychotherapist. Research areas: History of Dynamic Psychology in Sweden, Jung History. Ingvild Sælid Gilhus is Professor of Religion at the University of Bergen, Norway. She works in the areas of religion in late antiquity and New Age spiritualities. 

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Kennet Granholm is Docent in Comparative Religion at Åbo Akademi University. He has  published extensively on contemporary esotericism and new religions, popular culture, and sociological method and theory. Fredrik Gregorius PhD, is Senior Lecturer in History of Religions at Linkoping University, Sweden. His main areas of research are American Evangelical movements, contemporary European Paganism, and African-American diaspora religions. Olav Hammer is Professor of the Study of Religions at the University of Southern Denmark. His main areas of research are new religious currents and Western esotericism in the post-Enlightenment West. Jan Bertil Heilund PhD, primary research on Norwegian UFO groups and organisations, teaches at Bergen Cathedral School. Titus Hjelm is Reader in Sociology at University College London. His main areas of interest are sociology of religion, social theory, social problems, media, and popular culture. Nils G. Holm professor em. of Åbo Akademi University, Finland. He has been teaching world religions for more than thirty years, especially psychology of religion. He holds a Dr. Theol. from Uppsala University, Sweden. Thomas Karlsson PhD, Stockholm University, Sweden.  His main focus is Renaissance and Baroque esotericism and Scandinavian Kabbalah, as well as contemporary Left Hand Path occultism. Karlsson is Director of the Esoteric Crossroads seminars on Villa San Michele, Capri, Italy. Janemil Kolstø† was a doctoral candidate who worked on a thesis on the Share International movement.

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Siv Ellen Kraft is Professor of Religious Studies at the University of Tromsø, Norway’s Arctic University. Major Research interests include Theosophy, New Age, Neo-paganism, and Indigenous religion(s). Jesper Vaczy Kragh Associate Professor, MA, PhD, is currently working on a research project funded by the Danish Ministry of Culture and the Danish Agency of Culture. Håkan Lejon retired priest of the Church of Sweden and Waldorf teacher, completed a PhD dissertation on anthroposophy in Sweden at Stockholm University in 1997. Kjell Lekeby BA is a private scholar in history of ideas, specialising in alchemy, astrology, magic, and Freemasonry. Caroline Levander is a PhD Candidate in Art History at the University of Gothenburg. Her research is focused on esoteric ideas expressed in late Nineteenth- and early Twentieth-Century art. Fabian Linde (PhD) is a Postdoctoral Researcher at the Uppsala Centre for Russian and Eurasian Studies (UCRS), who specialises in Russian intellectual history.  Kjersti Løken MA in History of Religions, is a private scholar. She is the author of an MA thesis on AMORC in Norway. Tomas Mansikka Phil. Lic. Independent researcher in the fields of History of Ideas, History of Religions, Philosophy, Reformation Culture, Western Esotericism. Tonje Maria Mehren is a historian of ideas specialising in Spiritualism, parapsychology, and psychic research in Norway.

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Kirstine Munk completed a PhD dissertation in 2008 on the role of astrology in contemporary society, with a special focus on astrology in Denmark. Jaakko Närvä PhD, Religious Studies. Primary areas of research: UFO religiosity and philosophy of Religious Studies. Andreas Önnerfors is an Associate Professor in Intellectual History at the University of Gothenburg, Sweden. His main areas of research are the intellectual culture of the Enlightenment and organised sociability, Freemasonry, and fraternal orders of the period.  Benjamin Weber Pedersen is part-time Lecturer in the Study of Religions at the University of Southern Denmark. His main research interests are Norse religion, occultism, and contemporary pagan movements. Jonathan Peste PhD in History of Religions, is an independent scholar. His main areas of research are Hermetism, Gnosticism, and the relation between religion and violence. Einar Petander is doctoral candidate in Comparative Religion at Åbo Akademi University. His main focus of research is the history of Theosophy, particularly in a Swedish context. Jesper Aagaard Petersen is Associate Professor of Religion and Education at the Norwegian University of Science and Technology, Trondheim, Norway. His primary research interests include contemporary Satanism and Left-Hand Path groups, religion and science, and art as transgression. Mikael Rothstein PhD is Associate Professor/Senior Lecturer of Comparative Religion, University of Southern Denmark, and Visiting Professor, Vytautas Magnus University, Kaunas. He specialises in the study of hunter-gatherers and new religions in the West.

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Jacob Christiansen Senholt PhD candidate in history of ideas, University of Aarhus, research areas include political and religious radicalism, traditionalism, political esotericism, occultism, and neopaganism. Jole Shackelford Assistant Professor of the History of Medicine, University of Minnesota Medical School. His areas of research include Early European Science and Medicine, and History of Chronobiology. Tom Sjöblom ThD, is a Docent in the Study of Religions at the University of Helsinki. His research objects include the origins of religious thinking, magic in the Middle Ages, and pre-Christian religions in Europe. Jussi Sohlberg MTh,  is a research coordinator at the Research Institute of the Lutheran Church in Finland. He is specialised in Western esotericism and Alternative Spirituality. Sara Møldrup Thejls holds an MA in history of religions from University of Copenhagen and University of Amsterdam. Her main research interests are esotericism, Kabbalah, New Age, and New Religious Movements. She is employed as a religious studies teacher at Helsingoer High School in Denmark. Søren Feldtfos Thomsen PhD is Postdoctoral researcher at Aarhus University, Department for the Study of Religion. Geir Uldal has studied and practised ritual magic and related concepts since the 1970s, and has many contacts in Norwegian paganistic and occult milieus. Jane Williams-Hogan Professor Emerita at Bryn Athyn College, PA. PhD, University of Pennsylvania, 1985, focusing on the sociology of religion. Co-director of MA of Religious Studies programme. Research area: Swedenborg studies.

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Geir Winje is an Assistant Professor, working with teacher education at Buskerud and Vestfold University College (Norway). His research fields are religious art and modern religiosity, such as neopaganism and occultism.

Introduction Introduction

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Introduction Henrik Bogdan and Olav Hammer Bogdan and Hammer

The Field

In the last two decades or so, the study of Western esotericism has become one of the most rapidly expanding academic pursuits. Currents ranging in time from alchemy and Hermeticism of the early modern period to various New Age pursuits and UFO-related beliefs of the contemporary age are often placed under this general category. Which substantive characteristics might unite such a disparate set remains an open and controversial issue. Luckily, this is of little concern for an encyclopedic work such as ours: considerably less controversy surrounds the question of what contents should be counted as part of the category of Western esotericism. This partial consensus is in no small measure due to an authoritative encyclopedia, Hanegraaff et al (2005), which in more than 1200 pages summarises information on roughly 300 currents, concepts, and individuals. With few exceptions, the Dictionary of Gnosis and Western Esotericism focuses on Western esotericism in countries where the main language of communication is English, German, Italian or French. Even when it comes to the earlier periods, when most learned works were written in Latin, the same geographical limitation can be observed. In this sense, the Dictionary awaits follow-up volumes that cover esotericism in other parts of the world where esoteric currents have been influential: for older periods, the Islamic and Jewish cultural spheres; for the early modern and contemporary periods, Eastern and Northern Europe. The present work represents such an attempt, covering Western esotericism in four Northern European countries: Denmark, Finland, Norway, and Sweden. What has been done in the Dictionary need not be redone. We have not attempted to define or introduce the main currents covered here, nor have we asked our contributors to do so. We assume that the gamut of currents, ranging in alphabetical order from Anthroposophy and astrology to Traditionalism and UFO s, are already at least minimally familiar to our readers. If not, the Dictionary of Gnosis and Western Esotericism provides extensive coverage of these and many other relevant terms.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_002

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The Selection and Organisation of Entries

Sociologist Roland Robertson (1992) coined the term glocalisation to denote the way in which global ideas, practices, and material objects are adapted to local conditions. The story of religion in Scandinavia after Christianisation (as summarised in, e.g., Hammer 2015) is very much the tale of many ­glocalisations, and so are the many manifestations of Western esotericism from the early sixteenth century to the present day. Even the most innovative esotericists tended to mine concepts and practices already found on the European continent, and produce local, Scandinavian versions. In some cases the degree of adaptation is minimal: organisations with their headquarters outside of Scandinavia can open branches in Copenhagen or Stockholm, and run these local branches as faithful replicas of their counterparts abroad. In other cases the effect of localisation is much more pronounced. When Swedish sixteenth-century esotericist Johannes Bureus (1568–1652) became familiar with kabbalistic ideas concerning the role of the Hebrew alphabet, he chose to devise a structurally similar system that assigned occult qualities to the Nordic rune alphabet. Given the dependence of Scandinavian esotericism on currents developed elsewhere, it seemed a natural choice to organise our volume in terms of such currents as they are manifested in each of the Scandinavian countries. Individual entries will thus provide information on such topics as alchemy in Denmark, Freemasonry in Norway, Theosophy in Finland, and UFO movements in Sweden, to mention just a few examples. Although the borders between currents are scholarly constructions, and our choice has at times been guided by pragmatism rather than hard-and-fast rules, this way of organising the material should also make it easy for readers unfamiliar with Scandinavian history to orient themselves in the material. Those who wish to find specific data on individual people will be able to locate that information by consulting the detailed index. The single exception to this role is our choice to place Martinus (1890–1981) and the movement named after him in a chapter of his own, since his particular form of esotericism is difficult to place into one of the existing categories. Over the several years that this book project developed, we have drawn on the expertise of numerous individuals, from established scholars to rising stars. Most people we have approached were eager to share their knowledge and were generous in providing information about colleagues who had explored the lesser-known nooks and crannies of Western esotericism in a Scandinavian setting (a brief summary of the existing research that we have drawn on can be found in Bogdan & Hammer 2008). The reader will nevertheless discover lacunae in the text. To the best of our knowledge, there is at the time of writing

Introduction

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simply no research on such topics as astrology in contemporary Norway, or the influence of Traditionalism in Finland. This volume thus serves as a map of the state of the art on our selected topic, and indirectly provides clues as to potential research topics. An aid to further research is provided by the bibliographies at the end of each chapter. Although academic scholarship in the humanities is said to be internationally oriented, one aspect of these reference lists seems to strikingly disconfirm this notion. Almost all research on esotericism in Scandinavia has resulted in publications in local languages. If Western esotericism in Scandinavia is such an uncharted field for most non-Scandinavians, that is the reason. Much of what appears between the present covers will have been previously inaccessible to those who lack command of a Scandinavian language and of Finnish. Quotes from Scandinavian- and Finnish-language sources and scholarship included in the present volume have been translated by the authors of the respective chapters, unless noted otherwise.



The Scandinavian Countries

Our choice of what countries to include is in part dictated by the extent of our personal networks and the limits of our own knowledge. Strictly speaking, Scandinavia is a term that covers three countries with a shared linguistic and cultural heritage: Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. In an extended sense, the term Scandinavia is used as a synonym for the (stylistically clumsier) term “the Nordic countries”, which also includes Finland, Iceland, and the Faeroe Islands. Until very recently, even distant Greenland was a dependency of Norway (until 1814) and then of Denmark (until colonial status was abolished in 1953). Politically, but not geographically, Greenland thus also belongs to the immediate sphere of influence of the Nordic countries. Culturally, not least when it comes to the history of ideas and history of religion, Finland has been close to the three Scandinavian countries senso strictu. Swedish was up to the modern period extensively used as a language of learned communication, and for many years, political fortunes (to be outlined below) united Finland with Sweden. It therefore seemed natural to include the situation in Finland in our volume. Iceland, the Faeroe Islands, and Greenland were excluded for pragmatic reasons only. To the extent that there have been writers on esoteric topics, organisations with esoteric foci, and researchers surveying esotericism in these territories, linguistic barriers and our own lack

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of familiarity with the relevant histories have made us decide against covering them. The occasional mention by one or another of our authors – for instance the fact that the Norwegian priest Hans Egede (1686–1758), missionary to Greenland after 1721, sent for alchemical works and tried to manufacture the Philosopher’s Stone in his new homeland – suggests that much could be uncovered outside Scandinavia as we have chosen to define the term. We do, of course, hope that somebody will take up the challenge and extend the present survey beyond our self-imposed borders. For ease of reference, we have allowed a historical anachronism to pervade our book. We describe the situation in four countries that have seen shifting borders and where political sovereignty has come and gone over the centuries. A historically precise identification would have entailed placing some of the people and events that are covered here in such chapters as “Alchemy in Norway”, in a separate section that could have a title such as “Alchemy in the Norwegian Part of the Danish-Norwegian Kingdom”. Such historical precision comes at the price of both linguistic awkwardness and potential confusion, especially for readers unfamiliar with the broad political events in Scandinavian history. A few basic facts that might be included in a thumbnail sketch of the various fortunes of nations and national borders from the early sixteenth century to today will illustrate why: The Scandinavian countries were from 1397 to 1523 joined in a political union, the Kalmar Union, with a single monarch at its head. When our story begins, various nations were beginning to break away from this union and, with various degrees of success, assert their national independence and their dominance over neighbouring territories. In 1523 Sweden definitively broke out of the union, with Gustav Vasa becoming king. Sweden was at this time a considerably smaller country than today, since much of the present-day territory was controlled by the Danish crown. Denmark also broke out of the union at this time, but retained control over Norway. A double kingdom of Denmark-Norway lasted until 1814, and strictly speaking, all events described here as taking place in Norway before that year took place in the double monarchy of Denmark-Norway. This double kingdom also continued to rule over several of the southern and western provinces of what later became part of Sweden. Brutal wars between Sweden and Denmark led to the incorporation of these provinces into Swedish territory in a peace treaty signed in 1658. By then, Swedish military fortunes had also made the territory of Sweden expand greatly. Parts of the Baltic countries, for instance, had come to belong to Sweden, but were later lost again: Estonia and Livonia (part of present-day Latvia) in 1721, and Courland (Western present-day Latvia) in 1795.

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The bond between Sweden and Finland was even stronger. The DanishNorwegian double monarchy concentrated power to Copenhagen, but Norway had its own legal code and its own institutions. Finland, by contrast, was considered a completely integrated part of the Swedish state from the Middle Ages up to 1809. After Sweden lost a war against Russia, the Finnish-speaking area came under two distinct spheres of influence. A territory roughly equivalent to what is today Finland became an autonomous part of the Russian empire, the so-called Grand Duchy of Finland, until independence was achieved in 1917. A much smaller Finnish-speaking area, west of the Torne River, remains an integral part of Sweden to the present day. These few pointers to the extreme flux that has characterised boundaries delimiting the Scandinavian countries barely begin to scratch the surface of the complexities. In short, the decision to divide the topics of the present volume after the present-day geographic entities may perhaps offend purist historians, but we insist that this is the most sensible option.

Esotericism in Scandinavia: A Brief Overview

The large amounts of information that follow in the body of this encyclopedia are arranged alphabetically and by country, rather than in a chronological narrative, and are often quite detailed. For newcomers to the history of religions in Scandinavia, and to the place of Western esotericism within that general history, a thumbnail sketch (with examples culled from various chapters in this book) may be useful. Once the Scandinavian countries emerged from the Kalmar Union as separate entities, Lutheranism was imposed as the only tolerated religion. In Sweden, religious hegemony had been enforced by the end of the sixteenth century, and all Swedish citizens were compelled to belong to the Lutheran state church. In Denmark-Norway, a similar process led to the country-wide establishment of Lutheran orthodoxy already in 1536. Although religious dissent was seen as a serious matter, esoteric currents from the European continent – in particular, astrology, alchemy, and kabbalistic and paracelsian ideas – managed to influence some segments of the population. Three factors in particular impacted on the dissemination of these early forms of esotericism. Firstly, they presupposed a considerable degree of specialised and often bookish knowledge. Given the minuscule size of the Scandinavian intellectual elite, and its concentration to parts of Denmark and Sweden, relatively few people were actively involved in promoting such pursuits. The influence of esoteric currents in the Norwegian part of the double kingdom and in the

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Finnish part of Sweden, which at the time were cultural peripheries, was particularly restricted. In Sweden, for instance, a survey of the available sources reveals the names of only some eighty active alchemists in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The situation of astrology was even more extreme: only one professional astrologer of early modern Sweden is known to us: Sigfrid Aron Forsius (ca. 1560–1624). It is symptomatic that Johannes Bureus (1568– 1652), who was the most innovative Swedish esotericist of the early modern period, barely had any influence on his contemporaries. Secondly, shifting opinions on whether esoteric ideas conflicted with basic Christian tenets, or with the Aristotelian philosophy that was part of the standard university curriculum, led to an unstable situation where support for particular practices could be forthcoming for a while, until the tides shifted, and the same practices were criticised or even banned. Astrology, in particular, was at times accepted, and at other times perceived as a threat to the fundamental Christian doctrine of free will. In Denmark, astrology was included in the charter of the University of Copenhagen, formulated in 1539. Tycho Brahe (1546–1601), the most celebrated astronomer of early modern Scandinavia, published predictions that drew attention in royal circles. King Frederik II (1534–1588) felt that Tycho’s methods could be useful in that they delivered both broad political predictions and information on the fate of individual members of the royal family. Many theologians, however, were averse to the practise, and once a less supportive king was in place, the situation of astrology changed dramatically. In 1633 King Christian IV issued a decree making specific predictions in almanacs forbidden, because the practise might provoke the ire of the deity. Thirdly, as a consequence of the first two factors, the situation of at least some esoteric currents in early modern Scandinavia often depended on the efforts of a handful of key individuals: sympathetic members of the royal family who chose to support unorthodox ideas, or centrally placed intellectuals who went against prevailing mainstream opinions. For instance, paracelsianism gained a firm foothold in Denmark largely through the efforts of one man, Peder Sørensen (1542–1602), better known by his Latinised name Petrus Severinus, and through the protection of his royal patron. Severinus took the fundamental ideas of Paracelsus’ medicine, and created a systematic body of thought. The publication in 1571 of his main work, Idea medicinae philosophicæ, secured him the position as royal physician to King Frederik II of Denmark. At the cusp of the eighteenth century, Lutheran religious hegemony met new challenges, and countermeasures became even harsher. In the decades around 1700, Pietist movements entered Scandinavia from Germany. A form of religion that saw organised churches as irrelevant to true piety, or even as

Introduction

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impediments to a spiritual life, could be construed as a major threat by states that wished to impose complete religious uniformity. In 1726, the Swedish political administration enacted a law against religious dissent, named konventikelplakatet, prohibiting all unsanctioned religious gatherings. In 1735, it was further stipulated that not only were religious gatherings and religious proselytism forbidden, it was also a punishable offence to hold “erroneous” ideas. In Denmark-Norway a similar law, designated by the nearly identical name konventikelplakaten, was promulgated in 1741 by King Christian VI, outlawing all religious gatherings that had not received authorisation by the local parish priest. Pietists and revivalists who were understood to violate these laws could be imprisoned or exiled. Whereas the religious activities of commoners were strictly supervised, the uppermost social strata were much freer to experiment with forms of religiosity far outside the bounds of Christian orthodoxy (Lekeby 2010). Two new sources of influence became highly important in the mid-to-late eighteenth century: the development of masonic-style secret orders, and the legacy of the Swedish visionary Emanuel Swedenborg (1688–1772). Several secretive orders were formed, where members delved into such esoteric interests as Hermeticism and magic. The highly secret order Metatron was probably founded in the 1720s. According to a few surviving manuscripts (now at the masonic archives of the Swedish Grand Lodge), this was a Hermetickabbalistic order that was critical of the Order of Freemasonry, which they considered to have revealed too much of the arcane sciences. The group seems to have performed some highly unorthodox rituals, in particular attempts to communicate with higher beings such as angels. In a number of books published in the last three decades of his life, Sweden­ borg presented a complex cosmology based on his visionary experiences, in which he conversed with angels and spirits. It should be noted, however, that Swedenborg’s ideas were at first more influential abroad, especially in England (where the first Swedenborgian church-like group was founded in Manchester in 1782; see Mayer 2005: 1105) and the United States, than in his native Sweden. In his home country, Swedenborg’s experiences were at first often seen as a source of inspiration, the idea being that if Swedenborg could converse with spirits, so could others. In the 1770s, Duke Charles (later, King Charles XIII) gathered around himself a small group of people, who met at the royal castle in order to contact spirits of the dead and angels, practise ritual magic, and perform alchemical experiments (Lekeby 2010). By the end of the eighteenth century, mesmerism entered Scandinavia as yet another current to challenge orthodoxy. In Sweden, various organisations could attempt in rather diverse ways to combine mesmerist practices and

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Swedenborgian ideas, attempt to restrict the use of mesmerism for purposes of healing, or experiment with paranormal phenomena that seemed to be manifested by particularly sensitive subjects. In Denmark, a number of cultural luminaries praised the medical potential of mesmerist treatments, or suggested that mesmerism was one of the great discoveries of mankind. The laws against religious dissent were gradually weakened, but were only completely lifted in the mid-nineteenth century. By then, orthodoxy could no longer contain innovative and heterodox religious practices. Local revival movements, in particular, had gripped large segments of the population. The first missionaries from abroad were also able to operate in Scandinavia. Mormonism, for instance, attracted a fair number of converts in Denmark after mission efforts had begun in 1850, immediately after the adoption of a new, more religiously tolerant constitution in 1849. The more accepting religious climate of the mid- to late nineteenth century also allowed new esoteric currents from abroad to enter Scandinavia. Spiritualism, in particular, gained a strong foothold in all Scandinavian countries. The new movement came to Denmark very soon after its inception in the United States. In 1853, the German press began to print reports of table turning, and news of these experiments reached Denmark. Spiritualism became an object of public debate, and several leading Danish intellectuals and artists showed an interest in the topic. After the British medium William Eglington visited Stockholm in 1875, and his séances had been covered by the Swedish press, a Swedish spiritualist organisation was founded in 1877. In Norway, spiritualism gained a somewhat less secure foothold in the last two decades of the century. Another major esoteric movement of the nineteenth century, Theosophy, arrived in Scandinavia a few years later. Theosophical lodges were founded in major cities throughout Scandinavia. A site on the Swedish island of Visingsö was even destined to become a new world centre for the movement, but the death of Theosophical leader Katherine Tingley and financial troubles aborted those plans. Local organisations, closely inspired by the Theosophical Society have imparted a home-grown flavour to this international movement. Examples include Shan the Rising Light in Denmark and Ruusu-Risti (‘The Rose-Cross’) in Finland. The twentieth century, and especially the latter half of that century, was a time of massive religious experimentation. Numerous religious groups, from Christian denominations outside the Lutheran tradition, to religions of Asiatic (Hindu or Buddhist) origin, came to Scandinavia. As part of this broader trend of religious innovation, the entire panoply of esoteric currents that one finds abroad spread in the Scandinavian countries. Movements inspired by

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Theosophy were among the earliest to proliferate, most importantly among them Anthroposophy. Norway, in particular, has been a stronghold of interest in the legacy of founder Rudolf Steiner. Numerous occult orders can be found in all four countries. Satanism has its subcultural foothold. Modern Rosicrucian groups have found a small but sympathetic following. New Age activities, in particular, continue to fascinate sizeable segments of the Scandinavian population. Finally, the twentieth century also saw the emergence of Martinus Cosmology, a home-grown form of esotericism that combines Christianity, Theosophy, and the cosmological beliefs of its creator, Martinus Thomsen, into an original synthesis. All of these currents continue to exist also at present, demonstrating the vibrant presence of esotericism in twenty-first century Denmark, Finland, Norway, and Sweden.

Concluding Remarks

The editors of the Dictionary of Gnosis and Western Esotericism note that the sheer diversity of currents and ideas should dispel any simple notion of an essential unity of Western esotericism. At the same time, an air de famille nevertheless pervades much of what counts as “esoteric”. By expanding the view so that the situation in Scandinavia is also covered, this double picture of family resemblances and a multiplicity of approaches is confirmed. We invite readers to explore a world where topics from the global world of esotericism can be found in forms familiar from the European continent, as well as in versions that betray the distinct creative input of local spiritual ­virtuosi. A uniquely Satanist take on Theosophy, a monument built to commemorate the visit of benevolent space brothers, “heavenly marriages” carried out in the carnal sense, and necromantic experiments performed by Swedish aristocrats are just some of the many striking phenomena that resulted when various forms of Western esotericism were transposed to a Scandinavian context.

References

Bogdan, Henrik and Olav Hammer, “Research on Esotericism in Scandinavia”, in: Tore Ahlbäck (ed.), Western Esotericism, Åbo/Turku: Donner Institute, 2008, 38–49. Hammer, Olav, “Old New Religions in Scandinavia”, in: James R. Lewis and Inga Bårdsen Tøllefsen (eds.), Nordic New Religions, Leiden, etc.: Brill, 2015.

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Hanegraaff, Wouter J., et al., Dictionary of Gnosis and Western Esotericism, Leiden: Brill, 2005. Lekeby, Kjell, Gustaviansk mystik, Sala & Södermalm: Vertigo, 2010. Mayer, Jean-François, “Swedenborgian traditions”, in: Wouter J. Hanegraaff et al. (eds.), Dictionary of Gnosis and Western Esotericism, Leiden: Brill, 2005, 1105–1110. Robertson, Roland, Globalization: Social Theory and Global Culture, London: Sage, 1992.

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Chapter 1

Alchemy in Denmark Morten Fink-Jensen Only scant evidence exists of alchemy being practised or even known in medieval Denmark. Archbishop Jens Grand (d. 1327) owned a book on alchemy, and archaeological findings support indications that one or two of the bishops of Aarhus were engaged in alchemical experiments in the fifteenth century. Given the costs of the substances and equipment needed, the art of alchemy is generally best documented within the upper strata of society, and sources suggest that, beginning with King Christian II (1481–1559, r. 1513–1523), alchemy was over the following two centuries mainly a royal pursuit. The female advisor to Christian II, Sigbrit Villoms, was rumoured to be an adept in alchemy. Both King Christian III (1503–1559, r. 1534–1559) and his son and successor Frederik II (1534–1588, r. 1559–1588) were intrigued by the possibilities of alchemy, especially with regards to its importance in regard to the production of chemically-prepared medicine.

Tycho Brahe’s Laboratory

King Frederik II funded Tycho Brahe’s (1546–1601) research into astronomy (which at the time included astrology) and alchemy, and Tycho supplied the court with his chemical remedies. Tycho, as far as we know, did not try to transmute metals into gold, but equated alchemical investigations with chemical experiments and he held minerals, metals, and chemical substances to be analogous to the celestial bodies and containing the same power to influence the microcosm of the body as the stars exerted on the macrocosm. For this reason, Tycho labelled alchemy “terrestial astronomy”. Tycho professed to have been as much occupied by alchemy as astronomy throughout his career, but while he published his astronomical observations, he kept in line with the tradition of secrecy in alchemy and refused to disclose his findings, claiming that it was not given to everybody to treat such great mysteries properly and honestly. In the basement of his Uraniborg castle on the Island of Hven, Tycho had a laboratory built, by his own description containing sixteen different furnaces for chemical use, viz. three bath-heaters, a digesting furnace with ashes, four large athanors (used for constant heating) and two small ones, two distillation furnaces with sand or ashes, one for a large bellows, connected to the furnace © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_003

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by means of two pipes, another furnace placed apart, with lamps, two furnaces reflecting the heat, one directly, the other in a spiral, partly placed freely, partly in a closed chamber. Many individuals in the circle around Tycho Brahe were also pursuing alchemy, whether for reasons of health or wealth. The most notable among these were his sister Sophie Brahe (1556–1643), who personally conducted iatrochemical experiments (i.e., combining alchemy with medicine), and her second husband, the nobleman Erik Lange. He squandered vast sums trying to transmute base metals into gold and finally fled the country in order to avoid being imprisoned for debt. Lange died in exile in 1613, perhaps in Prague while staying with relatives of Tycho Brahe.

Paracelsian Chemistry and Medicine

In 1555, the bishop of Sealand, Peder Palladius (1503–1560), referred to alchemy as an integral part of medicine, but accused those who professed to be able to make gold of being imposters. Palladius’ connection of alchemy with medicine squared well with the university curriculum where pharmaceutical alchemy was plainly accepted. Caspar Bartholin the Elder, professor of medicine at the University of Copenhagen 1613–1624, taught his students both Galenic humoralism and the spagyric art of Paracelsus, but the quest for gold by way of transmutation was as a rule left out. Occasionally, the Academic Senate at the University of Copenhagen was called upon to act as court in matters involving alchemy. In 1595 the professor of Latin, Hans Rasmussen Skomager (Johannes Erasmi Hafniensis), was summoned before the Senate by a German alchemist, Casper Kröger, with whom he had collaborated. Disagreements between them prompted the alchemist to accuse the professor of having stolen his secrets contained in a handwritten manuscript with the title De confiendo sigillo Salomonis. Professor Skomager vehemently denied the charge and even hit his accuser in the face in front of the judges, forcing the Senate to reprimand the professor for such un-academic behaviour. The fact that the professor had been dealing with the alchemist in the first place was, however, not a matter of concern to the Senate. In 1700, the Copenhagen physician Christian Hacqvart appeared in a case brought before the Senate by the coppersmith Henrik Ehm. Hacqvart had promised to pay Ehm 600 thalers for a method to make gold from silver, but as the method turned out to be quite worthless, Hacqvart refused to pay and the Senate supported his stance. Since alchemy in connection with Paracelsian chemistry and medicine was commonplace in late sixteenth and seventeenth century Denmark, Paracelsian remedies were fully incorporated in the official pharmaceutical tariff of 1619.

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This also included prescriptions composed by famous alchemists such as Oswald Croll and Joseph Duchesne (Quercetanus). In 1629 royal physician Henning Arnisæus noted that the tariff was already out of date because it included too few of the popular chemical prescriptions. The renewed tariff of 1645 mirrored this sentiment by including twice the number of chemical composites, tinctures, elixirs, and essences. The trend continued and the tariff of 1672 tripled the number. The popularity of the chemical remedies continued, but their Paracelsian and alchemical background became less important – or were no longer of interest – in the eighteenth century. A telling example is the Elixir proprietatis Paracelsi of the pharmacopoeia Dispensatorium Hafniense of 1658 being sold as Elixir proprietatis cum/sine acido in the Pharmacopoea Danica of 1772. Chemically prepared medicine was also recommended in popular manuals of medicine such as pastor Niels Mikkelsen Aalborg’s Medicin eller Læge-Bog (Medicine or Cure-book), printed in 1633, which contained numerous references to Croll’s Basilica chymica (1609). Mikkelsen Aalborg (1562–1645) admitted that many of the chemical prescriptions – as compared to traditional herbal recipes – were difficult to prepare without the proper equipment. This naturally led to iatrochemistry being pursued by more affluent members of society, often in conjunction with alchemy in the sense of the attempted transmutation of base metals into gold.

Alchemy in a Royal Setting

This dual interest in iatrochemistry and alchemy can be seen in Peter Payngk, who in 1609 was appointed royal chymicus and distiller to King Christian IV (1588–1648) in Denmark. Payngk, who was born ca. 1575 in Husum in Southern Jutland, had previously held a position as chemist at the court of Emperor Rudolph II in Prague. In Copenhagen he was given a newly-built laboratory next to the royal castle of Rosenborg in Copenhagen. The laboratory included fifteen different ovens and was perhaps partly modelled on directions taken from the 1606 edition of Alchymia by Andreas Libavius of which Payngk owned a copy. Payngk’s assignment was to produce medicine, liquor, and perfume to the court, and he wrote a collection of prescriptions of nearly 700 pages that was never published but is preserved in manuscript form. This manuscript is a testament to Payngk’s great admiration for Paracelsus who he believed had acquired his insights into the secrets of nature from the Egyptians and since then had worked wonders through magic, not least by achieving the transmutation of numerous metals into gold. Payngk eagerly tried to copy Paracelsus’

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apparent success in the laboratory at Rosenborg, and his book of prescriptions contains various hints as to how to produce the coveted Philosopher’s Stone, tincture or materia prima. He even ended the collection with a biography of his hero, entitled Rhapsodia vitae Theophrasti Paracelsi. Payngk, who was undoubtedly regarded as one of the leading alchemical experts in Denmark until his death in 1645, claimed to have been successful in transmuting copper into silver, but the transmutation of mercury into gold was, alas, something that he had only seen others perform. Payngk also supplied the minor court of crown prince Christian at Nykøbing Castle in southern Denmark. Iatrochemistry was actively pursued here, and the German chemist Daniel Sennert in Wittenberg dedicated his fifth book of Practicae medicinae to the Danish prince. The castle in Nykøbing was also furnished with a laboratory in 1641 upon the arrival of the prince’s newly appointed physician, Helvig Dietrich. In 1642 the Saxon Casper Herbach (d. 1664) was hired by King Christian IV to work alongside Peter Payngk as a consultant with expertise on metallurgy. In 1623 the mining of silver had begun in Kongsberg, Norway, and Herbach was to examine ore samples sent down from Norway to Copenhagen for possible contents of gold. In 1646 the so-called Melting-House was erected in order to refine Herbach’s methods of analysis. His salary was initially eighty thalers yearly, but when Frederik III (1648–1670) ascended the throne his commission was renewed and his salary was raised more than sixfold to 500 thalers yearly. This was a gesture pointing to the increasingly favourable circumstances alchemy was offered during the reign of King Frederik III. In 1655 the King’s residence at Copenhagen Castle was provided with a new laboratory. Here he joined in the quest for the Philosopher’s Stone, and the following year he dispatched Herbach to Amsterdam to negotiate with the famous alchemist Johann Glauber who was willing to sell certain alchemical secrets to the king. Preserved correspondence from Herbach to the king reveals that this included a method to produce aurum potabile at a price of 1,000 ducates and a technique that, according to Glauber, would allow one to produce one extra ducate from 100 ducates in the course of three hours. Glauber demanded 200 ducates to reveal this technique to the king. Herbach was particularly impressed with this latter offer and the king gave instructions to Herbach to buy what he deemed reasonable provided that Glauber was to be trusted. It is uncertain whether a deal was struck. Professor of chemistry Ole Borch (1626–1690) described how King Frederik III on one occasion personally worked in the laboratory, with Borch as assistant. The king produced potable gold by braying some gold leaves in a mortar until they turned into a dark powder. The powder was then distilled in a glass

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retort resulting in a red liquid not unlike wine. The liquid was placed in the sun to evaporate and this finally resulted in a greenish salt to be used as an ingredient in a potion.

Giuseppe Francesco Borri in Copenhagen

A host of influential members of society, some of them advisors to the king, were similarly occupied by alchemy. Thus, many a manor housed a chemical laboratory. When Ole Borch in 1661 had made contact with the Italian alchemist Giuseppe Francesco Borri (1627–1695) in Amsterdam, the nobleman Erik Rosenkrantz of Rosenholm made inquiries to Borri through Borch, stating that he was willing to pay a substantial amount in order to learn Borri’s techniques. Valdemar Daa of Borreby in 1681 lost his manor and entire estate at least partly due to his vain investment in the art of transmutation. Large-scale alchemy was as expensive as ever, and besides the costs of equipment and raw materials the many ovens of the laboratories demanded advanced heating techniques with substances often being boiled for months at a time. Thus, in the year of 1650 the alchemical ovens in the castle of Gottorp consumed no less than 1375 tons of charcoal. Borri was rumoured to be able to mint ducates from his chymical gold, and when he offered Borch such a coin, word quickly spread to Denmark. While in Amsterdam, Borri was visited by Ulrik Frederik Gyldenløve, son of King Frederik III and from 1664 governor of Norway, and Hannibal Sehested, Lord Treasurer. Even the anatomist Niels Stensen (Steno) made Borri’s acquaintance, and by 1663 plans were set in motion to try to bring him to Copenhagen. In 1666 Borri finally travelled to Denmark and met with the king. News of his arrival resounded in the newspapers with great expectations as to what riches the chymistry of Borri would result in. It is not clear whether the king expected Borri to transmute base metals into gold or rather sought his expert advice on extracting gold from Norwegian ores, i.e., continuing the work of Casper Herbach who had died in 1664. Borri began work in the laboratory in Copenhagen Castle, but soon had a laboratory building constructed near Rosenborg Castle. It was quickly nicknamed The Gold House, not just because of the work to be carried out in it, but also due to the costs of building it, to which end the king levied no less than 300 soldiers to assist the builders. A controversial figure and a favourite of the king, Borri was soon met with envy even at court and when Frederik III died in 1670 he left the country within days [see also the chapter on Hermeticism in Denmark in the present volume].

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Alchemy in the Eighteenth Century

The new king, Christian V (1646–1699, r. 1670–1699), was less keen on alchemy than his father, but alchemists still found easy access to the Danish court well into the eighteenth century. The son of Christian V, the future King Frederik IV (1671–1730, r. 1699–1730), even visited the by now captive Borri in Rome in 1692. The same year in Copenhagen King Christian V had been part of an alchemist’s audience in the Queen’s quarters witnessing a transformation of mercury into silver, seemingly done without deceit, as the king noted in his diary. In 1708 an Italian count, Grimaldi, arrived in Copenhagen professing that he could make gold. He was immediately hired by King Frederik IV who promised him the princely salary of 3,000 thalers per year, but within a year he was jailed, presumably for having deceived the king. Yet another Italian, Maldini, in 1723 presented himself to the king promising to make gold from lead. He, too, was immediately taken into the king’s service and placed in the laboratory of Rosenborg Castle. Being unable, however, to fulfil his promise, he was dismissed little over a year later. The general and Privy Councillor Christian Ditlev Reventlow also occupied himself with alchemy. In 1707 he persuaded King Frederik IV to reward the German alchemist Johann Konrad Dippel (aka Christianus Democritus, 1673– 1734) with the honorary title of Councillor (kancelliråd) and in 1714 he invited Dippel to live in the Danish city of Altona. Dippel fell from grace, too, but this was not due to his alchemical activities but rather on account of his radical religious views and the charges of defamation levelled against him. For this reason he was imprisoned in 1719 with his publications to be burnt by the hangman. In 1726 Dippel was released and he left Denmark. Yet another alchemist from this period was Christian Gaulcke (d. 1737), royal physician to King Christian VI (1699–1746, r. 1730–1746). Eventually, however, the belief in both the transmutation of metals and in the existence of a single drug that could cure all diseases waned as the eighteenth century drew to a close. The attraction of the occult sciences, however, did not entirely disappear from the royal circles, and the “immortal” Count of Saint-Germain, renowned alchemist of unknown nationality, in 1779 found a patron in Landgrave Charles of HesseCassel, son-in-law to King Christian VII (1749–1808, r. 1766–1808) and Danish governor in Schleswig-Holstein. Saint-Germain lived on the governor’s estate, initiating him into the secrets of transmutation and the manufacture of arcana until the count’s death in 1784. In 1783 the Copenhagen chemist J.D. Cappel was the centre of much attention because of his claims to have extracted gold from pure silver using a treatment involving arsenic. Cappel did not try to conceal his method, allowing for other chemists to repeat his experiments which led to the conclusion

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that the small quantities of gold stemmed from the arsenic and not the silver. The fact that Cappel did not try to shroud his result in a veil of secrecy can be taken as a sign that traditional alchemy and the transmutation of metals had lost its general appeal in Denmark outside certain initiatory societies. Within these, such as Der Orden des Gold- und Rosenkreuzes, alchemy continued to play an important part well into the nineteenth century. This can also be seen from the collection of alchemical manuscripts at the archives of the Danish Order of Freemasons in Copenhagen. Finally, there appears to have been a minor renaissance for alchemy at the end of the nineteenth and early twentieth century, involving people such as the occultist Carl William Hansen (aka Ben Kadosh) who was in contact with the Swedish writer August Strindberg.

References

Christianson, John Robert, On Tycho’s Island: Tycho Brahe and his Assistants, 1570–1601, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Fink-Jensen, Morten, “Ole Borch mellem naturlig magi og moderne naturvidenskab”, Historisk Tidsskrift 100 (2000), 35–68. ———. “Paracelsus og Danmark. Medicin og teologi i 1500- og 1600-tallet”, in: Charlotte Appel et al. (eds.), Mentalitet og historie, Ebeltoft: Skippershoved, 2002, 95–118. ——— . Fornuften under troens lydighed. Naturfilosofi, medicin og teologi i Danmark 1536–1636, Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 2004. Fjelstrup, August, Guldmagere i Danmark i det XVII. Aarhundrede, Copenhagen: V. Pio’s Boghandel, 1906. ——— . Dr. Peter Payngk. Kong Kristian IV’s Hofkemiker, Copenhagen: A. Gieses Eftf., 1911. Limbeck, Sven, “Paracelsus in einer Frühneuzeitlichen Historiensammlung. Die Rhap­ sodia vitae Theophrasti Paracelsi von Peter Payngk”, in: Joachim Telle (ed.), Analecta Paracelsica. Studien zum Nachleben Theophrast von Hohenheims im deutschen Kultur­ gebiet der frühen Neuzeit, Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 1994, 1–58. Ræder, Hans, Elis Strömgren and Bengt Strömgren (eds.), Tycho Brahe’s Description of his Instruments and Scientific Work as given in Astronomiae Instauratae Mechanica (1598), Copenhagen: The Royal Danish Academy of Sciences and Letters, 1946. Schepelern, H.D., Olai Borrichii Itinerarium 1660–1665. The Journal of the Danish Polyhistor Ole Borch I–IV, Copenhagen: The Danish Society of Language and Literature, 1983. Werlauff, E.C., “Efterretninger om Italieneren J.F. Borro’s Ophold ved det danske Hof i Aarene 1667–1670”, in: J.D. Herholdt and F.V. Mansa (eds.), Samlinger til den Danske Medicinal-Historie, Vol. 1, Copenhagen: Gyldendal, 1835, 152–192.

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Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Alchemy in Finland Tomas Mansikka There are apparently no sources from the seventeenth century or before that can document the existence of practicing alchemists in Finland. However, as chemistry, physics, and medicine were seen within the broader framework of a natural philosophy that was informed by alchemical principles, discussions and expositions regarding alchemical doctrines are nevertheless present in dissertations from the era. Alchemical views were transmitted by, e.g., Daniel Sennert (1572–1637), a renowned author who was frequently cited by scholars at the Academy of Turku (Sw. Åbo). Alchemy, as the art of transmutation including chrysopoeia, i.e., producing gold from base metals, but also technologies of metals and minerals more generally, interested many learned people during the century. Dissertations on natural magic, which depended on works such as Giambattista Porta’s De magia naturalis (1558), not only suggested that it was possible to transmute base metals into gold, but also insisted that this was a fully legitimate undertaking. Hence, the art of transmutation was not seen as an illegitimate art, but as part of natural philosophy. Among notable people familiar with alchemy or alchemical literature, the bishops Carl Fredrik Mennander (1712–1786) and Jakob Gadolin (1719–1802) should be mentioned. Mennander was the owner of the largest private library in Finland in the eighteenth century, including an impressive collection of alchemical literature. Works by alchemical authors such as Artephius, Kenelm Digby, Daniel Stolcius, and Bernhard Trevisanus are represented in the library’s catalogue, as are various collections of alchemical tractates. In 1773, Mennander commented on two alchemically-related issues in the earliest (and then recently founded) newspaper in Finland, Tidningar Utgifne af et Sällskap i Åbo: one concerning Lars Roberg’s and Johannes Franck’s disputations on alchemy, the other on the publishing of Daniel Achrelius’ Contemplationes mundi (1680), a seminal work that challenged the scholastic tradition and introduced alchemical views derived from the Paracelsian tradition. Mennander’s attitude to alchemy was not wholeheartedly sympathetic, even though he apparently believed in alchemical transmutations. Mennander’s interest in alchemical matters could evidently be dated to the early 1730s during his stay in Uppsala within the circle of Carl von Linné, which included the ichtyologist and alchemist Petrus Artedi (1705–1735), a pupil of Roberg and preserver of Franck’s

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alchemical writings. An equally vast collection of alchemical literature is represented in the library of Gadolin, containing works by Paracelsus and authors inspired by him, as well as texts by Eirenaeus Philalethes, Georg Ripley, and Basilius Valentinus. Mennander’s and Gadolin’s interest should, however, primarily be viewed as the privilege of the learned to discuss and collect books on issues of science, natural philosophy, and religion.

Alchemical Practices

Documentation of alchemical practices can be found in the early eighteenth century after the Great Nordic War 1713–1721, notably among learned individuals and noblemen on private estates and within manor culture and life. In the aftermath of the war, this culture was significantly influenced by returning soldiers from the Carolingian army, a great majority of whom had converted to Pietistic doctrines. Within this emerging religious and cultural milieu, marked by early eighteenth-century utilitarianism, alchemical practices and speculations seem to have been a not uncommon feature. In some cases, these practices were also passed on as family heritages into the late eighteenth century, a period marked by a renewed interest in alchemical and mystical doctrines. Thus, among the Finnish-born Baron Gustav Adolph Reuterholm’s (1756–1813) manuscripts one finds both alchemical theories linked with kabbalistic and magical procedures and recipes for transmuting gold from lead. Reuterholm’s father, Esbjörn Reuterholm (1710–1773), was rumoured to have been skilled in alchemy as well. Alchemical ideas are present also in, e.g., the theories and practices of the magician Gustav Björnram (1745–1801). Among early eighteenth-century alchemists, the two brothers Carl Fredrik Nordenskjöld (1702–1779) and Magnus Otto Nordenberg (1705–1756) stand out. The brothers had studied the natural sciences at the University of Uppsala during the war, and after their return to their family estates in Finland they became engaged in various projects that aimed to improve the wealth of the country. Both brothers were interested in prophetic and alchemical speculations, with Nordenskjöld especially fascinated by the former and Nordenberg involved with the latter. In the years 1725–1728, Nordenberg travelled in Holland and other European countries, and studied at the universities of Leyden and Saardam, where he presumably became acquainted with alchemy. In 1735, he experienced an illumination which he tried to develop in writings and in practice. In the early 1740s, after a series of unfortunate political and military misfortunes, Nordenberg, who was now commander of the Häme Castle (Sw. Tavastehus slott), was arrested first by the Russian and then by Swedish rulers,

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accused by the former of espionage and by the latter of laying down his arms. Nordenberg was granted amnesty in 1752 and spent the last four years of his life at the family estates, immersing himself in philosophical and alchemical works. Nordenberg’s alchemy is distinctly coloured by Biblical and millenarian ideas. It is primarily a spiritual alchemy, aiming at an enlightenment which is expressed as the attainment of Urim and Thummin, that is, the visible and spiritual lights of creation. The art being ultimately a gift from God, requiring from its practitioners a mind cleared from darkness, Nordenberg believed that the Philosopher’s Stone might be attained through a series of regenerations/ calcinations with gold, which thus would regenerate to Urim. Alchemy is here a restoring of nature to its first principles, by penetrating into the inwardness of the fallen nature of materia secunda. The symbolism of Urim and Thummin seems to have been common within mystical speculation and secret societies in the early eighteenth century. Nordenberg himself hinted at the existence of an Urim society in St. Petersburg, into which he allegedly had been initiated. A symbolic and mystical use of Urim and Thummin is also found among the radical pietists, e.g., Erik Erikson, and later in the century in the magical symbolism in the society of Metatron (Häll 1995; Lekeby 2010).

August Nordenskjöld

The heritage of millenarianism and alchemy was carried on by Nordenskjöld’s sons, especially August Nordenskjöld (1754–1792), who together with two other brothers, Carl Fredrik Jr. and Ulrik, also became adherents of Emanuel Swedenborg (1688–1772). August Nordenskjöld was born in Sipoo (Sw. Sibbo) in Southern Finland at the family estate of Eriksnäs. After education at the Academy of Turku, Nordenskjöld moved to Stockholm in 1772 where he studied the science of mining at the Bergskollegium (Swedish Board of Mines). During this period Nordenskjöld became familiar with Swedenborg’s teachings and established contacts with Swedenborgians such as G.A. Beyer in Gothenburg. After completing his studies in 1779, Nordenskjöld set off for London where he, under the patronage of a wealthy physician by the name of Gumpertz Levison, aimed at publishing an alchemical treatise with the title A Plain System of Alchymy. The project was, however, interrupted after the first sixteen printed pages, because Levison suggested that the theory should be kept secret and that Nordenskjöld rather than publishing a book should offer his alchemical services to King Gustavus III. The proposal was approved by the king and Nordenskjöld returned to Stockholm, after Levison had set off in

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advance to negotiate with the king. A preparatory precaution may be seen in Nordenskjöld’s dedication of his planned alchemical treatise to the chemist Torbern Bergman, who in turn had given a letter of recommendation to Nordenskjöld to take with him to London. The king conversely had asked the Mason and mystic C.A. Plommenfelt about his opinion on Nordenskjöld, which was fairly favourable. Nordenskjöld’s unpredicted turn to alchemy caused rumours and intrigues that were to continue for the years to come. A laboratory was set up in Drottningholm in Stockholm where experiments were carried out until 1784. In 1785–1787 Nordenskjöld worked in a laboratory set up at Uusikaupunki (Swe. Nystad) in Finland, and from 1788 to 1790 the alchemical project was once again set in motion at Drottningholm. Although Nordenskjöld spent years of labour on his alchemical practice, he was reduced to poverty as the financial means offered him were minimal. From the period in Uusikaupunki onwards, Nordenskjöld had enlisted the collaboration of Carl Fredrik Bergklint (1763– 1824), a surveyor from Helsinki, who for most of the time carried out the actual laboratory work, as Nordenskjöld was busy with various Swedenborgian projects. In the late 1780s, Finnish supervisor Count Adolph Fredrik Munck attempted to enlist Bergklint’s services, but in vain, as Bergklint remained dedicated to his master. Nordenskjöld’s alchemical theory is summed up in a series of writings, most notably in An Address to the True Members of the New Jerusalem Church (1789). Nordenskjöld’s alchemy is distinctly influenced by classical alchemical authors such as Jean d’Espagnet, Michael Sendivogius, and Eirenaeus Philalethes. What is new is the natural philosophy of Swedenborg that provides the overall backdrop, discreetly conveyed in A Plain System but openly in the Address. The alchemical goal is to generate the Philosopher’s Stone from pure gold by regulating the fire: ‘Gold may be so opened in the Furnace as to discover its two-fold and it’s three-fold Principles, and how to put them into Action, in Order to accomplish its Perfection’ (Address § xxiv). Nordenskjöld held an especially high opinion of Philalethes, an author who, however, had only revealed the road to salvation regarding the natural realm, while Swedenborg had revealed the corresponding path regarding the spiritual realm. Nordenskjöld was likewise inspired by Nordenberg’s illumination and theory and by the idea of a new order which, according to Swedenborg, had been inaugurated in 1757 in the spiritual realm. This new order entailed a progression toward a pristine state that, in Nordenskjöld’s view, would finally allow the alchemical work to succeed. Nordenskjöld concludes his Address by stating: ‘At length I must declare that I have not this Knowledge of myself, but from another, who died in 1756 in Finland, and who had obtained this Science by a supernatural Way.

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The same had even Revelations concerning the Last Judgement, that was to take Place in 1757, and concerning the New Church of the LORD that was to be established afterwards’ (Address § XLI). Nordenskjöld’s combination of alchemy and Swedenborgianism was not, however, generally approved of, but was criticised by rival alchemists as well as by orthodox Swedenborgians. Hence, the first person he collaborated with in the alchemical work, the Swedenborgian Christian Johanssén (1746–1813), strongly rejected Nordenskjölds views, and most other alchemists attached to the court in the 1780s regarded his theory with suspicion. Nordenskjöld also faced growing concerns and disillusionment concerning his commitment and nominal financial support. As the expectations put on him as a royal alchemist ultimately was to bring wealth to the Royal House, Nordenskjöld actually believed that a successful transmutation would result in a collapse of the existing political orders, as they were based on the “tyranny of money”. Like Philalethes, Nordenskjöld regarded himself ultimately as a harbinger for a new approaching order, the primitive church or the New Jerusalem.

Alchemy in Radical Pietism

The pietistic culture fostered alchemical modes of thinking as evidenced, for instance, in the writings of Jakob Böhme and in the impact of the alchemist and radical pietist Johann Konrad Dippel (1673–1734). The early eighteenthcentury Finnish radical pietist Peter Schäfer (1662–1729), for instance, articulated alchemically-flavoured millenarian views, as did Jakob Wallenberg (1756–1799/1800) at the end of the century. A curious episode involving alchemy and prophetic mission is connected to Jakob Wallenberg, founder of a religious movement in the late eighteenth century in the Finnish province of Ostrobothnia. Wallenberg, who presented himself as a prophet and harbinger of the approaching millennium, claimed that he had extraordinary gifts, including that of making gold. The movement had permanent financial problems that Wallenberg attempted to remedy by transforming granite stones into gold, by heating the stones in a pot. The outcome was unsuccessful, and Wallenberg blamed the failure on his adherents’ infidelity. After the group, now reduced to only ten people, had moved to Wallenberg’s home district of Ylihärmä, Wallenberg made a new claim: a quantity of stones, filled in a coffin, would be transformed into gold if they were moved to the city of Vaasa (Sw. Vasa), some fifty kilometres away. The transmutation would take place during the journey and, on arrival, the stones could be passed on to a goldsmith who could certify their authenticity. With the money

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they would get from selling the gold the followers could not only buy provisions, but also purchase luxury items. Three men accepted the laborious task of transporting the coffin to its destination. When twenty kilometres remained, they decided to take a glimpse into the coffin to check whether the transmutation had been accomplished. No change was visible, but they decided that some of the stones should be removed, allowing two of the men to continue to Vaasa and one to stay behind and wait. When they arrived in the city, they let the local goldsmith examine their cargo. When they were told that the coffin still contained nothing but stones, they decided to throw the coffin into the river and return home to confront Wallenberg. While the men were away, Wallenberg had received a prophetic illumination. He had been informed of the vanity of luxury, doomsday was approaching and gold and luxuries were no longer needed. The movement’s early phase with Wallenberg as leader ended shortly after this incident, as Wallenberg was imprisoned.

Summary

As we have seen, the presence of alchemy and alchemical modes of thinking in eighteenth-century culture was connected to a variety of systems and approaches. The classical tradition of alchemy was, in its closing stages, to a large extent still attuned to eighteenth-century common sense and popular thinking. A vitalistic worldview, being essential in alchemy, was intrinsic in manuals such as Bonde-Praktikan (The Farmer’s Practice), in popular devotional books such as Johann Arndt’s Four Books on True Christianity as well as in the works of Jakob Böhme and his followers. Thus, alchemical views could enter into the pietistic and religious thinking of the era, with such consequences as the world-view of religious leader Jakob Wallenberg. Even more easily, alchemy could amalgamate with eighteenth-century magical and millenarian approaches, including Swedenborg’s doctrines, as witnessed by the magical subculture of the 1780s.

References

Akiander, Matthias, Historiska Upplysningar om Religiösa rörelserna i Finland i äldre och senare tider IV, Helsingfors: J. Simelii arfingar, 1860. Ambjörnsson, Ronny, “Den sista striden: Om en svensk pacifist från 1600-talet”, Lychnos (1979–1980), 20–78.

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Bodman, Gösta, “August Nordenskjöld, en Gustav III:s alkemist”, Lychnos (1943), 189–229. Cajander, Carl Alexander, Kullantekijöitä Uudessakaupungissa, Uusikaupunki: Julkaisija, 1929. Edvard, Adolf Arppe, Anteckningar om finska alkemister (Bidrag till kännedom af Fin­ lands natur och folk 16), Helsingfors: Finska litteratur-sällskapets tryckeri, 1870. Häll, Jan, I Swedenborgs labyrint, Stockholm: Atlantis, 1995. Kallinen, Maija, Change and Stability: Natural Philosophy at the Academy of Turku (1640– 1713), Helsinki: Shs, 1995. ———. “Naturens hemliga krafter. Daniel Achrelius’ Contemplationes mundi”, Historisk Tidskrift för Finland 3, 76 (1991), 317–346. Lekeby, Kjell, Gustaviansk mystik, Sala/Södermalm: Vertigo förlag, 2010. Mennander, C.F., Bibliotheca Caroli Frider. Mennander, Uppsala: Johann. Edman, 1788. Nordenskjöld, August, “An Address to the True Members of the New Jerusalem Church”, in: Marsha Keith Schuchard, “The Secret Masonic History of Blake’s Swedenborg Society”, Blake: An Illustrated Quarterly 26 (1992), 48–51. ——— . A Plain System of Alchymy. London, 1779. Tidningar Utgifne af et Sällskap i Åbo. N:o 8 (30 April 1773).

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Chapter 3

Alchemy in Norway Gina Dahl

Alchemy and the Shortage of Testimonies

Knowledge of the art of alchemy in Norway was restricted to the upper and upper middle classes. In this respect, Norwegian society prior to 1800 shows a particular lacuna: due to the successive unions with Sweden and Denmark, Norwegian educational institutions that could engender a higher number of learned societies, and hence milieus with esotericist interests, came to be situated in Denmark. Apart from medieval monasteries, Cathedral/ Latin Schools, and an upper secondary school in Christiania which only existed for a few years, almost all higher education took place on Danish soil. As a result of these circumstances, there were no broad-scale, learned societies with alchemical interests in Norway. And although alchemy must have been known to at least some of the medieval intellectuals, there is no testimony to confirm that the art was practised in Norway in the Middle Ages. In the early modern period, however, the number of people interested in alchemy increased, and many of these, like most exponents of esotericism in Norway prior to 1800, were part of the growing number of official representatives, physicians and, above all, apothecaries. These skilled professionals gradually appeared on Norwegian soil from the seventeenth century onwards, due to the government’s increased focus on health care. The link between esotericism and the medical curriculum is by no means unique to Norway. Norwegian scholars, however, seem to have been receptive to influences from two core countries in particular, namely Germany and the Netherlands: these countries were important to education as well as for book imports. Due to the shortage of written testimonies, and the lack of research in the field, it is difficult to know in what way those people interested in, or practising, alchemy in Norway in the early period interpreted this art. To many, alchemy seems by and large to have constituted a natural part of the period’s scientific curriculum: in fact, the majority of those known as esotericists in the Norwegian context were physicians, which simply mirrors the integral part played by esotericist currents in the period’s natural philosophy. Some, naturally, interpreted the art in a more radical spiritual way, although we do not necessarily know very much about their metaphysical speculations, due to the

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shortage of sources and the small number of studies undertaken in this field. Overall, however, most adherents of alchemy may have been most interested in pharmacology or in bringing about metallic transmutation by means of, for instance, the Philosopher’s Stone.

Alchemy and Apothecaries

The majority of the people who we know practised alchemy in Norway prior to 1800 were apothecaries. The first privilege to establish a pharmacy was granted in 1595, and in the early phase of the business, many medications, as well as herbs and spices, were imported from abroad. Later on, however, the production of compounds was often undertaken in laboratories attached to the pharmacies. Some reports on these laboratories have been passed down from eyewitnesses: the German-born physician Otto Sperling, for instance, who served as a physician in Bergen in the seventeenth century, reportedly visited a laboratory where the apothecary prepared his medicamenta chymica. Another seventeenth-century apothecary conducting alchemy in his laboratory was Arnoldus von Westen, a Danish-born apothecary who was granted the privilege to establish a pharmacy in Trondheim in 1680. Von Westen also had access to a number of Paracelsian books, which he apparently used in his pharmacological endeavours. Several of the apothecaries were former students of chemistry: the apothecary Johan Julius von Strachen (1677–1748) in Trondheim, for instance, was reportedly a “great Chymicus”, as was Andreas Thue (1703– 1751), a Norwegian-born apothecary in Fredrikstad. At the beginning of his career, Thue, the author of the work Descriptio salis culinaris vulgaris ejusque eks. chymicum, was reportedly only interested in gold-making, which he only abandoned after causing a great fire that threatened to burn down the entire city. A Christiania apothecary, Hans Jochum Scharff (1649?-1703?), was also engaged in iatrochemical pharmacy, and his library contained a range of alchemical/ chemical textbooks which attest to his interests, such as Johann Baptist van Helmont’s Ortus medicinae, Johan Jackob Wecker’s Antidotarium generale, Johannes Schröder’s Pharmacopoeia medico chymica, Johan Zwelfer’s Pharmacopoeia augustana, Angelo Sala’s Spagyrische Schatz Kamer, Oswald Croll’s Basilica chymica, Jean Beguin’s Tyrocinium chymicum, Martin Ruland the Elder’s Progymnasmata alchymiae and Johann Hartmann’s Practica chymiatrica. Scharff’s library also included a work on the Philosopher’s Stone (Opera mineralia sive de lapide philosophorum) and the work Antimon triumphans, probably written by Johann Thölde. Scharff, however, seems to have taken a

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particular interest in Paracelsian cosmology and theology, which is how he gained a reputation as a Paracelsian-inspired radical spiritualist.

Alchemy and Physicians: Olsen, Bonsac, and Kempe

Physicians in Norway were also familiar with the spagyric art, either on account of personal interest or by necessity: as physicians were obliged by law to inspect apothecaries, they where required to have at least some acquaintance with pharmaceutical medicine. At least one of them, the Bergen physician Hans Olsen (1607–1684), had practised alchemy at various European courts. Apart from what is written about Olsen in Gottfried Arnold’s Unpartheyische Kirchenund Ketzer-Historie (the Frankfurt edition of 1729), the main testimony to Olsen’s career was his autobiography, which was included in Paul Brandt’s tribute to Olsen, published in Amsterdam in 1685 (Beatissimus manibus et aeternae memoriae viri sancti et venerabili Dn Johannis Olsonii). According to this biography, Olsen was born in Bergen in 1607, and after having attended the Bergen Latin School for a couple of years, he was sent to Copenhagen University. Olsen finished his studies in Copenhagen in 1628, and he then returned to Norway to work as a private tutor. After this interlude, Olsen took up a more bohemian career: he travelled throughout Belgium, England, and the Netherlands, and while staying in the Netherlands he made contact with two other natural philosophers with esotericist preferences, namely Ole Borch and Francesco Giuseppe Borri. After Borri had established himself in the chemical laboratory in Copenhagen through the support of Frederik III, Olsen was sent for due to his knowledge of alchemical processes: one of the important tasks of the laboratory was gold-making (chrysopoeia), as it sought to transform Norwegian silver into gold. After having served at the chemical laboratory in Copenhagen, Olsen was appointed medicus in Bergen, a position he held until his death. It is hard to assess from what angle Olsen himself viewed alchemy, as there is scant information about this topic in his short biography. What we do know is that Olsen was profoundly inspired by the mystical tradition: Olsen translated Hugh of Palma’s Mysticus libellus and John the Evangelist’s Regnum Dei intra nos into Danish. Olsen also translated Augustine’s Manuale and Soliloquia, books which also incorporated passages from Anselm, Bernhard, and Hugh of St. Victor. Olsen also translated Francis Rous’ The Heavenly Academie into Danish. Olsen was opposed to what he saw as abuses of power by the church, and added a rather apocalyptical preface to some of his books. What is also attested by Paul Brandt, Olsen’s friend and co-physician in Bergen, is Olsen’s vivid interest in the writings of Paracelsus and Jacob Boehme, which could

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indicate that his views on the functions of alchemy might have been coloured by Paracelsus’ theology or by Boehme’s theosophy. According to Brandt, Olsen read Boehme daily, and he reportedly healed the Bergen population by “the powers of Salt”. Olsen is, additionally, said to have translated one of Boehme’s writings into Danish, but this manuscript was unfortunately lost after Olsen’s death. Olsen was not the only physician practising in Norway who had first-hand knowledge of alchemy; so did the physicians Anders Kempe and Henrik Jochumsen Bonsac. Kempe (1622–1689), who was born in Sweden, had learned alchemy from his tutor Mattias Drakenstjerna. Very soon, however, Kempe met with problems due to his radical spiritual claims, and he therefore settled as a physician in Verdalen in mid-Norway. In Verdalen, Kempe set up his own laboratory, but after only a short period of time, he was exiled from Norway due to his radical spiritualist theology and what was perceived as anti-Church propaganda: by a royal decree issued in 1674, Christian V made it illegal to possess or read Kempe’s heretical works, on pain of death. Kempe eventually settled in Hamburg, where he continued to publish books in German, Norwegian, and Swedish. Henrik Jochumsen Bonsac, a physician who practised in Christiania in the early eighteenth century before leaving for Copenhagen and eventually East India, was also apparently highly interested in alchemy, or at least in the Philosopher’s Stone: Bonsac was the author of Tractatus chymicus de lapide philosophico, a manuscript which Christopher Hammer (1720–1804), a natural scientist, governmental official and Freemason, sought to have published. Hammer was for a while highly interested in alchemy, as well as in the Kabbalah, and he wrote down his kabbalistic speculations, some of which dealt with the construction of Solomon’s temple, in the preface to his Bible. The Paracelsianinspired physician, astrologer, and lecturer at the Christiania upper secondary school Ambrosius Rhodius (1605–1696), also possessed a substantial number of alchemical works written by authors such as the Arab Geber, Thomas Aquinas, Jean Beguin, Johann van Helmont, Johannes Hartmann, Oswald Croll, Martin Ruland the Elder, Lazarus Zetzner, and Quercetanus.

Alchemy and Physicians: Woldenberg, Blumenthal, and Dons

Apart from these people, there is evidence that several other physicians also had first-hand knowledge of alchemy, although it is not certain how they perceived the art, or even if they themselves practised it. This fact is supported by a study of books owned by three physicians practising across Norway, namely Jacob Woldenberg, Georg Blumenthal, and Poul Dons. Woldenberg, who was

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born in Copenhagen in the mid-seventeenth century, was the twelfth stadsmedicus to reside in Bergen. After having spent some time studying in Kiel, Woldenberg received his PhD at the University of Copenhagen in 1679. He then joined the Danish army as a physician, and in 1686 he was appointed botanicus in Norway. Between 1686 and 1687, Woldenberg served as a physician in the mining town of Kongsberg, and in 1688 he was appointed physician in Bergen, a position he held until his death in 1735. Although Woldenberg must have practised surgery during his period in the army, he had trained as a physician, and he defined himself as a healer of internal diseases. What seems clear from Woldenberg’s collection of books is that he was profoundly interested in alchemy, as quite a few books fall into this category: his library included Johann van Helmont’s Ortus medicinae and the work Aufgang der Artzney-Kunst, first edited in 1683 by Christian Knorr von Rosenroth; this latter book, however, is a German translation of Helmont’s Ortus medicinae. Oswald Croll is represented with his Basilica chymica, and Jean Beguin with his Tyrocinium chymicum, a work that spread with remarkable rapidity across Europe. Zetzner’s Theatrum chemicum, an anthology of previous authorities within the domain of alchemy, is also there, as is Antimon triumphans. Other works on alchemy include Angelo Sala’s Vincentini medici spagyrici tractatus duo, Johann Hartmann’s Practica chymiatrica and Hadrianus Mynsicht’s The­ sau­rus et armamentarium medico-chymicum. In addition to several works attrib­uted to Daniel Sennert and Petrus Poterius, Johan Schröder is represented with his Pharmacopaeia as well as his Quercetanus redivivius, hoc est ars medica dogmatico-hermetica. Georg Henrich Blumenthal, another physician practising in Norway, was born in Germany in 1687. Blumenthal started his studies in surgery in Lunen­ burg at the age of seventeen, and three years later he left for Bremen. Thereafter he worked as a surgeon on ships hunting whales off the shores of Greenland. In 1710, Blumenthal settled in Denmark to serve as a surgeon to the navy, and he continued to be promoted into new positions: Blumenthal matriculated at the University of Copenhagen in 1725, he was created licentiatus medicinae in 1726, and he obtained a doctorate in medicine in 1733 with the disputation Disp. medica inaug. sistens aegrum haemorrhagia ventriculi spontanea gravissima correptum. From 1736 and until his death in 1742, Blumenthal practised as a physician in Kongsberg, a mining district in the eastern part of Norway which must have been greatly in need of a skilled surgeon. Blumenthal’s book collection also reveals that its owner must have had a certain knowledge of alchemy: his library includes works such as Zetner’s Pharmacopoeia augustana and van Helmont’s Ortus medicinae. One of the works on alchemy is accredited to Martin Ruland the Elder, who engaged in the contemporary debate on the

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Philosopher’s Stone, and Quercetanus, originally Joseph Duchesne, a Calvinist Paracelsian, is also represented. Of newer iatrochemical works it is worth noting Pyrosophia, succinte atque breviter iatro-chemiam, written by the chemistry professor Johann Conrad Barchusen, and there are other iatrochemical works attributed to Michael Ettmüller and Johann Mauritz Hoffmann. Poul Dons (1689–1748), a second-generation Dane, practised as a physician in the city of Trondheim, the fifth city to be given an officially appointed physicus after the cities of Bergen, Christiania, Kristiansand, and Kongsberg. Dons started studying at the Trondheim Latin School in 1706, and continued as a medical student in Denmark by joining Ehler’s Collegium from 1710–1711 and Borch’s Collegium from 1711–1715, followed by a period serving as assistant medicus at Kvæsthuset. After ending his studies, Dons was appointed physician in Trondheim, although he had not obtained his doctorate. Dons’ appointment, however, proved to be only the first step in a stellar career in the city administration: Dons was appointed vice-mayor in 1730 and mayor of Trondheim in 1733. Later on, Dons was appointed presiding judge, but kept his position as stadsmedicus. There is little historical evidence of how Dons practised as a physician. Only in one case is he reported to have supervised surgeons in conducting an autopsy. His books, however, indicate that their owner was acquainted with the alchemical art: the listed authors include Johann van Helmont, Daniel Sennert, de le Boë Sylvius, Paul Amman, Oswald Croll, and Johan Kunkel. There were also five volumes by Paracelsus, two iatrochemical works by Johan Schröder and works accredited to Joachim Becher, Martin Ruland the Elder, and Angelo Sala. Girolamo Cardano was represented with the work De subtilitate rerum, and there were also books by Johann Hartmann, Johann Rudolph Glauber, Hadrianus Mynsicht, and Zwelfer. Further works on alchemy also appear in Dons’ collection, for instance several works attributed to Athanasius Kircher and Urban Hiärne’s defence of Paracelsus. Given the circulation of books among physicians practicing in Norway, it seems likely that these officials were well acquainted with major European traditions in the alchemical art. And, on the basis of where books in this field were printed, it appears that knowledge of alchemy primarily originated from two main areas, Germany (Frankfurt and Leipzig) and the Netherlands (Leiden and Amsterdam).

Other Practitioners of Alchemy

That fact that people other than physicians and apothecaries could also engage in alchemy can be attested by a look at the career of the Greenland missionary

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Hans Egede (1686–1758). Egede was born in Trondenes in the far north of Norway, and after finishing his theological studies in Copenhagen at the age of twenty-one, he became vicar of Vågan in Lofoten. Egede, who was inspired by Pietist theology, quickly engaged himself in missionary work, and he saw Greenland as a particular object for his endeavours in this field. Egede moved to Bergen in 1718, making the city the point of departure for his future travels northwards. While in Bergen, Egede practised alchemy in an attempt to acquire money for his missionary project: Egede concentrated on producing the Philosopher’s Stone, a task which he believed would have granted him fame and fortune had it been successful. Egede reportedly first learned practical chemistry from an apothecary, and he followed this up by reading a range of alchemical books in minute detail but, as he himself admitted, he could not grasp their hieroglyphic symbolism. Although he was unsuccessful in his labours while living in Bergen, Egede continued to read alchemical treatises during his stay in Greenland: he sent for works on chemistry by more than sixty authors which he read with great eagerness. Although Egede did not manage to solve the enigma of the Philosopher’s Stone, the transmuting agent, he did not loose faith in it. Rather, he interpreted his alchemical failures as a sign of godly providence: it was God’s decision not to grant him insight into this illustrious art. Overall, it seems to have been mainly apothecaries and physicians who practised alchemy in Norway prior to 1800. Whereas some of them harboured radical spiritualist interests (Kempe, Olsen, Scharff), it remains uncertain how others interpreted the art, or even if they practised it at all. Given the various testimonies that do exist, however, it seems clear that several officials who worked with medicine or related topics in Norway in the early modern period were well acquainted with important alchemical traditions. This might, however, just reflect the importance of alchemy to the natural philosophical curriculum, a legacy which only slowly faded away in this northern periphery.

References

Borgen, Peder, “Johannes Olsonius – theosophus et medicus bergensis”, Norsk Teologisk Tidsskrift (1972), 27–54. Dahl, Gina, Questioning Religious Influence: Private Libraries of Clerics and Physicians in Norway 1650–1750, unpublished Dr. Art. dissertation, Bergen, 2007. ——— . Books in Early Modern Norway, Leiden: Brill, 2011.

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Elvestrand, Vegard, Generalkonduktør Christopher Hammer (1720–1804) og hans manu­ skript­s­amling. Registratur, biografi, slektshistorie, Trondheim: Universitets­bibioteket i Trondheim and Tapir Akademisk Forlag, 2004. Flood, Jørgen W., Norges Apothekere i 300 Aar, Kristiania: A.W Brøggers Bogtrykkeri, 1889. Johannessen, F.E. and J. Skeie, Bitre piller og sterke dråper. Norske apotek gjennom 400 år 1595–1995, Oslo: Norsk farmasihistorisk museum, 1995. Kragh, Helge (ed.), Natur, Nytte og Ånd, Aarhus: Aarhus universitetsforlag, 2005. Shackelford, Jole, “Hans Jochum Scharff: A Paracelsian Apothecary in 17th-Century Norway”, Norges Apotekerforenings Tidsskrift 95:9 (1987), 212–217. ——— . Paracelsianism in Denmark and Norway in the 16th and 17th Centuries, unpublished PhD dissertation, Wisconsin, 1989.

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Chapter 4

Alchemy in Sweden Carl-Michael Edenborg There are no sources documenting alchemical activities that can be dated to the Swedish Middle Ages. There probably were some such activities, as mining and metallurgy were of great importance: metal was a major export commodity. Mining and metallurgy attracted many foreign workers and experts who could have introduced alchemical theory and practice. Even if higher education was rare in Sweden (the first university was founded in 1477), there were many cloisters with monks and nuns who were sufficiently educated to have cultivated an interest in alchemy. The first known Swedish alchemist was Peder Månsson (d. 1534), a monk from Vadstena, head of the Birgittine house in Rome and the last Swedish Catholic bishop. In his manuscripts from his time in Rome 1514–1522 we find many transcripts of classical alchemical works, especially al-Jabir’s, as well as a translation of Rupescissa to Swedish, but no texts of his own. During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries there were many more alchemists in Sweden. In this period Sweden, through a series of wars and economic successes, developed from a newborn nation-state with a poorly developed intellectual culture into one of the foremost cultural nations of Europe. Among the Swedish alchemists there were a few individuals of whom we do not know much and who do not seem to have been part of any networks. Among these one can mention the nobleman Abraham Brahe (1569–1630), whose alchemical interests can be traced in marginal annotations in his library; similarly, we do not know much about the unhappy prince Gustav Eriksson Vasa (1568–1607), son of the murdered King Erik XIV, who during his exile in Prague dealt with alchemy and was called “the second Paracelsus”. Fortunately enough, many of the Swedish alchemists have left many traces and were also interested in communicating and collaborating with each other in networks, based on common ideas and pursuing common goals. Here, I will try to describe alchemy in Sweden via a series of such networks. (The statistical numbers are based on the close to eighty known alchemists active in Sweden during this period.)

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Seventeenth-Century Alchemists

During the seventeenth century, alchemy was of interest mainly for people working as medical doctors, pharmacists, metallurgists, and chemists. Most of the alchemists (approximately 80%) were commoners. For many of the Swedish seventeenth-century alchemists, the metallic mysticism with which they operated was an integrated part of a larger, Renaissance Platonic system that in a syncretistic way combined astrology, Kabbalah, theosophy, millenarism, and other influences, and that with Johann Amos Comenius’ word could be called “pansophy”. This philosophical background does not imply that alchemy in this context was a merely speculative endeavour; these people also worked practically in their laboratories. One of the most notable persons in early seventeenth-century Sweden was Johannes Bureus (1568–1652), known as the first Swedish antiquarian. Com­parable only with his two contemporary Swedish intellectuals Georg Stiernhielm (1598–1672) and Olaus Rudbeck (1630–1702) in scope and depth of his interests and ambitions, he did not manage to produce a summary of his thoughts; the larger part of his activities are documented in annotations. Bureus was a typical exponent of Renaissance Platonic syncretism: he combined the study of practical esotericism (magic, amulets, astrology, and alchemy) with an interest in theosophy, Kabbalah, Hermeticism, and chiliasm. In 1616 he answered the call of the Rosicrucians with a couple of short Latin texts. His most original contribution was trying to find and describe an old, Nordic Kabbalah based on runes, which included alchemical topics. He presented those ideas in the book Adulruna rediviva, which was published for the first time long after his death (see the chapter on Kabbalah in Sweden). The diaries that Bureus wrote between the years 1604 and 1629 allow us to follow his communication with other alchemists, his studies of alchemical classics (such as Aurora consurgens and Aureum vellus), and his laboratory practices (‘Tinctura producta est, quae à centro ad superficiem producitur et extrahitur, inveni 12 merid. 22 febr. 1612’. / ‘A Tincture is created, that is produced and extracted from the centre to the surface, I found it at noon, 22 February 1612’). He is also said to have performed alchemical experiments in the presence of King Gustavus Adolphus II. Bureus’ main goal, especially after an epiphany in 1613, was to show that all secret sciences and esoteric teachings were connected, that they had already been disclosed in hyperborean antiquity and that they foretold of the final days. Alchemy was an important albeit minor part of this system.

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Alchemy at the Universities

Alchemy was an art that demanded education. Among the teachers at the university at Uppsala during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries there were several alchemists who sometimes also defended the art in the form of disputations in the lecture halls. The man responsible for medical education in Uppsala between 1624 and 1661 was Johannes Franck (1590–1661). He was regarded as an eccentric person with his old-fashioned Gustaf Vasa-haircut, his soldier’s boots, and sabre. Because he attracted too few students to his lectures he often stood alone in the lecturing hall. Furthermore, he received criticism for not performing the autopsies his profession demanded; he defended himself with the argument that the mob shouted “hangman!” after him in the streets. Johannes Franck was raised in Stora Kopparberget together with his brother Matthias; their common alchemical interest may have been a legacy from their father. In 1669 the lieutenant Matthias Franck (who was raised to the nobility and took the name Drakenstierna, “Dragon Star”, which was obviously taken from alchemical symbolism), published the text Der philosophische Weg zu der wahren Materia wahrhafftiger Universal Medicin. He also became a part of popular fantasies in the region in the form of “The Black Franck” because of rumours of being involved in magic and alchemy. In 1629 Johannes Franck published the dissertation De transmutatione metallorum, theses hermetico-philosophicae (On the Transmutation of Metals, Hermetic-Philosophical Theses). This speech in defence of alchemy was probably written as an answer to criticism against alchemy that Franck’s colleague, the professor Johannes Chesnecopherus, had made a couple of years earlier, in his work De chrysopoeia. The second of Franck’s dissertations, De principiis constitutivis lapidis philosophici, theses hermeticae, was presented in 1645. Here, Franck teaches about sulphur and mercury, refers to classical alchemical authorities, such as Trevisanus, tells stories of transmutation and finishes with a couple of prophecies that he hopes can be interpreted as signs that the alchemical secrets would be revealed in Sweden in 1658, which in turn would lead to a messianic transmutation of the world. The most remarkable text Johannes Franck wrote was published in 1651: Colloquium philosophicum cum diis montanis. Despite the Latin title, this is a Swedish text, mostly a translation of a book by Töpfer but combined with a preface, a dedication to the Queen Christina, poems, and images. By publishing this book, Franck hoped to awaken the Queen’s interest in alchemy and at

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the same time teach it to the “common reader” so as to not only transmute metals but the whole world. Franck spent his last years in illness and poverty. When Franck dedicated his work to the queen, this may have been a quite reasonable gesture. Especially in her later days, Queen Christina (1627–1689) showed a passionate interest in alchemy. She worked practically and communicated with alchemists such as Glauber and Borri. The alchemical imposters Samuel and Christopher Forberger (father and son) also awakened her interest. Letters with alchemical recipes were found at her deathbed. Modern research has suggested that she did not only search for gold, health, and enlightenment in alchemy. Considerable evidence suggests that she hoped that the Philosopher’s Stone could help her change her gender; from her early years, she confessed feeling like a man in a female body.

Alchemy in the Eighteenth Century

“The father of Swedish chemistry”, Urban Hiärne (1641–1724), who played a major role in the abolishment of the witchcraft trials in Sweden 1676, was a member of Royal Society and managed to start a royal Laboratorium Chymicum in Stockholm. A great part of his activities was focused on useful innovations for the mining business; at the same time, he worked with practical and theoretical chemical research. Towards the end of his life he was increasingly inclined towards pietism. Most of his activities are documented in diaries and notebooks; unfortunately they are written in a very obscure handwriting. Urban Hiärne based his thinking on a vitalistic natural philosophy with Para­celsian and Neoplatonic features, and in 1709 he wrote a defence of Paracelsus. One of his teachers was the alchemist Laurentius Fredrik Peringer. In Hiärne’s texts we find a strong interest in the ‘acidum universale’ that according to Paracelsian teachings together with sulphur (or “fat”) constitutes all metals. One of the main purposes of the Laboratorium Chymicum was to compare new, experimental chemical research (in the Boylean tradition) with the ‘old and rightful Philosophorum and Hermeticorum scriptures’. In Stockholm, in the year 1707, a dramatic and well-known incident in the history of public transmutations occurred: the so-called Paijkull affair. The Livonian aristocrat Otto Arnold von Paijkull (1662–1707) was sentenced to death for treason after having fought the Swedish army despite of the fact that Livonia was part of Sweden. To save his life, he offered King Charles XII that he would produce 100,000 riksdaler a year by means of the Philosopher’s Stone. In prison, he allegedly performed a transmutation of lead into gold in front of witnesses. This did not mollify the king, who is said to have exclaimed: ‘Even if

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he transmutes half of Stockholm into gold, his head will roll’. On 4 February 1707, Paijkull was executed. 147 coins were made out of the gold Paijkull had produced in prison, each bearing the king’s portrait and the text ‘Hoc aurum arte chemica conflavit Holmiae Anno 1706 O.A.V. Paiykull’ / ‘O.A.V. Paijkul constructed this gold with chemical art in Stockholm, in the year 1708’. After the execution, Urban Hiärne wrote a text where he defended Paijkull and the alchemical art and complained that the only thing that counted in his times were gold and money: Intygande at sachsiska general lieutenanten Otto Arnold von Paykull wärkeligen warit en adeptus, eller kunnat gjöra guld (Attesting that the Saxon General Otto Arnold von Paykull really was an adept or was able to produce gold, first printed in 1757). A friend and student of Hiärne was the medical doctor and chemist Magnus Gabriel von Block (1669–1722). In 1708, Block published a book that strongly criticised astrology, prophecies, and magic, and attacked Paracelsus. This text and a couple of others that criticised common beliefs, have given many historians the idea that Block was an exponent of the Enlightenment. His Cartesian philosophy of nature was, however, strongly influenced by Hermeticism. In 1698 the young Swede communicated with the philosopher Leibniz, who told him not to deal with the uncertain art of gold-making, but added that he himself could not with certainty deny the possibility of transmutation. In 1701, Block took the doctor’s degree in Harderwijk with the disputation Scrutinium arsenici physico-chemico-medicum that contains purely alchemical parts that refer to the Polish alchemist Michael Sendivogius (1566–1636), where a poetical and almost erotic view of nature is presented. With sentences like ‘Matter and movement, Salt and Sol, heaven and earth, elementary water and inner sulphur …’ Block tried to harmonise Cartesian cosmology with alchemy. In 1700, Block worked with the alchemist Reinhold Johan von Fersen (1646– 1716), searching for the alkahest, supposedly produced out of dew that was collected on the fields. In their correspondence, we can follow Block’s practical work and his doubts whether the recipes could be followed literally. The work was in time abandoned, but Block kept his alchemical interest alive; several years later, in 1711, he still spoke in positive terms about “filii artis”. Unfortunately, all his notebooks and papers were burned when the Russian army plundered Norrköping in 1720. The famous chemist J.G. Wallerius (1709–1785), professor at the University of Uppsala, was called “our good Hermes Trismegistus” by a colleague. Even if he did not write any purely alchemical texts, references to alchemy and defences of the art are plentiful in his books on chemistry, e.g., Chemia physica (1759), an important text from the so called “golden age of Swedish chemistry”. In 1767 he

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supposedly performed a transmutation of mercury into silver in the presence of the royal family at the castle in Drottningholm. Wallerius was a close friend of the libertine, artillery lieutenant, alchemist, and Enlightenment writer Jakob Johan Anckarström (1729–1777). Anckarström’s book Chemiske tankar och rön (Chemical thoughts and findings, 1774, with a preface by Wallerius) was written in order to spread the study of chemistry among Swedish youth. In this work, Anckarström defended ancient Hermetic wisdom and alchemy. In the days before his death, he wrote a testament to his fifteen year-old son, begging him to continue the alchemical work that was underway in the laboratory, referring to an “alchemical journal”. Anckarström was also an Enlightenment writer who started a project intended to result in a Swedish encyclopedia. Only a small part, covering the letter “A”, ever appeared, but this section contains numerous references to alchemy (mainly culled from the work of the French writer and alchemist Dom Pernety [1716–1796]). After Anckarström’s death, the King Gustavus III sent a man to collect all his alchemical books, notes, and diaries, which thereafter disappeared. Fifteen years later, Anckarström’s son Jacob Johan jr. made his father’s name infamous when he murdered King Gustavus III at an opera ball.

The Aristocratic Turn

Between the seventeenth and the eighteenth centuries, the social background of the Swedish alchemists shifted. While they in earlier times tended to be academics and medical doctors from the middle class, they now came to consist mainly of aristocrats who worked as officers or bureaucrats, and ultimately some eighty per cent of Swedish alchemists belonged to these social classes. The most prolific Swedish alchemist of that period was the member of the Privy Council Count Gustaf Bonde (1682–1764). During the whole of his adult life, despite long periods when he was active as one the most powerful men of the nation, he was busy with alchemical studies, in laboratory experiments as well as in writing. He also communicated with a large network of like-minded persons in and outside the country. The person who initiated Gustaf Bonde into alchemy was – as was so often the case – a relative, the Baron Crister Bonde (1655–1712). Letters reveal that he was the true inventor of the alchemical process that Gustaf Bonde presented in his book Clavicula hermeticae scientiae (1746); furthermore he is said to have written an alchemical commentary on the Book of Revelation. In 1720, Gustaf Bonde became president of the Bergskollegium (Mining Guild), where many alchemists were members. Here, he also met the young

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Emanuel Swedenborg, whose career he followed into its theosophical phase. (Swedenborg rejected alchemy during his scientific period, but showed a renewed interest in it during the latter half of his life, according to his library inventories.) When the leader of radical pietism, Johann Konrad Dippel, visited Sweden in the years 1726–1728, Bonde was one of his followers, probably both because of his interest in mystical theology and alchemy. The alchemically most intense period in Gustaf Bonde’s life started in 1739, when he lost all his political offices as the power over the Swedish state shifted to another party, “Hattarna” or the Hat Party. Through notebooks and his correspondence, we can follow his eager attempts to understand the alchemical classics and produce the Philosopher’s Stone. His wife Fredrika Viveka Trolle worked together with him in the laboratory. The couple had alchemists from other countries visit their castles in order to teach and practise with them. Gustaf Bonde’s most important alchemical text, written already in 1732, was published during this period. The first edition of this work, entitled Clavicula hermeticae scientiae (Small Key to the Hermetic Science), was printed in Amsterdam in 1746 and thereafter in an edited version in 1751. A third printing appeared in 1786. In this parallel Latin and French text we find references to John Dee’s Hieroglyphical Monad and the Kabbalah, but also to Nordic mythology and the hyperboreans. The process described in metaphors and symbols in the Clavicula had been devised by Crister Bonde. With the help of other sources, we can with some degree of confidence interpret the text, which tells of a highly original alchemical work. Probably, the body of the alchemist is intended to function as the stove, and the gastrointestinal apparatus is the “secret fire”. Briefly, the process consisted of letting small pieces of gold pass through the stomach during two years, after which the gold would be transmuted into the Philosopher’s Stone. The secret lay in the spiritual state of the alchemist, which must be kept tempered and high. Bonde assures his readers that he was close to succeeding with this transmutation on two occasions, but had to stop the process because of political demands. In Gustaf Bonde’s network, we find Johan Arckenholtz (1695–1777), who became famous as the author of a large biography of Queen Christina. He lived a cosmopolitan life, and had to spend some time in jail in the early 1740s due to his political activities. He was a close friend of Gustaf Bonde and was involved with the publication of both the 1746 and the 1751 edition of the Clavicula. Two other members of this alchemical network were the Swedish censor Niklas von Oelreich (1699–1770) and Ulrik Rudenschiöld (1704–1765). In letters and notes we can follow their troublesome works. Through Oelreich, Bonde was in contact with the esoterically oriented marquise d’Urfé, who also figures

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in Casanova’s memoirs. During his time in Paris in the 1740s, Oelreich and d’Urfé were close. In Gustaf Bonde’s diaries we find recipes from the Marquise that among other things include such ingredients as blood from young boys. During the eighteenth century, more and more critical voices were heard attacking alchemy. This criticism not only came from chemists but also from theologians and lawyers. The critique was seldom based on an increasing perception that alchemy was incompatible with chemistry; more often it dealt with ethics and ideas about society and man. Christopher Polhem (1661–1751) and his student Emanuel Swedenborg (1668–1772) were some of the few that critiqued the ambitions of alchemy with arguments drawn from chemistry. Carl Fredrik Mennander (1712–1786), archbishop of Åbo and professor of physics, is a typical exponent of the ethico-social line of arguments. He attacked alchemy in a lecture on mineralogy held in 1747, where he focused on what the perceived as the moral and social problems connected with alchemy: the art is ungodly both because it wants to turn earth into a paradise and because it threatens the economy. Instead, Mennander defends temperance in the thirst for knowledge and advocates the control over science by the citizens. Another Swedish chemist, Axel Fredrik Cronstedt (1722–1765), in 1758 exposed the Swedish alchemists with a famous “Letter of the mystical natural sciences”. The most famous alchemist in late eighteenth-century Sweden was August Nordenskjöld (1754–1792). Together with his brother Carl-Fredrik (1756–1828), he was active as a Swedenborgian in Sweden and elsewhere, and they both wrote extensively on many subjects. The brothers co-wrote the book Oneiromantien (1783), that at first sight appears to be merely a handbook of dream interpretation. A closer reading reveals that the brothers in their joint volume communicated their Swedenborgian ideas and presented relatively advanced esoteric knowledge in areas such as numerology, magic, Kabbalah, and alchemy. Parts of the book were based on Dom Pernety’s Les fables égyptiennes et grecques dévoilées (1758), a work that was attractive to the brothers because its analogical discourse could be interpreted as a sort of Swedenborgian correspondence system. The alchemical interest displayed in the work was a legacy from the brothers’ uncle, Magnus Otto Nordenberg (1705–1756), who through a series of mystical illuminations had created his own natural philosophy, and on this basis crafted a personal interpretation of the alchemical work. The process consisted of melting small balls of gold, keeping them in a molten state at a steady temperature for a long time, after which they pass through the black, white, and red phases described in the alchemical literature, and finally end up as the Philosopher’s Stone. For a period of time, August Nordenskjöld’s alchem-

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ical work was financed by King Gustavus III in a laboratory at the castle on Drottningholm. August Nordenskjöld combined Swedenborgianism and alchemy with polit­ical radicalism. In some of his texts, he advances the idea that the goal of alchemy was to annihilate the “tyranny of money”; on 6 June 1790, he danced on the ruins of the Bastille. Two years later, he died in Sierra Leone, where he had travelled in an attempt to realise his utopian ideas. King Gustavus III was not alone among the most powerful people of the nation in his interest in alchemy. Many famous politicians and aristocrats (such as Gustav Adolf Reuterholm and Duke Charles, later King Charles XIII) were during the 1770s and 1780s deeply involved in esoteric Freemasonry and also worked with alchemy, which they viewed as part of a larger system that also included astrology, magic, spiritualism, treasure hunting, and Kabbalah. A special interest in alchemy was shown by the mystic Henric Gustaf Ulfvenklou (1756–1819) and the poet Johan Gabriel Oxenstierna (1750–1818). The last known classical alchemist in Sweden is Fabian Wilhelm af Ekenstam (1786–1868). Between 1814 and 1818 he lived in London in order to study Sanskrit; in secret he also worked as an agent for the Swedish Swedenborgians. Through them, he got in contact with the English Swedenborgian and alchemist John Augustus Tulk, from whom he received some alchemical books and who probably also acted as a master for the young Swede. Through the marginal notes, we can follow Ekenstam’s alchemical studies, that were both theoretical and practical. His philosophical standpoint, which included a vitalistic view of nature, had many similarities with that of the German mystic and romanticist Franz von Baader. John Augustus Tulk was an active Swedenborgian already when August Nordenskjöld in 1789 propagated for a mix of Swedenborgianism and alchemy. In the same circle, we find the sculptor John Flaxman and the poet/artist William Blake. Like Nordenskjöld, Ekenstam showed a special interest in the English seventeenth-century alchemist Eirenaeus Philalethes. Ekenstam has not left any larger contributions to intellectual history with his own texts, but through his close friendship with important Swedish Romantics such as Per Daniel Amadeus Atterbom (1790–1855) and Carl Jonas Love Almqvist (1793–1866), he probably had some influence on the latter. In Atterbom’s major work Lycksalighetens ö (The Island of Happiness, 1824–27), we find alchemical themes as the golden spring of youth; and Almqvist later defended the possibility of alchemical transmutation in his book Guldmakeriets historia (History of Gold-Making, 1867), which he wrote during his time in the United States, perhaps in collaboration with Ethan Allen Hitchcock.

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References

Ambjörnsson, Ronny, Det okända landet, Stockholm: Gidlunds, 1981. Edenborg, Carl-Michael, Gull och mull – Den monstruöse greve Gustaf Bonde, upplysningens fiende i frihetstidens Sverige. Historien om hans exkrementalkemi, hans krets och värld. Försedd med psykoanalytiska, batailleska och historiematerialistiska reflexioner, samt ett utkast mot döden, Lund: Ellerströms förlag, 1997. ——— . Alkemins skam: den alkemiska traditionens bortstötning ur offentligheten, Stockholm: Vertigo förlag, 2004. Lamm, Martin, Upplysningstidens romantik, Stockholm: Geber, 1918–1920. Lindroth, Sten, Paracelsismen i Sverige till 1600-talets mitt, Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1943. ——— . Magnus Gabriel von Block, Stockholm: Svenska akademin/Norstedts, 1973.

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Chapter 5 anthroposophy in denmark

Anthroposophy in Denmark René Dybdal

The Founding Years

In April 1908, during a lecturing tour in Scandinavia, Rudolf Steiner paid his first visit to Denmark. As general secretary of the German Section of the Theosophical Society (TS) and a well known articulator of Theosophical thoughts and ideas, Steiner’s visit garnered considerable attention from numerous members. From then and until December 1912, when Steiner left the TS and subsequently founded the Anthroposophical Society (AS), he visited Denmark on a yearly basis. Following his visit in January 1910, a Theosophical lodge primarily focusing on Steiner’s work and ideas was founded in Copen­ hagen and given the name Steinerlogen. Establishing lodges that primarily followed a particular source of inspiration or impulses provided by a particular Theosophical leader was at the time not unique to Steinerlogen. In Denmark there were already several such lodges, transparently named HPB-logen, Olcottlogen, Besant-logen and – later on – Leadbeater-logen. Steinerlogen, however, presented a somewhat different case, since it apparently was formed by three members of the TS, Bernhard Løw, Caroline Kühle, and Henry Riis-Magnussen, who had been excluded by the local Theosophical Society in Copenhagen in March 1909. Although critique of the leadership seems to have been a major issue behind the exclusion, these members’ interest in Steiner’s work was a contributing factor (Borgman Hansen 2004). On 17 January 1910 Steiner visited the Swedish city of Lund, and a group of between twenty and thirty Danes inspired by his message went to see and talk to him. Steiner advised them to form a separate lodge, and the group returned to Denmark eager to do so. On 29 January, less than two weeks later, a constituting meeting was held, and on 3 March 1910 the first general assembly took place, at which the first Steinerbased organisation in Denmark was formally founded. Although still a lodge associated with the TS, Steiner’s initial visit in 1908 and the launching of Steiner­logen are seen by the AS as key foundational events for the dissemination of Anthroposophy in Denmark. When Steiner left the TS in the last days of 1912 and founded the AS, these events impacted developments in Denmark, as well. Apart from Steinerlogen, another relatively small lodge located in Vejle on Jutland left the TS in March

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1912. In terms of membership, this meant that more than one-fifth of the members of the TS left and joined the AS (or in absolute numbers, approximately sixty members out of 300, as documented in the protocol from the annual meeting of the TS Denmark in 1913). In contrast to the situation in neighbouring Scandinavian countries when lodges left the TS, the Danish “split” caused disputes over the division of assets and property. Løw and others argued that the assets of the now dissolved Theosophical Steinerlogen could be transferred to a new lodge operating autonomously but within an Anthroposophical context. According to the TS, any property held by a dissolved lodge should be returned to the TS. Eventually, TS and Steinerlogen seem to have reached an agreement, but other disputes over ownership followed. In January 1914 when a member of Steinerlogen, H.P. Rasmussen, passed away leaving an inheritance of 60,000 Danish crowns to the lodge, conflicts over how to manage these funds emerged among the leadership of the lodge. Negotiations proved unsuccessful, and Løw and a group of followers left Steinerlogen and founded a new lodge, Johannes­gruppen. After this schism, another six years passed until a further lodge was founded in Denmark (1920), Eremogruppen, under the leadership of Carl Wal­len and his wife Soffy Wallen. As in other countries, Anthroposophical lodges or groups had until then been organised as autonomous bodies. In 1923 this changed, when the international leadership of the AS decided to implement a new and more centralised organisational structure that was intended to unify and strengthen Anthro­ posophical work and initiatives across borders. In Denmark this new structure would have had the effect of uniting all Danish AS lodges in one common orga­nisation. However, not all Steiner-inspired lodges approved of this new cen­tralising development. Due to disagreements between Løw and other prominent Danish Anthroposophists, another two and a half decades passed before Johannesgruppen joined the Danish AS. The first Danish general secretary who was elected after the unification of the Danish national section in 1923 was Johannes Hohlenberg (1881–1960). Hohlenberg was a writer on diverse subjects including yoga and the philosophy of Søren Kierkegaard, and an artist of considerable reputation, and was therefore well-known also outside the AS milieu in Denmark. The general secretary that followed, Esper Eising (1876–1951), who took over after Hohlenberg in 1931 and held the position until 1943, was a successful businessman and chairman in several national business councils and therefore, like his predecessor, also a prominent figure outside of the AS. Having respected figures as general secretaries had a positive impact on the work of AS during these years – especially Eising’s experience in organisational matters helped structuring the initiatives of the Danish section. Despite the ongoing conflicts between the

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Danish section of the AS and Johannesgruppen, Anthroposophy as a movement prospered during its first decades.

After the Second World War

Unlike the AS in other occupied countries, the AS in Denmark was not prevented from continuing its activities during the Second World War. Although they did not advertise publicly, their meetings continued uninterrupted throughout the German occupation. When the war ended, the AS in Denmark was able to resume its public role, and launch new initiatives that aided in spreading Steiner’s teachings in Denmark. A pan-Scandinavian initiative taken by two Danes, Ernst Sørensen and Arne Klingborg, proved particularly important in this respect. In 1949, a first Nordic Anthroposophical conference was held in Nyborg on the island of Funen, with more than 270 members from the Nordic countries participating. Similar conferences have since then taken place regularly in each of the Nordic countries, including Denmark. Although the majority of Danish Anthroposophists after the War supported the centralisation of lodges, not all were in favour. During the 1940s and early 1950s, a group of prominent Danish Anthoposophists, including in particular Edgar Høier and Karen Østergaard, two unaffiliated Anthroposophists who influenced a significant number of members, advocated against a centralised national leadership. Differences over leadership and organisation threatened to split the movement in Denmark, as it did abroad. The international conflict between Marie Steiner, widow of Rudolf Steiner, and the leadership in Dornach at the time, Albert Steffen and Günther Wachsmut, over the question of who owned rights to Steiner’s work also affected the Danish branch. Høier and Østergaard supported Marie Steiner, while the Danish AS leadership sided with Steffen and Wachsmut. When the first Nordic summer conference was to be organised in Denmark, both Høier and Østergaard were opposed to these plans. After Marie Steiner passed away in 1949, the conflicts gradually diminished, internationally as well as locally in Denmark. After many years marked by such conflicts, the period from around 1960 and up to the present day has been a period of stability for the AS. In part, this has been due to the leadership of Oskar Borgman Hansen, who was elected general secretary in 1966, a position he held until 2001. Both before and after his retirement as general secretary of the AS, he has been a significant influence on the AS in Denmark. Like his predecessors, Borgman Hansen is a well-known figure in the broader Danish cultural landscape, both as lecturer and scholar at the department of philosophy at the University of Aarhus from the late 1950s until 1994, and as a public intellectual.

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Steiner-Inspired Activities

In Denmark, as in other countries, Steiner’s teachings have been the foundation of a broad variety of practical activities, such as education, caretaking, agriculture, and even banking. These Steiner-inspired ventures have been facilitated by the close cooperation of various Scandinavian branches of the AS. The spread of Steiner-based education in Denmark has, for instance, been facilitated by contacts with the Rudolph Steiner Seminar in Järna, Sweden. A number of summer schools for youth had been held on a yearly basis, primarily arranged by prominent young representatives from the three Scandinavian countries, Arne Klingborg (Sweden), Jørgen Smit (Norway), and Oskar Borgman Hansen (Denmark). The idea of founding a seminar arose and eventually resulted in the establishment of the Järna seminars in 1964. A Nordic Waldorf cooperation was formally initiated in 1969. Even though there had been two Waldorf schools in Denmark already in 1961 (the Steiner school in Aarhus and Vidarskolen in Copenhagen), teachers’ meetings, as the forum for cooperation was called, could provide practical advice on how to establish a school, how to plan and direct one, and how to cope with the critique that was repeatedly raised against Waldorf schools. From the perspective of the Danish section, the organisational advice was most important, since Waldorf education has been accepted with only minimal outside opposition. Compared to the other Scandinavian countries, Denmark has a much more established tradition of accepting schools based on ideological and religious convictions, and Waldorf education thus entered an already well-established field. Denmark has a number of other practical applications of Steiner’s legacy: medical doctors, farmers, commercial companies, and others, who are listed on the website of the AS in Denmark < http://www.rudolfsteiner.dk>. Among the most successful over the last years are Aurion, a manufacturer of biodynamic food, and Merkurbank (“Bank of Mercury”). Aurion was established in 1974 as a bakery using organic and biodynamic products, and has significantly expanded its operations. At the time of writing (2014), Aurion has a workforce of more than thirty employees, and its products are sold to consumers nationwide, including in supermarkets with no ideological connection whatsoever with Anthroposophy. Arguably even more successful is Anthroposophically-inspired banking, in Denmark represented by Merkurbank. Inspired by the German GLS Gemein­­ schaftbank, an organisation similarly influenced by Steiner, a group of people from the same milieu that had established Aurion founded the bank in October 1982 in the town of Hjørring in Jutland. Their ideal of offering loans to ethically and ecologically sustainable initiatives attracted growing attention during the

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1990s. Today with more than seventy-five employees, nearly 23,000 clients (from less than 10,000 ten years earlier in 2004), and a financial balance of close to 1,6 billion Danish crowns in 2013 (more than tripling since 2004), Merkurbank has experienced a remarkable growth. Even during the financial crisis in 2008 and 2009 the bank experienced positive growth, a fact that spokespersons of the bank have attributed to their corporate philosophy. Interestingly, Anthroposophically-inspired companies barely mention their connections to Steiner’s work on their websites. The link is only clearly visible on website of the AS. The rather loose connection between the AS and Steiner on the one hand, and various Anthroposophically-inspired ventures on the other, is further demonstrated by the fact that neither Aurion, Merkurbank or Waldorf schools require their staff to share an Anthroposophical world view. Furthermore, and as in neighbouring countries, these activities are also formally organised as autonomous institutions, with no explicit ideological or financial ties to the AS. This could, however, change in the years to come. After Oskar Borgman Hansen left the position as general secretary in 2001, new initia­tives under the leadership of Troels Ussing have brought various Steinerinspired activities more closely together. In particular, virksomhedskredsen (“The business circle”) was formed in 2006/7 as a forum where representatives of a variety of autonomous Steiner-inspired activities could meet on a regular basis in order to inform, inspire, and strengthen cooperation. Although similar fora exist in neighbouring countries, this is the first attempt in Denmark to gather the various activities that either has been initiated or inspired by Steiner with the intention of strengthening cooperation.

Demography – the Past and the Future

In the first decades in existence, the Danish branch of the AS experienced a significant growth in membership. This expansion came to a halt after the Second World War, despite of the fact that the AS had been able to continue its activities throughout the German occupation. The number of members of the AS, some 800, has therefore been relatively stable for several decades. On the other hand, the number of institutions or organisations inspired by Steiner’s ideas has nonetheless expanded significantly in Denmark since the early 1960s, and the number of people who are not in any strict sense Anthroposophists but who are sufficiently sympathetic to Steiner’s message to enlist the services of such institutions is large. That is for instance the case with schools and kindergartens based on Waldorf education. Since the early 1960s, fifteen Waldorf schools and more than sixty Waldorf kindergartens have been founded.

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Although they at the time of writing seem to receive fewer applicants than in past years, thousands of Danes are nonetheless still indirectly introduced to Steiner and his teachings through these institutions. Finally, and impossible to quantify, there are countless people who have a more or less passing acquaintance with Steiner and Anthroposophy via his books. Danish translations of his works can be found in libraries and in most Danish bookstores selling books on “New Age” or alternative religion and spirituality. For many of these readers, Steiner’s Anthroposophy is presumably just one building block in a quest for a personal, holistic view on life.

References

Borgman, Oskar Hansen, Erindringer og reflektioner, København: C.A. Reitzels Forlag, 2001. ———. Kulturkamp – artikler og essays fra 40 år, København: C.A. Reitzels Forlag, 2004. Teosofisk Tidskrift för Scandinavien (1893–1918). Tidsskrift for antroposofi (1962–1969 & 2006–). Vidar – Nordisk tidsskrift for åndsvitenskap (1915–1940)

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Chapter 6

Anthroposophy in Finland Kennet Granholm

The Finnish Anthroposophical Society

The Finnish section of the Anthroposophical Society was founded in 1923 by Uno Donner (1872–1958), at Steiner’s own request. Donner acted as the chairman from the founding of the society in Finland until 1932. The society was officially registered on 16 April 1970, and is today run by a board of directors consisting of eight people. The activities of the society are diverse, and take a holistic approach where religious issues are treated in conjunction with themes from philosophy, art, science, and so forth. Consequently, the activities include everything from lectures and seminars to various artistic performances. The society is based in Helsinki, where an Anthroposophical library is maintained, but activities are arranged in thirty-two other regions in the country. In addition, Swedishlanguage activities are organised in several Finnish cities. The society also publishes Anthroposophical literature and the journal Takoja four times annually. ­Dues­-paying members receive the journal Kirjokansi. The membership was ap­proxi­mately 730 people according to information available in October 2009.

The Christian Community in Finland

Suomen Kristiyhteisö is the Finnish section of the Christian Community founded in Germany in 1922. The community is based on Anthroposophical interpretations of Protestant Christianity. The Finnish section was founded in 1967 by Steiner school teacher Helmer Knutar (1926–1991), who was ordained at the Christian Community seminar in Stuttgart in the early 1960s. The society was registered as a religious community on 5 September 1969. In the beginning the community was based in Helsinki, but in 1983 its centre was moved to Tampere. Congregations exist in Helsinki, Tampere, Lahti, and Tammisaari, and activities are organised in nine other regions in Finland. The Community has four ordained priests in Finland. Since 1980 the journal Kristiyhteisö (Christian Community) has been published in four issues per year. There were 251 members in 2008, which is a significant growth since the early to mid-2000s, when the Community had less than one hundred members. © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_008

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Anthroposophical Medicine

Antroposofisen lääketieteen yhdistys/Föreningen för antroposofisk medicin (The Association for Anthroposophical Medicine) is a Finnish association with the aim of supporting and promoting the school of holistic healing created by Rudolf Steiner and Ita Wegman. The association was officially registered on 18 November 1987. It also works as an expert body in dealings with government officials, assesses research done on Anthroposophical medicine, publishes material, and in general provides information. In addition, a professional association – Antroposofisen lääketieteen lääkäriyhdistys (ALLY, the Medical Professional Association for Anthroposophical Medicine) – was founded in 1993. The membership is divided into regular members – who need to be certified medical doctors, dentists, or veterinarians, or people who have a bachelor degree in one of these areas, and who are members of the international association for Anthropological medi­cine, Internationale Vereinigung anthroposophischer Ärztegesellschaften – and extra­­ordinary members – who are medical professionals or students, but are not members of the international association. There are no Anthroposophical hospitals in Finland – the closest one is in Järna, Sweden – nor are there any educational institutions for Anthropological medicine – the closest location also in this regard is in Sweden. Facilities for Anthroposophical treatment pedagogy do, however, exist in thirteen locations in Finland. These are special needs schools and nursing homes for mentally disabled youths and adults, operating according to the Anthroposophical Camphill philosophy developed in the 1940s by Austrian paediatrician Karl König (1902–1966). Facilities operating with this philosophy are the Myllylähde yhteisö in Hämeenkoski, the Sylvia-koti yhteisö in Lahti (founded 1956 in Jorvas, moved to Hyvinkää in 1962, and finally to Lahti in 1970), and Tapolan kyläyhteisö in Niinikoski (founded 1974).

Waldorf Education

Waldorf schools – locally called Steiner schools (Steinerkoulu) – have existed in Finland since 1955 when the first school was opened in Helsinki. Twentyfour Steiner schools – two of which are Swedish-language schools – and three special needs schools operate in Finland, and the website Steinerkoulu.fi clams that more than 5,000 children were enrolled in the Waldorf system in the fall of 2007. Education is provided from elementary school-level (age seven) all the way to secondary education (until age nineteen). In addition forty-five Steiner

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kindergartens provide pre-school teaching, of which four in the Swedish language. Since 2009, all Steiner schools operate within Steinerkasvatuksen liitto ry (the Association for Steiner Education), based in Jyväskylä. Before this, two separate associations had governed the running of the schools. Parents who want to educate their children according to the Waldorf method apply at the school of their choice, as no centralised system for applications exists. Both kindergarten and school teachers are educated at Snellman-korkeakoulu. The association also publishes the journal Steinerkasvatus in four issues per year. Snellman-korkeakoulu (the Snellman University College) is a Helsinki-based higher education institution providing teaching building on Rudolf Steiner’s Anthroposophical world view, as well as Johan Vilhelm Snellman’s (1806–1881) philosophy of education. The institution was started in 1980, with Reijo Wile­ nius (b. 1930), Jukka Jormola, Matti Kuusela, Martti Tuomola, and Ajami Wile­nius as the active parties. Reijo Wilenius, a former Professor of Philosophy at the University of Jyväskylä, has functioned as the principal of the school since its inception. Snellman-korkeakoulu was granted official status as a higher education institution in 2002. The college provides both a scientific curriculum – consisting of, e.g., biology, psychology, philosophy, and anthroposophy – and teaching in art subjects. The education in Waldorf pedagogy is an obvious focus of the institution, and can be extended to full degrees in kindergarten teaching or class teacher certification. A specialisation in pedagogy for children with special needs is also possible. Studies at the institution provide certification to teach at Steiner schools, but in order to gain qualification to teach in general schools additional education is needed, for example studies in pedagogy at a Finnish university or in the MA-programme at Rudolf Steiner Høyskolen (The Rudolf Steiner University College) in Oslo, Norway. Other educations provided are studies in visual arts, rhetoric and drama, Eurythmy (a form of rhythmic movement that can function both as an art form and used in therapy) and biodynamic cultivation (240 ECTS). Short courses are also organised.

The Donner Institute and Library

The Donner Institute for Research in Religious and Cultural History was established in 1959 with funds donated by Anthroposophists Uno and Olly Donner (1881–1956). The institute operates as an independent research institute and library connected to Åbo Akademi University and has no ties to the Anthropo­ sophical Society.

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Biodynamic Cultivation in Finland

Biodynaaminen yhdistys/Biodynamiska föreningen (The Biodynamic Associa­ tion) has operated in Finland since 1946. The association provides information on biodynamic cultivation, and publishes the journal Demeter in four issues per year, as well as literature of relevance for biodynamic cultivation. It also grants the international Demeter certification to products that are biodynamically grown. The association stresses that it is not only about cultivation, but also about getting people together to plan for the future. A key theme is sustainable development. BiOviini (Bio-wine) and Itu (Sprout) are two Helsinki-based joint stock companies that focus on biodynamic products. The former imports and sells wines and the latter is a wholesale retailer that deals in everything from groceries to cleaning materials and cosmetics Products by Itu are sold by the Ruohonjuuri (Grass roots) eco shops in Helsinki, Tampere, and Turku, as well as the chain of Life “wellbeing and health food”-shops that operate in several Finnish cities.

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Chapter 7

Anthroposophy in Norway Ingvild Sælid Gilhus

Rudolf Steiner and Norway

Rudolf Steiner visited Norway eight times between 1908 and 1923. He was invited by Richard Eriksen, the chairman of the Christiania lodge of the Theosophical Society, who had met Steiner in Germany in 1907. In addition to about seventy-five lectures to selected groups, Steiner also gave about twentyfive public lectures, some of them very well attended. His visits were sometimes covered by the main newspapers, which contributed to make Rudolf Steiner and Anthroposophy known in Norway. From 1908 articles and books by Steiner were translated into Norwegian. The authors Ingeborg Møller and Martha Steinsvik were in addition to Richard Eriksen active in promoting Anthroposophical ideas in Norway in the early days of the movement. In 1913, the Theosophical Vidar lodge (founded in 1911), consisting of forty members, headed by Richard Eriksen, collectively resigned from the Theosophical Society. They joined the Anthroposophical Society, which had been established in Germany in December 1912. This “conversion” was a protest against the creation of the Order of the Star in the East and the strong Indian influence on Theosophy, and a support of Steiner’s Anthroposophy with its Christological orientation. The name of the lodge, Vidar, was a tribute to Old Norse mythology and to the lectures which Steiner had given on this topic in Christiania (Oslo) the year before. Very soon, Anthroposophical groups were established in Bergen, Lillehammer, Stavanger, and Trondheim, in addition to Christiania (Oslo). Steiner attracted a number of gifted people. A famous Norwegian clairvoyant healer, Marcello Haugen, was invited to the Anthroposophical Society in Germany, where he created something close to a sensation because of his psychic powers, and people flocked to him to get healings. Nevertheless, Haugen was soon excluded by Steiner, probably because Steiner regarded him as unruly. According to Steiner, clairvoyance belonged to an earlier stage in human development (Parmann 1979: 75 ff). Twenty-five Norwegian Anthroposo­ phists sent a protest letter to Steiner on that occasion. In 1926 Richard Eriksen, who had initially recommended Marcello Haugen to Steiner, resigned from the Anthroposophical movement, and wrote critical articles against Anthroposophy and Theosophy. © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_009

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The Anthroposophical Society

The Vidar lodge was a precursor of Antroposofisk Selskap (Anthroposophical Society) that was established in 1923 as the Norwegian national society within The General Anthroposophical Society. Today Antroposofisk Selskap has about 1,000 members in twenty-one local groups. Since 1914, its headquarters have been in Oscarsgate 10 in Oslo. The Anthroposophical movement includes many gifted people, among them several authors. In Norway the movement has been associated with a cultural elite, mainly expressing a conservative view of culture, though there are radical voices among the Norwegian Anthroposophists as well. Prominent Anthroposophists in Norway have been the authors Ingeborg Møller (1878– 1964), Ivar Mortensson-Egnund (1857–1934), Olav Aukrust (1883–1929), Alf Larsen (1885–1967), Aasmund Brynildsen (1917–1974), André Bjerke (1918– 1985), Jens Bjørneboe (1920–1976), Peter Normann Waage (b. 1953), and Kaj Skagen (b. 1949). They are celebrated authors in Norwegian society, whose influence has reached far beyond the circle of Anthroposophists. At the same time they have contributed to giving Anthroposophy a good reputation in Norway. Larsen, Bjerke, Waage, and Skagen have also been editors of Anthro­ posophical periodicals. The most active spokesperson for Anthroposo­phy is Norway today is the lawyer Cato Schiøtz (b. 1948). There are two Anthroposophical publishing houses in Norway, Antropos forlag, which also runs a bookshop, and Vidarforlaget. Antropos forlag has published more than two hundred books by Rudolf Steiner, most of them translations into Norwegian. In addition to Vidar (1915–1940), which was the first Anthroposophical journal outside Germany, Janus (1933–1941), Spektrum (1946–1954), Horisont (1955–1967), and Arken (1978–1989) have been the main Anthroposophical periodicals. Some of these have combined the promotion of Anthroposophy with broader cultural interests. The two main Anthroposophical periodicals in Norway today are Libra and Antroposofi i Norge.

Waldorf Schools and Biodynamic Agriculture

Why and to what degree have Norwegians been attracted to Anthroposophy? The practical applications of Anthroposophy have been far more significant in Norway that its religious and philosophical dimensions: ‘It seems as if the Anthroposophical fruits are reasonably savoury, while the Anthroposophical tree is far less attractive’ (Waage and Schiøtz 2000: 6). The most important fruits of the Anthroposophical tree are the Waldorf schools (in Norway called

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“Steiner schools”), but the Camphill movement with its curative education, in addition to biodynamic agriculture and banking, are also well established in Norway. The first Waldorf school in Norway was opened in 1926. In 2013, there were thirty-five Waldorf schools and fifty-six kindergartens, which makes the Norwegian Waldorf school movement the largest in the world in relation to the population. In 2000, the schools had 5,000 pupils and 750 teachers, which implies that ca. 2% of the Norwegian population, more than 100,000 people – counting pupils, parents, and teachers – have been affected by Steiner’s pedago­gical methods (Bergesen 2000: 53). The schools are private, but have 85% state funding. Until recently, the Waldorf schools have been the main private alternative to the public school system in Norway, which may explain part of their success. Vidaråsen for the mentally handicapped was established in 1966 and was the first institution within the Camphill movement in Norway. Today there are six institutions for Anthroposophical curative pedagogy with a total of 150 residents. Anthroposophical (biodynamic) agriculture was introduced in the 1930s as the only type of organic farming in Norway. Anthroposophical agriculture influenced the counter-cultural ecological movement and the farming collectives which were established in the 1970s. Biodynamic products were earlier sold in a chain of shops called Helios (established in 1969). Helios was the most important wholesaler, and among the most important distributors, of organic and biodynamic food and health products in Norway. It is now part of Alma Norge, owned by the Nordic Validus Group and its products are sold in grocery stores. Cultura sparebank (Cultura savings bank) was established in 1997 in Oslo. It is an alternative bank, inspired by Steiner’s ideas about banking and interest. In 2013 Cultura sparebank had ca. 5,000 customers and a capital of 560 million Norwegian crowns. The Christian community was established in Norway in 1927. Its full name is Kristensamfunnet i Norge. Bevegelse for religiøs fornyelse (The Christian Community in Norway. Movement for religious renewal). In 2013 it had approximately 2,500 members. There are communities in Oslo, Bergen, Trøndelag, Stanvanger, and Hamar.

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Public Debate

Over the years there have, time and again, been public debates about Anthro­ posophy. The movement has been attacked by scientists because of its views on evolution and by theologians because of its Christological views. Questions have also been raised about the religious philosophy of the Steiner school teachers. To what degree do these schools transmit Anthroposophical esoteric tenets? The answer to this question has usually been that there is no explicit Anthroposophical esoteric teaching in the Steiner schools, but that the pedagogy of the schools is based on Anthroposophical ideas about children and their development. When Jens Bjørneboe, who had been a Steiner school teacher, published his novel Jonas in 1955, a famous novel of high literary quality in which he attacked the public school system and presented the Steiner school as an alternative, the novel gave rise to a public debate. In the main, however, the Norwegian public has not been very interested in the religious philosophy of the Steiner schools. Next to Switzerland, Norway is the country in the world where Anthroposophy has gained the strongest foothold. Anthroposophy was introduced in Norway at a time when every visit by a lecturer from abroad was a major event and such visits were frequently commented upon by the newspapers. Rudolf Steiner’s visits were for fifteen years almost annual events. In its formative phase in Norway, and for most of its history, the Anthroposophical movement has been blessed with gifted persons who combined Anthroposophy with a broader cultural commitment. Most of these people seem to have been more interested in the spirit of the movement than with agreeing with every word Rudolf Steiner ever said. Since the Steiner schools have been almost the only alternative to the public school system, they, more than anything, have contributed to making Anthroposophy known. Occult physiology, Christology, planetary evolution, reincarnation and spiritual science and what, more generally, “der Doktor hat gesagt” – i.e., the specific pronouncements of Rudolf Steiner – are certainly discussed among Norwegian Anthroposophists and elaborated upon in the Anthroposophical periodicals, just as such themes are treated in other countries. However, it is not the movement’s views on these questions, but the practical applications of its teachings that make the Anthroposophical movement the most successful New Religious Movement in Norway in the twentieth century. So, at the same time as the Anthro­posophical movement has always been a rather isolated countercultural current in the Norwegian society, it is, at the same time, an active cultural power – especially in the field of education, but also as a provider of organically farmed products and as part of public debate.

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References

Bergersen, Helge Ole, “Steiners etterfølgere – subkultur eller motkultur?”, in: Cato Schiøtz and Peter N. Waage (eds.), Fascination og forargelse: Steiner og antroposofien sett utenfra, Oslo: Pax Forlag, 2000, 51–58. Christensen, Terje, En kulturimpuls slår rot. Fra antroposofiens første tid i Norge, Oslo: Antropos forlag, 2008. Ebbestad Hansen, Jan-Erik, “Autoritetens filosofi”, in: Cato Schiøtz and Peter N. Waage (eds.), Fascination og forargelse: Steiner og antroposofien sett utenfra, Oslo: Pax Forlag, 2000, 119–132. Gilhus, Ingvild Sælid and Lisbeth Mikaelsson (eds.), Skjult visdom – universelt brorskap. Teosofi i Norge, Oslo: Emilia forlag, 1998. Parmann, Øistein, Marcello Haugen, Oslo: J.W. Cappelens forlag, 1979. Schiøtz, Cato, “Den offentlige kritikk av antroposofien”, Libra (1995), 3–4. Simonsen, Terje G., Janus, et tidsskrift og en tid, Oslo: Solum, 2001. Waage, Normann Peter and Cato Schiøtz (eds.), Fascinasjon og Forargelse. Steiner og antroposofien sett utenfra, Oslo: Pax, 2000.

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Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Anthroposophy in Sweden Håkan Lejon

The Beginnings of Anthroposophy in Sweden

The Anthroposophical movement in Sweden has its origin in the conflicts that existed within the Theosophical movement in the late 1800s and early 1900s. When Rudolf Steiner broke with the Anglo-Indian branch in the last days of 1912, a small group of Swedish Theosophists a few days later followed his example. In Stockholm, the first Anthroposophical lodge, Rosenkorset, was formed in January 1913, and was initially led by officers Gustaf Kinell and Gustaf Ljungq­vist. On 23 February of the same year a new lodge, Balder, was founded in Norrköping, with Anna Wager Gunnarsson as the leader and in Lund a pro­ fes­­sor’s wife, Clara Wahlberg, also started a lodge. The new ideas often spread via publications. In January 1913 Anna Wager Gunnarsson founded a publishing house devoted to this purpose, Förlagsföre­ ningen AS u.p.a., located in the city of Norrköping. When the First World War broke out, members were unable to arrange lodge meetings and publishing trans­lations of books by Steiner became a key activity for the new movement. Already during the first year of operation, seven translations into Swedish were published; six of works by Rudolf Steiner and one work by the German pastor Max Seiling. Journals followed: at first in Norway with the magazine Vidar, launched in 1915, while in Sweden, the first Anthroposophical journal, Antroposo­fisk Tidskrift (Anthroposophical Journal), only appeared in 1923. These journals followed international developments closely, and many articles were translations of German originals. Translations and articles in journals made the movement increasingly known, and the number of supporters slowly grew. On 18 December 1919 the total number of members had increased to 162. Despite the modest number of members, the Anthroposophical Society in Sweden was debated in the media and in books. The attention that the budding movement attracted from outsiders can be gauged by the fact that the University chancellor in Uppsala and later Swedish Archbishop, Nathan Söderblom (1861–1931), made it possible in April 1919 for one of the founders of The Christian Community, a ChristianAnthroposophical church, Friedrich Rittelmeyer, to be invited to Stockholm and Uppsala to hold public lectures. One reason for this sympathetic reception

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_010

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was the fact that Swedish Anthroposophists during these first years stressed their links to the broader Christian family, as opposed to the Orientalizing trend in Adyar-based Theosophy.

The Next Generation

On the European continent, the Anthroposophical movement was affected by the two world wars and their consequences. During the First World War, nearly all activity came to an end in the German-speaking countries, and the headquarters were moved from Germany to Dornach near Basel in neutral Switzerland. During World War II the Anthroposophical institutions in Germany were closed or dissolved. Sweden remained a neutral country and stayed out of both wars, and the Anthroposophical movement continued to flourish. In the 1940s, refugees from the war came to Sweden and helped to ­create and develop Anthroposophical institutions. Conversely, Swedish Anthroposophists supported the activities at the Goetheanum in Dornach, and made efforts to rebuild Anthroposophical institutions in Central Europe after the war. In the spring of 1935, Edith Knaffl-Granström took over the presidency of the Swedish Society from Anna Wager Gunnarsson, who in turn had replaced Gustaf Kinell in 1930. The new chairman was not only a dedicated member of the Society, but was also strongly linked with Central European Anthropo­ sophical culture. The board of the Swedish Society began to take an increasing interest in international matters. In April 1945 the Swedish board became aware that Marie Steiner, Rudolf Steiner’s widow, had demanded compensation from the General Anthroposophical Society in Dornach for having released Rudolf Steiner’s lectures and books without having the legal rights to these works. The dispute led to schisms between different groups within the Society. For the Swedish Anthroposophists the conflict between Marie Steiner and the Dornach Anthroposophists was extremely problematic, because both parties in the conflict had close ties to Swedish members. As noted above, many activities of the society had in the first years been directed toward reading texts by Steiner, attending lectures, and assimilating the esoteric Christian world view associated with Anthroposophy. Under Edith Knaffl-Granström’s leadership, the Swedish Society continued to see the study of esoteric doctrines in lodge meetings as the society’s main function. In the 1930s and 1940s, various practical aspects of Anthroposophy, such as Waldorf schools and biodynamic farming, nevertheless gained an increasingly strong foothold in Sweden. These activities were, however, often kept organisationally

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apart from the Swedish Anthroposophical Society. Despite their central European origins, these practical Anthroposophical ventures in Sweden over time adapted to local social and cultural developments and to Swedish legislation. Numerous such activities came to Sweden in these years: the first Anthroposophical home for children in need of special care was established in 1934, biodynamical farming also arrived in 1935, the Christian Community established a branch in 1937, and the first of many Waldorf schools opened in 1948 (after a short and unsuccessful first attempt as far back as in 1931). Such international impulses came to Sweden not least because it was deemed important for Swedish members to attend conferences abroad and for the Swedish organisation to invite international Anthroposophical guests to give lectures. A modest first endeavour toward establishing a home for children in need of special care was started in 1934 in Sweden, when a small home for such children was established by Per Sundberg, headmaster of Viggbyholm boarding school, outside Stockholm. Marit Laurin, a lecturer at the boarding school, along with two special trained educationists from Germany, Gustav and Charlotte Ritter, taught a first class of at first only three but later five boys. The activities soon moved to Järna, south of Stockholm, where a number of such homes were founded over the following years: Mikaelgården, Saltå, Mora Park, Solberga, and others. The first experiments in biodynamic gardening in Sweden were carried out by people involved in running these homes. Biodynamic gardening was also promoted by the nationally very well-known advocate of a healthy life-style, Are Waerland (1876–1955). Waerland’s perspective on what constituted a healthy life covered a whole gamut of practices, from yoga and physical exercise to food and drink. Waerland was one of the pioneers in promoting organically grown foodstuffs, and recommended his followers to also take an interest in the biodynamic method. The Society for the Promotion of Bio­ dynamic Cultivation was formed in early 1944 and was intended to promote health food among growers and consumers. Interest in Waldorf education expanded in the late 1940s, again promoted by people who stood outside the Anthroposophical Society’s traditional groupings. Indeed, in February 1947 the board of the Anthroposophical Society made it clear that the Anthroposophical Society had no organisational or financial responsibility for any school. It was also decided that educational activities could not be conducted in any premises belonging to the Society. The boundaries between a more esoterically-coloured Society and practical humanistic Steiner-inspired activities could not have been more firmly drawn.

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The Re-Orientation of the Anthroposophical Society in Sweden

In 1954 the Board of the Anthroposophical Society in Sweden began to take initiatives to reorganise the Society’s way of working. On advice from the newly elected leader Arne Klingborg, work in the lodges would have wider humanistic and social aims. He urged for closer ties between the independently-organised, practical legacy of the Anthroposophical movement and the more esoterically oriented segments within the Society. With the sanction of the central administration in Dornach, the Society was to focus on teaching a small number of key topics, including the study of basic Anthroposophical concepts, reincarnation and karma, meditation, esoteric Christology, studies in Rudolf Steiner’s lectures, painting and other arts, and eurythmy (an Anthroposophical performing art that “translates” speech into movement). The following years were a period of expansion for the broader Anthropo­ sophical movement. This coincided with and was partly borne by specific changes in Swedish culture and society, not least the post-War economic growth. The number of Anthroposophical institutions and companies, such as Waldorf schools, the homes for special care, biodynamic farms, publishing houses, shops, etc., increased from a few dozen in the mid-1950s to just over 600 in the mid-1980s. The number of people employed by such bodies rose to over a thousand, and those who were more loosely involved or affected by the activities could be counted in the tens of thousands. The Anthroposophical movement’s growth in Sweden took place in a highly ambivalent period: on the one hand, there was a utopian vision of how the welfare state could provide good schooling, care, and basic wellbeing for all in need; on the other, it was also a time when the cracks in the welfare state became visible, when industrialisation and consumerism led to increasing signs of environmental degra­dation. For some, Anthroposophical initiatives were a viable alternative. Some of the practical applications of Anthroposophy, not least Waldorf education and Biodynamic farming, became quite popular with a young generation. The Anthroposophical Society in the narrower sense, however, encountered difficulties in profiting from these new trends. The 1960s and early 1970s counterculture was a time of interest in the occult and in alternative lifestyles, but rather than welcoming a potential influx of new members, the Society closed itself off. On the one hand, the leaders of the various Anthroposophicallyinspired bodies were involved in negotiations with the Swedish authorities regarding the establishment of new schools, etc., and had no wish to be associated with occultism or countercultural permissiveness. On the other, the mother Anthroposophical Society remained very conservative, despite all efforts at reorganisation. In principle, little had changed since Rudolf Steiner’s

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days in the early 1920s, in that Steiner’s instructions were followed and his texts were read. Klingborg tried recruiting new members to esoteric meetings, but only a few were attracted.

The Contemporary Period

The practical initiatives associated with Steiner’s legacy grew so quickly, while the Anthroposophical Society nearly stagnated, that new measures seemed to be called for. In September 1979 an international meeting was held in Dornach, with such organisational matters as the main topic. The result of the conference was the adoption of a new organisational concept: integration. The School of Spiritual Science, it was decided, should be the backbone within the traditional Anthroposophical Society. Practical aspects of Anthroposophy that had previously been separately organised, i.e., Waldorf schools, biodynamic farming, and so forth, would henceforth be represented as different sections under the School of Spiritual Science. Many of the most extroverted manifestations of Anthroposophy took shape during these years. In the summer of 1980 three large, coordinated exhibitions, with Arne Klingborg as one of the organisers, presented aspects of Anthro­ posophy to a large audience. Already beginning in the 1930s, several of the practical activities of the Anthroposophical movement had their headquarters in the small town of Ytterjärna, approximately 50 kilometres south of Stock­ holm. Now, in the 1980s and 1990s, Ytterjärna expanded and became a centre for much of the Swedish Anthroposophical milieu, and due to the many visitors who come to this township every year, also an important point of contact with the rest of society. Anthroposophical medicine has its main Swedish base at Vidarkliniken which opened in 1985. In 1992, Kulturhuset (the House of Culture), was inaugurated as a venue for concerts, art, theatre, dance performances, and much else beside. Although the idea of the central administration was to create an organisational form able to integrate practical and more esoteric aspects of Steiner’s legacy, traditional studies of Steiner’s works and meditative exercises still take place. The latter, once a closely guarded practice for the inner core of members, has become more open for public inspection. A leading Anthroposophist, Jørgen Smit, has published a number of titles on this topic, including Antro­ posofi och meditation (Anthroposophy and Meditation) in 1991, Skol­ningsvägen och livspraxis (The Method of [Spiritual] Development and Practical Life) in 1994, and Meditation och Kristusupplevelse (Meditation and the Experience of

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Christ) 1996. Since the first years of the twenty-first century, public courses in meditation have been held regularly at Kulturhuset in Ytterjärna. The expansion of the Anthroposophical movement has continued into the present day. The increasing interest in alternatives to state-run schools and a growing environmental awareness among the general public have continued to provide goodwill for those who are involved in Waldorf education, biodynamic farming, and so forth. As the movement has expanded, it has come to consist of people with very different views on life and quite diverse lifestyles. There is no consistent and strongly cohesive organisation to gather all interested parties, even if attempts have been made and continue to be made by the central administration of the Anthroposophical Society, nor is a direct ideological link to Steiner’s core concepts necessarily shared by all. In this sense, Anthroposophy in Sweden has undergone a fundamental transmutation from its foundation to the present day.

References

Danielsson, Lennart, and Ingrid Liljeroth, Vägval och växande – specialpedagogiskt perspektiv. Förhållningssätt, kunskap och specialpedagogik för yrkesverksamma hjälpare, 2nd ed., Stockholm: Liber, 1998. Frisk, Liselotte, Nyreligiositet i Sverige: ett religionsvetenskapligt perspektiv. Nora: Nya Doxa, 1998. Frödén, Sara, I föränderliga och slutna rosa rum: en etnografisk studie av kön, ålder och andlighet i en svensk waldorfförskola. Dissertation, Örebro universitet, 2012. Lejon, Håkan, Historien om den antroposofiska humanismen: Den antroposofiska bildningsidén i idéhistoriskt perspektiv 1880–1980, Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1997. Nobel, Agnes, Educating Through Art: The Steiner School Approach, Edinburgh: Floris, 1996. ——— . Filosofens knapp. Om konst och kunskap och waldorf-pedagogikens okända bakgrund, 2nd ed. Stockholm: Carlsson, 1999. ———. Hur får kunskap liv? Om konst och eget skapande i undervisning, 2nd. ed. Stock­ holm: Carlsson, 2001.

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Chapter 9 Early Modern Astrology in Denmark

Astrology in the Early Modern Period in Denmark Morten Fink-Jensen In Denmark an early discussion of astrology was provided by Anders Sunesen (ca. 1160–1228) who had studied in Paris and in 1201 became archbishop of Denmark. In his long didactic poem Hexaëmeron, he opposed judicial astrology and the claims by the magi of being able to foretell events of the future, although he did not question the possible influence of the stars on earthly matters as such. The late Middle Ages saw a general increase in the interest in astrology, and in Denmark the Dominican Nicolaus de Dacia in the middle of the fifteenth century composed Libri tres anaglypharum, a comprehensive work on both astrology and astronomy. Many members of the clergy continued, however, to distance themselves from astrology, and the leading critic of Danish Protestantism, the humanist and Carmelite Poul Helgesen (Paulus Helie, d. ca.1535), made critical remarks about astrology.

Astrology Taught at the University of Copenhagen

In the first hundred years after the Lutheran reformation of 1536, astrology held a uniquely privileged position in society, first and foremost because of its inclusion in the charter of the University of Copenhagen issued in 1539. The curriculum in Copenhagen was greatly influenced by the German reformer Philipp Melanchthon’s (1497–1560) ideas on university training. This led to the inclusion of astrology, with judicial astrology too, in the statutes for the Faculty of Medicine. The mention of astrology in the charter did, however, raise the question of the legitimacy of this particular branch of learning. Many theologians were averse to the practise of judicial astrology because it attempted both the impossible and the ungodly by predicting God’s will, and at the same time cancelling out the free will of man. This was not an argument concerning the rationality of astrology, but a question of what was forbidden in the eyes of God and his spokesmen, the Danish clergy. Nonetheless, the statutes defended the art of astrology and warned against confusing the mistakes of individual astrologers who might have gone too far, with the art of astrology as a whole. Such confusion, leading to the condemnation of astrology, would not please God, the statutes pointed out, because astrology was a gift from God who

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wished for man to make use of it. This argument had been put forward by Melanchthon in 1535 in his oration on the dignity of astrology, Oratio de dignitate astrologiae, from where it seems to have traversed into the University Charter. Despite supporting astrology, the statutes admitted that astrology could be misused and lead to superstition. The “mathematicians” (as the astrologers were called) accordingly had to perform a balancing act weighing the possibility and usefulness of the predictions against the unlawfulness of transgressing into territory reserved for God. This was being deemed possible on the grounds that hardly anyone, including the theologians, called into question the fact that the stars exerted a certain influence on the earth and the creatures inhabiting it. The debate only concerned the extent of the influence and the pos­sibil­ity of foretelling it. Theologians who like Melanchthon were favourably inclined towards astrology would also point to biblical evidence suggesting firstly that the stars were instruments by which God ruled the universe and secondly that God used the stars as portents. At any rate, the statutes expressed the view that the Danish population at large accepted the practice of astrology. It was therefore to be hoped that students when receiving proper university instruction in astrology could channel their astrological interests into realising the majesty of creation and the wisdom of its architect.

Almanacs

The University Charter also assigned the task of composing yearly almanacs alternately to the two professors of medicine. Their ability to do so in all likelihood played a part when King Christian III (1503–1559) and his advisors singled out possible candidates for the two chairs. The Dutchman Peter Capeteyn (1511–1557) had prior to his appointment as professor of medicine in Copen­ hagen in 1546 already made a name for himself as an author of astrological treat­ises, and King Christian III even tried to persuade the Italian Girolamo Cardano (1501–1576) – who would later be tried before the Inquisition for having cast the horoscope of Jesus – to accept a chair in Copenhagen. Almanacs were more than just calendars and contained predictions, com­­piled by means of astrological interpretation, of wars, diseases, and meteo­ rolog­ical phenomena for the coming year. The printed almanacs would soon become common property and the book publishers’ best-selling titles. When the astronomer Tycho Brahe (1546–1601) had his own printing press established on the island of Hven, the first publication to leave the press was an

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astrological calendar for 1586. By this time several yearly almanacs were available on the market and the success of this commodity in all likelihood attests to the popularity of its astrological content. Another popular book on the subject was written by the Copenhagen printer and editor Lorentz Benedicht (d. ca. 1604), who in 1594 issued En Astronomische Bescriffuelse (An Astronomical Description), which in fact was an astrological description of the influence of the stars on the nature and inclination of man. Benedicht’s book, a translation into Danish from a German original, explained how the planets and the stars affected all aspects of human life, but did so with the permission of God. Astrology was, in other words, not an infallible guide to one’s fate. Rather, it was a supplementary guide to the inscrutable ways of the Lord. This particular view of astrology continued to be supported even by many members of the clergy well into the seventeenth century. In 1590 the pastor Niels Heldvad (d. 1634) had begun to compose almanacs and astrological prognostications. They were immensely popular and were printed both in Denmark and Germany with tens of thousands of copies being sold. In 1616 Heldvad was appointed royal astrologer to King Christian IV (1577–1648). Also Jens Jensen, formerly pastor on Hven and chaplain to Tycho Brahe, in the early seventeenth century published several astrological almanacs and weather predictions.

Tycho Brahe and Astrology

In 1574 Tycho Brahe delivered an oration at the University of Copenhagen on the mathematical sciences, a topic that included astrology which Tycho treated at great length. Tycho spoke of the importance and value of astrology and argued that denying the influence of the stars led to a denial of the wisdom of God, since the planets could not have been created without a purpose. The influence of the heavens on earth was easy to discern, Tycho said: sailors and farmers had noticed that the rising and setting of certain stars caused storms, and astronomers had on numerous occasions shown how conjunctions were followed by not only atmospheric changes but also by pestilence and war. The influence of the stars extended to mankind also, since man was made from the elements, and Tycho gave a detailed account of the analogy between the parts and organs of the human body and the seven planets, placing his view of astrology along the lines of Paracelsian medicine and Hermetic cosmology. Tycho also touched upon the negative view of astrology held by the theologians who feared that the art drew men away from God. He reminded his audience that in the Bible only sorcery was forbidden, not astrology, but he

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also readily admitted that neither man nor God was absolutely bound by the stars. In his autobiography Tycho Brahe would later write of astrology that, although it was considered meaningless by laymen and scholars alike, it was more reliable than one might think. That positive assessment extended to judicial astrology as well, and Tycho claimed to have developed a new method of forecasting future events, although he refused to reveal it. Tycho’s statement shows that astrology was by no means accepted by all members of the learned world, and Tycho therefore consciously distanced himself from what he deemed to be “crude astrology”, attesting instead to the existence of a more refined and esoteric type of astrology which could only be grasped by true scholars. His treatise on the supernova of 1572 included a whole section on astrological forecasts calculated from the observations of the bright star. Besides causing diseases and natural disasters, the new star, Tycho predicted, warned of unprecedented political changes across Europe. He outlined these upheavals in general terms in his treatise, claiming that he knew more on the subject than he was prepared to reveal in print. Tycho was summoned by King Frederik II (1534–1588) to discuss the matter on a more detailed level, Tycho’s astrological studies now having become a matter of national security. Frederik II realised how useful the advanced techniques of Tycho’s observations of the stars could be, not just regarding broad-scale political predictions but also to the individual members of the royal family in connection with horoscopes. By 1576 the king granted to Tycho Brahe the Island of Hven as a fief for as long as he lived and as long as he wished to pursue his “mathematical studies”. When in 1577 Tycho analysed the astrological effects of the comet of that year, he determined that comets, too, were a matter of major significance to Danish national security, and he wrote a manuscript for the eyes of the king and the queen only where he elaborated on the subject. In the same year he was commissioned by the king to cast the horoscope of the new-born Prince Christian, the future King Christian IV. Sophie Brahe (1556–1643), the sister of Tycho, also preoccupied herself with astrology and the casting of horoscopes. But whereas Tycho had instructed her in iatrochemistry, he had warned her against astrological computations because they, according to Tycho, were too complicated for a woman’s talents. This only spurred the self-confident and erudite Sophie on, and in a short time she learned the principles of astrology from German and Latin authors. When Tycho realised her resolve, he stopped opposing her and offered his advice instead. He even considered publishing one of her astrological letters. Other women, too, were known for their astrological expertise. Magdalene Zeger

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(d. 1568), the wife of Thomas Zeger, professor of medicine at the University of Copenhagen, upon her husband’s death in 1544 settled in the town of Kolding in Jutland and made a living as an astrologer and author of almanacs. In the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, all the major schools of medicine, whether Hippocratic, Galenic or Paracelsian, accepted that the stars could be involved in causing illness. Far from all physicians would agree on the iatromathematical idea of foretelling the outcome of a disease on the basis of observations of the planetary constellations at the time of the outbreak, a practice that made the examination of the patient all but superfluous. The overall consensus, however, on the influence of the stars on the development of a disease explains why astrology was assigned to the professors of medicine at the university – and not, say, the professor of astronomy. Medical astrology continued to be held in high esteem at the University of Copenhagen well into the seventeenth century. Caspar Bartholin the Elder, professor of medicine from 1613 to 1624, published an often reprinted Astrologia sive de stellarum ­natura, and in his handbook for students of medicine, De studio medico, which contained advice on subjects and authors indispensable to the future physician, Bartholin named eighteen authorities on astrology including Marsilio Ficino, Giovanni Magini, and Johannes Stöffler, whose student Melanchthon had been.

The Thirty Years War and Ban on Predictions

Despite their widespread popularity, the astrological contents of the almanacs were always susceptible to theological criticism for depriving God of his free will. Leading Danish sixteenth-century theologians such as bishop Peder Palladius (1503–1560) and professor Niels Hemmingsen (1513–1600) would accept the influence of the stars on Earth in principle. But Hemmingsen spoke out against the attempts to predict the fate of men, and several authors of devotional literature lamented the apparently alarming number of people who had deposited their free will with the heavenly bodies. Yet it took almost a century after the Reformation before legislative measures were taken to control astrology. In 1633 King Christian IV issued a decree making specific predictions in almanacs forbidden. The ban followed the disastrous intervention in the Thirty Years War which sparked an eschatological mood in Denmark, particularly following the occupation of a large part of the country by German imperial troops in 1629. Nothing that could avert the wrath of God, which was believed to have struck the nation, was left untried. The astrologers’ ungodly calculations were identified as a major source of God’s anger with the Danes,

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and all prophecies with political or theological overtones were prohibited. Professor of theology Jesper Brochmand (1585–1652) expressed similar sentiments about another calamity that struck Denmark in his book De peste published in 1625, in which he explained that the plague had initially been sent by God. This did not exclude, however, the possibility of secondary influences stemming from, e.g., planetary conjunctions. But it was forbidden to engage in prophesising about the exact effects of these influences. The ban was therefore not issued as a result of a decline in the belief in the influence of the stars, but out of fear of divine repercussions. Not all types of astrology were banned. As with the bull against astrology issued in 1586 by Pope Sixtus V (1521–1590, pope from 1585), the Danish ban did not include weather predictions and the practice of astrology in medicine. Thus, weather predictions continued being printed in the almanacs until the nineteenth century. The attraction of astrology to both doctors of medicine and astronomers alike, however, declined over the course of the seventeenth century, and by the end of the century astrology had acquired an indelible stigma of pseudo-science.

References

Christianson, John Robert, On Tycho’s Island: Tycho Brahe and his Assistants, 1570–1601, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Dreyer, J.L.E. (ed.), Tychonis Brahe Dani Opera Omnia, Vol. I–XV, Copenhagen: Libraria Gyldendaliana, 1913–1929. ——— . Tycho Brahe: A Picture of Scientific Life and Work in the Sixteenth Century, New York: Dover, 1963. Fink-Jensen, Morten, Fornuften under troens lydighed. Naturfilosofi, medicin og teologi i Danmark 1536–1636, Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum, 2004. ——— . “Medicine, Natural Philosophy, and the Influence of Melanchthon in Refor­ mation Denmark and Norway”, Bulletin of the History of Medicine 80 (2006), 439–464. Kragh, Helge (ed.), Fra middelalderlærdom til den nye videnskab, 1000–1730. Dansk naturvidenskabs historie, Vol. 1, Aarhus: Aarhus Universitetsforlag, 2005. Ræder, Hans, Elis Strömgren and Bengt Strömgren (eds.), Tycho Brahe’s Description of his Instruments and Scientific Work as Given in Astronomiae Instauratae Mechanica (1598), Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1946.

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Chapter 10 Early Modern Astrology in Norway

Astrology in the Early Modern Period in Norway Gina Dahl

A Shortage of Learned Circles

Throughout the Middle Ages, the Norwegian upper classes apparently had a scholarly interest in the movements of the heavenly bodies and their influence on the natural world, including man. There are, however, few sources relating to medieval astrology in Norway, and no horoscopes dating back to the period have been preserved. References attesting to this interest may, however, occasionally be spotted in the period’s literature: a list of omens, including predictions based on astrology, has been preserved, reflecting the medieval preoccupation with the heavenly bodies’ effect upon man and his surroundings. These dealt with the Moon’s passage through the zodiac and the effects that this crossing would have on the natural world. Throughout the early modern period, there is evidence of a fascination with astrology among a broader section of the population. Symptomatic of this interest is the printing of an almanac in Christiania in 1643, one of the first books to be printed on Norwegian soil. Astrological speculations also influenced a wide range of topics: when Horticultura, a book on gardening written by the Trondheim gardener Christian Gartner, was published in 1694, certain astrological signs were described as either beneficial or harmful to the planting of fruit trees. What Norway lacked, however, in the Middle Ages as well as in the early modern period, were communities that could engender larger scientific societies stimulating the writing of works on astronomy and astrology: there were no counterparts to major Danish proponents of astrology such as Anders Sunesen or Peder Nattergal (Petrus de Dacia) in Norway during the Middle Ages, and no major centres of learning existed on Norwegian soil. Similarly, astrology, which was only slowly differentiated from astronomy, was from the Renaissance period to the end of the seventeenth century generally practised at courts, universities, and attached observatories, none of which were found in Norway. Norway’s first scientific society was established as late as during the latter part of the eighteenth century, and a university observatory as late as in 1833. Astro­nomical observations, however, were conducted on Norwegian soil prior to this date, and in the second half of the eighteenth century in

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particular, the Arctic attracted a range of European astronomers: the Austrian astronomer Maximilian Hell, for instance, constructed an observatory in Vardø in 1768 in order to study the transit of Venus. By this time, however, astrology had suffered a drastic loss of credibility as part of the scientific, or natural philosophical, curriculum studied by the upper classes. Due to the lack of large scientific communities, it was only in the sixteenth century, a period when the class of educated officials expanded, that authors on astrology appeared in Norway, and even then only in very limited numbers. No learned circles professing astrological or astronomical interests existed in Norway in the early modern period, although books on this topic circulated among the learned classes. Similarly, the number of writings printed in the field was very limited, partly due to the hostility occasionally expressed by the Church towards the art and the small number of printing offices operating in Norway at the time. What should also be noted is that astrology in the early modern period only constituted one of several divinatory arts that were practised at the time: apart from lore concerning conjunctions, the examination of clouds, comets, and portents appearing in the natural world were also elaborated on by several Norwegian scholars, and these phenomena were generally interpreted as bearers of divine meaning.

A Tour de Force: Jens Nilssøn

As to astrology proper, a major defence of the art was published in the sixteenth century by Jens Nilssøn (1530–1600), a Christiania-born theologian whose father was of Danish origin. Nilssøn completed his education at Copen­ hagen University, and after his return to Christiania, he was appointed head of the Latin School. He also became an important member of the humanist circle in the capital. Later on, in 1580, Nilssøn was appointed bishop of Christiania, but throughout this time, he nourished his interest in astrology/astronomy, an interest that he had developed at an early age: as a student, Nilssøn had made friends with Peder Jacobsen Flemløse and Tycho Brahe, and he also visited Brahe on the island of Hven. Apart from writing two major works in Danish, which were only put into print much later (his diary and his travel accounts), Nilssøn also wrote six works in Latin, all of which were published during his own lifetime. Of these, three works in particular deal with astrology/astronomy, namely De portentoso cometa, Epideigma and In Genesin. Nilssøn, however, also professed a profound interest in medicine and botany, and like several Renaissance philosophers, he was convinced of the existence of correspondences in nature.

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The work De portentoso cometa (1577) was a response to the comet that Nilssøn had spotted in the sky in the autumn of 1577, a comet which was compared to Tycho’s famous supernova with regard to its brilliance. As was traditional, Nilssøn interpreted the comet as a bad omen: he saw it as a warning from God to mankind that the period’s idolatry could only lead to disaster. The poem, however, also reveals Nilssøn’s astronomical skills: the cause of the comet was a conjunction between the Moon and the Sun in the sign of Scorpio. A chart (schema coeli positvm exhibens) showing the heavenly constellations at the time the comet appeared in the sky, was also attached to the poem. In his work In Genesin Seu primum Mosi volumen prooemium (1597), Nilssøn defended astrology as a noble art, because it points back to God’s omnipotence: all existing things are given by God and thereby constitute manifestations of His eternal wisdom. The work Epideigma (1583) represents a more full-blown defence of the art of astrology. It is not, however, only an astrological, or astronomical, manual: Epideigma was the first school manual to be written and published by a Norwegian, and in it Nilssøn seeks to root his natural philosophy in the Mosaic philosophy imbedded in Genesis. In the book, Nilssøn discusses the world’s creation, man’s fall from grace and the natural world and its vegetation, animals, cities, and countries. As a whole, the book should be seen as a manual presenting the basic rules of Lutheran theology as well as an introduction to knowledge of nature and the cosmos. A large part of Epideigma covers the topic of astrology/astronomy. Nilssøn’s argument as to why astrology reveals what happens in the natural world is largely Platonic in outlook. God, according to Nilssøn, is everywhere, in everything, and works through everything, which implies that everything which exists, including the heavenly constellations, simply reveals the will of God. Because constellations which cause events to occur in the terrestrial realm are imbued with a meaning given by God, the study of astrology should be considered the noblest of arts. As an art, Nilssøn therefore places astrology/astronomy, along with geometry and arithmetic, within the field of mathematics and thus theoretical philosophy. Apart from his defence of astrology, Nilssøn also presents a technical classification of the heavenly bodies in his Epideigma: Nilssøn states that there are 1,022 fixed stars, and he divides these into forty-eight constellations. According to Nilssøn, conjunctions between planets cause storms, climatic changes, crop failure, and pestilence. They also account for the rise and fall of empires, riches, and cities. The movements of the heavenly bodies also cause war and peace, as well as the appearance of sects and religions, and they also determine the acts of kings. In fact, Nilssøn believes that each person’s social position, as well as

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the other circumstances in a person’s life, are determined by heavenly constellations. Thus, apart from supporting a more mundane use of astrology, Nilssøn also stresses the importance of natal horoscopes as well as the use of interrogational astrology as a way of analysing events occurring at specific moments in a person’s adult life. Nilssøn also points to the many beneficial aspects of astrology: according to Nilssøn, astrology is important to practical tasks such as cartography, sowing, and fixing the days of feasts. Astrological predictions are also seen as having great value to the general population: knowledge of forthcoming storms, wars, and epidemics gives people the possibility to prepare for these upcoming events. Nilssøn also defends astrological medicine, as he claims that the moment of blood-letting can be determined by looking at the constellations. According to Nilssøn, therefore, heavenly bodies do not only cause diseases, but are also helpful in the healing process. Nilssøn also insists that the soul, or will, of man is not subordinated to astrology. According to Nilssøn, the stars are only influential in those areas of life where the “bodily” aspects reign, which implies that only events which are related to the body are ruled by the stars. This “bodily” realm, however, covers a wide range of areas, notably fortune, physical and psychological conditions, skills and wit, good or bad health, a long or short life, and violent death. All human acts, habits, and interests are, as Nilssøn sees it, influenced by the heavenly bodies, their different qualities, and the way in which they combine. And because human humours are influenced by stars people act in many different ways. Only acts that are based on free will are in Nilssøn’s view not susceptible to planetary influence and therefore not totally predetermined: a man’s soul, or the will it has been given, is according to Nilssøn not subject to astrological predestination, which means that Nilssøn gives a classical answer to the charges of determinism levelled at astrology: astrology is limited to man’s mortal frame, the body’s passions and its “appetites”, but it does not have any power over a human’s immortal and immaterial soul.

Renowned Astrologers: Kempe and Edvardsen

Another author with links to Norway who held a vivid interest in astrology was Ambrosius Rhodius (1605–1696), a lecturer at the Christiania upper secondary school, who was well known as a Paracelsian spiritualist. Rhodius, who after his return to Germany set up an observatory in his garden, was in possession of a wide range of books on astrology/astronomy: in addition to cosmologies attributed to Paracelsus and Boehme, there were books in Rhodius’ library written by Copernicus, Tycho Brahe, Longomontanus, Erasmus Reinhold,

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David Origanus, Johannes Regiomontanus, Cardano, and Cyprian Leovitz, all of whom were major authorities in the field. As to his own writings, Rhodius defended a thesis on medical astrology in 1635, Disputatio astrologica de astrorum influxu (Astrological disputation concerning the influence of the stars). In this work, which deals with the stars’ effects on the generation of disease in man, astrology is defended as an art which simply deciphers God’s miracles. In addition to his writings on medical astrology, Rhodius, like Nilssøn, also engaged in mundane astrology. Rhodius used his skills at interpreting plane­ tary constellations to comment on political events, and this might in fact have been the reason for his and his wife’s imprisonment: the interpretation of a phenomenon spotted in the Christiania sky in 1657 included political predictions that were not welcomed by certain sections of the Christiania elite. In his interpretation, published in a poem in 1660, Rhodius also complained that the Church did not exert proper leadership, an interpretation which also reflects Rhodius’ support of Paracelsus’ theology. Another author influenced by Paracelsus’ natural philosophy, who was also profoundly interested in astrology, was the Bergen theologian Edvard Edvardsen (1630–1695). Edvardsen started his elementary training at the Bergen Latin School at the age of seven, and left for Copenhagen in 1651. As he had no personal wealth, Edvardsen only stayed in Copenhagen for the two years required to obtain the necessary training as a theologian, and in 1654 he stayed rather briefly in Franeker and in Leiden. It remains uncertain whether he actually studied there, or whether he just registered as a student in order to be able at a later stage in his career to show that he had done some studies abroad. After this interlude, Edvardsen returned to Norway. In the period 1654–1661 he worked as a private tutor, and in 1661 he was appointed lecturer at the Bergen Latin School. Later, he was appointed conrector, a position in which he remained until his death in 1695. Edvardsen was fairly well known in Bergen during his own lifetime, as a teacher, author, and astrologer. According to his grandchild, the radical Pietist Edvard Schwarzkopf, Edvardsen was famous for drawing up birth charts, or nativiteter. According to Schwarzkopf, Edvardsen was so good at casting horoscopes that his fellow citizens considered him a sorcerer. Schwarzkopf also claimed that his grandfather professed knowledge of mathematics, arithmetic, astronomy, and astrology superior to that of the famous Danish astronomer Ole Rømer, and that he should be labelled “the second Tycho Brahe”. There is also evidence of Edvardsen’s interest in the movements of the heavenly bodies in some of his writings: in the second part of his history of Bergen (only published posthumously), a whole chapter is dedicated to signs and portents and remarkable events that had occurred throughout Norwegian history

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from the Middle Ages until Edvardsen’s own time. In this account, Edvardsen also occasionally mentions the heavenly constellations that supposedly caused the phenomena he discusses. A chapter in the book also reports on the time of sunrise and sunset in Bergen throughout the year, and another section is devoted to an elaboration on the Bergen climate. Here he suggests that unusual weather is caused by particular planetary constellations. In the article “Observation om Cometen dateret Bergen den 20. Aug. 1682”, an observation of a comet seen on the Bergen sky in 1682 that was published in the Danish journal Extraordinaire maanedlige Relationer, Edvardsen describes the comet’s astrological location and its eschatological meaning: like many other early modern astrologers, Edvardsen interpreted the comet as a bad omen, and elaborated in eschatological language on the disastrous events caused by the comet. Edvardsen’s unpublished manuscript Sapientia coelestis also attests to the author’s interest in astrology. The manuscript, which is also evidence of the author’s belief in Paracelsian philosophy, includes several references to famous authors on astrology/astronomy, such as Tycho Brahe, Copernicus, and Israel Hiebner von Schneeberg; the latter author also wrote about alchemy. Also used as authorities in his cosmic presentation are Origanus’ Introductio to astrology and astronomy and Andras Argoli’s Ephemerides; Argoli was appointed a knight of Saint Mark by the Republic of Venice for his excellence as an astrologer. In Sapientia coelestis, a Paracelsian account of the cosmos, Edvardsen also elaborates on the planets’ qualities; Venus, Jupiter, and the Moon are seen as beneficial, whereas Saturn and Mars are malefic. Mercury, according to Edvardsen, possesses both qualities, as it incorporates the tria prima in more balanced proportions. In keeping with the Platonic idea of a world soul, Edvardsen considers the planets as “lesser gods”, each performing his or her task by exerting a specific innate influence on humankind.

Other Testimonies of Astrological Interests

Although few Norwegians wrote on astrology, titles by various authors from other countries who had written on this topic were circulated in Norway in the early modern period: in the Bergen bishopric, for instance, Vaclav Budevez’ Circulus horlogii lunaris seems to have held a certain importance, and in Trondheim, various other authors seem to have been particularly in vogue, for instance Christopher Clavius, Argoli, and Wilhelm Blauuw. In the county of Jarlsberg, astrological/astronomical works written by Thomas Blebel, Wilhelm Scribonius, Antonius Mizaldus, and Caspar Peucer circulated among the

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parsons. The library belonging to Niels Friis, a late seventeenth-century parson of Tynset (eastern Norway), also demonstrates that its owner had a particular interest in astrology/astronomy and geometry, which were all related fields of study. Friis’ collection is recorded as containing works such as Cyprian Leovitz’ Beschreibung der Eclipsium von 1556 bis 1606; Leovitz, an astronomer and mathematician patronised by Maximilian II, predicted in some of his earlier works that the world would come to an end in 1584. Friis’ library also includes Opus chronologicum, written by the astrologer/astronomer, mathematician, and musician Sethus Calvisius (born 1556), as well as works written by Longomon­ tanus (Astronomia danica), Jacob Pelletier, Petrus Ramus, and Georg Fromme. Books of this kind circulated side by side with books on Paracelsianism and Hermeticism, which simply reflects the importance of esoteric currents in the period’s natural philosophical curriculum. Overall, however, only a small part of this knowledge seems to have ended up being written down, and the people who did write on astrology proper, such as Nilssøn, Edvardsen, and Rhodius, by and large interpreted unusual celestial phenomena in an eschatological manner, a tendency which they shared with authors who interpreted signs and portents in the natural world.

References

Balvoll, Gudmund and Gunnar Weisæth, Horticultura; norsk hagebok frå 1694 av Chris­ tian Gartner, Oslo: Landbruksforlaget, 1994. Dahl, Gina, Questioning Religious Influence: Private Libraries of Clerics and Physicians in Norway 1650–1750, unpublished Dr. Art dissertation, Bergen, 2007. Edvardsen, Edvard, Sapientia Coelestis circa 1677, unpublished manuscript at The Royal Library in Copenhagen, transcribed version by Peder Borgen. ——— . “Observation om Cometen dateret Bergen den 20. Aug. 1682”, Extraordinaire maanedlige Relationer (1682), 292–293. ——— . Bergens Beskrivelse (part 1 and 2), Bergen: Bergen Historiske Forening and J.D. Beyer A/S Boktrykkeri, 1952. Gilje, Nils and Tarald Rasmussen, Tankeliv i den lutherske stat, 1537–1814, Oslo, Aschehoug, 2002. Hødnebø, Finn (ed.), Kulturleksikon for nordisk middelalder, Oslo: Gyldendal, volume 6, 1961: 675–676, volume 8, 1968, 496–497. Ingerslev, Emmerik, “Ambrosius Rhodius og hans hustru”, Medicinsk-historiske smaa­ skrifter 14 (1916), 3–81.

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Nilssøn, Jens, De portentoso cometa, translated by A.K. Fighagen and B. Tosterud, in: Egil Kaggerud (ed.), Johannes Nicolai. Biskop Jens Nilssøns latinske skrifter, Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 2004, 17–39. ——— . In Genesin, translated by M. Heuch Berg and N. Berg, in: Egil Kaggerud (ed.), Johannes Nicolai. Biskop Jens Nilssøns latinske skrifter, Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 2004, 269–338. ———. Epideigma, translated by A.K. Frihagen and B. Tosterud, in: Egil Kaggerud (ed.), Johannes Nicolai. Biskop Jens Nilssøns latinske skrifter, Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 2004, 133–232. Pippin, Per Aspaas and Truls Lynne Hansen, Maximilian Hell’s Geomagnetic Observations in Norway 1769, Tromsø: Tromsø Geophysical Observatory reports vol. 2, 2005. Shackelford, Jole, A Philosophical Path for Paracelsian Medicine: The Ideas, Intellectual Context, and Influence of Petrus Severinus (1540/2–1602), Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 2004. ——— . “A Reappraisal of Anna Rhodius: Religious Enthusiasm and Social Unrest in Seventeenth-Century Christiania, Norway”, Scandinavian Studies 65 (1993), 349–389. Valkner, Kristen, “Konrektor Edvard Edvardsen”, Nordisk tidsskrift för vetenskap, konst och industri 41 (1971), 426–439.

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Chapter 11 Early Modern Astrology in Sweden

Astrology in the Early Modern Period in Sweden Kjell Lekeby

Introduction

The occult sciences were only marginally influential in sixteenth and seventeenth-century Sweden. Only a few learned individuals had delved into the Hermetic and Neo-Platonic ideas that were fundamental to learned astrology. Beside this more intellectual form of divination, a more popular form of astrology was spread via almanacs, of which the best-known is Bondepraktikan (The Farmer’s Almanac) which was widely consulted by the common people and was printed in numerous editions, the first of which appeared in 1662. Lutheranism in Northern Europe had after the Reformation allowed for the freedom of each Christian to pursue his or her spirituality within the framework of Church practices and doctrines. This freedom gave rise to a plethora of “heresies” which challenged official Lutheranism in Sweden and elsewhere. Lutheran priests took on the role of watchmen of orthodoxy, against “heretics” and religious dissenters. In Sweden, which at the time was part of the cultural periphery of Europe, some of these religious innovators challenged the doctrines and beliefs of Lutheran priesthood by exploring the mysteries of the heavens. To the extent that learned astrology gained a foothold in Sweden, it was in close imitation of trends from the European continent. The only original author on astrology was Sigfrid Aron Forsius (ca. 1560–1624). Other Swedish esotericists from this period who had a greater or lesser interest in astrology include Johannes Bureus (1568–1652), Georg Stiernhielm (1598–1672), and Johannes Franck (1590–1661), all of whom will be discussed below. Whereas there are few astrological treatises dating from the early modern period, there are a considerably larger number of writings against astrology. Among these one finds works by the professor of astronomy at Uppsala University Martinus Olavi Stenius (1574–1644), bishop Paulinus Gothus (1565– 1646), and the physician Magnus Gabriel von Block (1669–1722), who wrote tracts against divination and other forms of “superstition”. This astrological and anti-astrological material has only to a limited extent been the topic of academic research. The historian of ideas Sten Lindroth (1914–1980), to whose scholarship the present chapter is heavily indebted,

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_013

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mentions astrology in several works. A number of historians also briefly touch upon the subject, but often do so in negative, normative terms. Despite the few sixteenth and seventeenth-century writers on the topic, and the very limited interest that modern scholarship has shown in astrology, it is clear that the practice was of paramount importance to individuals in the highest political circles of early modern Sweden. The highly educated King Erik XIV (1533–1577) scrutinised the movements of the heavenly bodies on a daily basis, a fact that is readily apparent from his diaries for the years 1566 and 1567. In a book of horoscopes (now at the Royal Library in Stockholm) he recorded the birth charts of his family, friends and foes (Andersson 1936). His younger brother Charles IX (1550–1611) was also careful to take note of major celestial events, and of comets in particular. When King Charles IX in 1604 proposed a reform of Uppsala University, he suggested that the professor of astronomy should also teach astrology. The response of the professors of the University Council to the king’s suggestion reveals no misgivings about this innovation. When Charles’ son Gustavus II Adolphus (1594–1632) was born, his horoscope was cast as usual, among others by Tycho Brahe (1546–1601). Gustavus II Adolphus himself was not to devote much attention to astrology. He did, however, share the fear of comets common at the time. Sources also document his belief in fate, e.g., in his saying ‘my time is written in heaven, and cannot be changed on Earth’. At Queen Christina’s (1626–1689) birth astrologers were also present. During her stay in Rome, she repeatedly consulted astrologers, e.g., at papal elections and other major political events. A horoscope of Christina, prepared in the 1650s by the German astrologer Andreas Goldmayer, is interpreted as a prediction of her difficulties in love and her inability to bear children (Lekeby 1987: 2001; original horoscope MS: Royal Library in Stockholm X755). Christina’s cousin and successor Charles X Gustavus also frequently consulted astrologers (Dahl 1937; Losman 1980).

Sigfrid Aron Forsius

Sigfrid Aron Forsius, priest, poet, and professor of astronomy, was as far as is known the only professional astrologer in early modern Sweden. At first he probably studied in Rostock, but was in 1595 registered at Uppsala University. Beside authors specifically writing about astrology, foremost of which was Girolamo Cardano (1501–1576), his main sources of inspiration were Cornelius Agrippa (1486–1535), Valentin Weigel (1533–1580) whom he cites in a defence of astrology published in 1619, and in particular the versatile Paracelsus. In the years between 1608 and 1610 he was professor of astronomy in Uppsala, and

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also taught astrology as part of his duties. He began to publish almanacs with predictions tailored to a Swedish readership; these almanacs appeared between 1606 and 1624. His predictions routinely foretold major political and spiritual upheavals. During his professorship in Uppsala, Forsius wrote a textbook on natural philosophy – the first in the Swedish language – which was completed in 1611 under the title Physica. Forsius based this work on Johannes Magirus’ (ca. 1560–1596) scholastic philosophy of nature, Physiologiae (1597), which was com­pulsory reading at Uppsala University, but also attempted to introduce various anti-scholastic ideas. His point of departure in doing so was a Hermetic and Neo-Platonic philosophy of nature that saw the cosmos as a whole and described nature in poetic and spiritual terms. He also relied on Paracelsus, and in particular his tract Liber meteororum. A lengthy section of his book is devoted to astrology, while other passages are devoted to discussions of the world soul and of the doctrine of four elements (see below). Forsius discusses the great value of knowledge and the elevated position of the human being in the world: humans alone have an immortal and rational soul, by means of which they can contemplate nature. With great admiration, they see a creation wherein all is filled with beauty and meaning. In the third book of the Physica, Forsius emphasises the theory of the world soul: the world, which is mother of all things, must necessarily also possess life and soul. This theory of an anima mundi, a world soul, was to become an influential component of Forsius’ attempt to explain the celestial influences. Forsius, following Paracelsus, only accepted three of the Aristotelian elements: earth, water, and air, as did a number of other writers in the sixteenth century. The excluded element, fire, was by Forsius replaced by Heaven. Indeed, Heaven functions as a kind of fourth element in all things, including the human being whose inner heaven corresponds to the outer heaven, in accordance with the principle of “as above, so below”. Objects as well as human beings thus comprise a celestial component, or a divine core of heaven/fire, which is activated by the movement of the outer heaven and by the motions of the planets. This is an idea developed further in his defence of astrology published in 1619. In a time of increasing Lutheran intolerance, Forsius developed a speculative and apocalyptic philosophy that incorporated Paracelsian themes. In a prognostication published in 1609, he writes of an alchemical saviour and of the rise of a new age: ‘in this time of ours an Elias Artista will arise, of whom Theophrastus has prophesied’. These apocalyptic themes culminate in the forecasts for 1619 and 1620. His speculations apparently went too far in the eyes of the clerical authorities, who compelled him to defend his astrological opinions in front of the cathedral chapter at Uppsala. He did so by composing a

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tract in favour of astrology, the Scriptum apologeticum. It appears that Forsius was protected by one or more highly placed individuals, and was therefore able to avoid any more dire consequences of his heterodox views. In this text, Forsius defends the truth and raison d’être of astrology, and deplores the attacks directed against the art by theologians. In fact, Forsius suggests, astrology is theologically impeccable. It does not contradict the word of God, as the theologians claim, but demonstrates divine providence: the heavens are the very instruments by which God rules over the world and over human beings. Forsius relies on a scholastic tradition that differentiates between the heavens on the one hand and the three lower elements on the other: the material and passive elements earth, water, and air. Heaven (fire) is in Forsius’ text almost identical with the world soul or aether, an active and essential element. Forsius suggests that astrology is based on a generally accepted physical model, according to which heaven is made of a nobler element than our world. At the same time, everything celestial is in some sense also present on earth. Everything under the Moon is ruled and initiated by the non-elemental nature of heaven, its anima mundi. For Paracelsus in particular – an authority invoked by Forsius that was certainly not well accepted by the Uppsala theologians – the existence of celestial forces and celestial effects was axiomatic. Behind the events of visible nature there was an invisible domain, a spiritual operative force: these were arcana or magnalia which impart life and essence to all things. With Paracelsus, “heaven” was to be understood not only as the visible sky above, but also das Gestirn, the inner firmament of all things in nature, a spiritual nature concealed within the material. Every person has an inner heaven which influences his or her fate and directs him or her to pursue various arts and sciences. The outer heavens studied by astrologers are by no means the sole influence on the individual; at most, they constitute a force that incites people to develop in particular ways. In accordance with the principles of correspondence, the heavens awaken the powers or abilities that exist in astral Man. The stars cannot compel us to do anything for which we lack such inner aptitudes. By studying the picture of heavens found in the horoscope, Forsius suggests that one can become conscious of one’s inner nature and thereby escape blind fate. The wise man rules over his stars. Echoing Ptolemy, Paracelsus, Valentin Weigel, and Cardano, Forsius writes in his apology: One [element], however, is higher: heaven or aether together with the stars, which is active in relation to the other elements like a father and like being itself, ousia. This is the name given by the kabbalists of secret philosophy to the source, the formal or essential element and the world

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soul. For it is from this element that all events in the microcosm take their origin. For the nature of all things comes from aether, and from heaven and through heaven the outer are promoted and incited, so that the inner forces or possibilities become active and manifest in various actions.

Other Early Modern Astrologers

Forsius had a few predecessors, among whom one can mention Georgius Olai (d. 1592) and Nicolaus Ringius (b. ca. 1550), each of whom published a prognostic for the year 1588, including astrological predictions (Sandblad 1942). Forsius was nevertheless the key figure of early modern Swedish astrology, and his influence on seventeenth-century intellectual circles was considerable. Among those who drew on Forsius’ ideas one finds the kabbalist Johannes Bureus, the author Georg Stiernhielm, the professor of medicine Johannes Franck, and the physician and polymath Urban Hiärne. Of these individuals, Johannes Bureus (1568–1652) held philosophical ideas that were arguably closest to Forsius’. Bureus was considered a heretic by contemporary theologians, but was able to avoid reprisals because he was the teacher and confidant of King Gustavus Adolphus. Bureus achieved some measure of fame on the European continent, due to his Rosicrucian writings and the speculations on a Nordic Rune Kabbala in his book Adulrunan. His specific interest in astrology is poorly documented, although the sources indicate that he consulted his own horoscope, as did the father of Swedish poetry Georg Stiernhielm (1598–1672). Stiernhielm’s interest in neo-Platonic and Hermetic ideas was awakened through his contacts with Bureus. Around 1650, Stiernhielm participated in the learned discussions at the court of Queen Christina, and impressed foreign intellectuals who visited Stockholm with his original thinking. His astrological insights are apparent from the fact that he drew a birth chart for Gustavus II Adolphus (Lekeby 2001). Among the other individuals who were in some way connected to the art of astrology, one can mention the following. Professor of medicine at Uppsala Johannes Franck (1590–1661) defended astrology 1626 in his tract De insigni […]. Franck was a devoted alchemist, but sympathised to a greater extent with scholasticism than with neo-Platonic philosophy of nature. Martinus Erici Gestrinius (1594–1648) in 1647 published the first Swedish handbook of astronomy, Uraniae, where he also describes the art of calculating horoscopes. The professor of astronomy Petrus A. Schomerus (1607–1660) was convinced of the validity of astrology, and the lecturer in mathematics Nicolaus L. Malmenius (d. 1697) in 1633 suggested that the stars held a considerable influence over the

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sublunary world. The professor of mathematics Simon S. Kexlerus (1602–1669) briefly discussed astrology in his works, e.g., in Disputatio inauguralis astrologiam generalem proponens (1653). Johannes Erici Stiernstråle (1607–1686) in 1645–1646 chaired discussions held under the headings De veritate astrologica I and II (On the Truth of Astrology). As late as in 1688, Petrus Lagerlööf (1648– 1699) chaired a discussion in Uppsala with the title De astrorum influxu (On the influence of the stars). These and other astrological authors are discussed in Nordenmark 1959 and Nordström 1965.

The Critique of Astrology

In Sweden, the influence of astrology remained rather limited due to negative reactions from two groups of people. On the one hand, several neo-Aristotelians, e.g., Martinus Olavi Stenius (1574–1644) and Johannes Rudbeckius (1581–1646), who shortly after 1600 returned from studies in Germany, were very hostile toward astrology. On the other hand, the Lutheran clerical leadership saw it as their duty to protect Church doctrines against what they saw as spiritual deviations. Religious intolerance was elevated to legal status at the 1611 Riksdag session in the city of Örebro. The demand was raised that ‘those who have succumbed to false doctrines should be considered severed from the nation’. The persecution of “heretics” culminated in the 1620s. After having studied mathematics in the Protestant city of Helmstedt, Martinus Olavi Stenius was appointed professor of astronomy at Uppsala in 1605. After a few years he fell out with King Charles IX and was removed from his position, probably because Stenius was adamantly opposed to astrology. After the death of the king in 1611, Stenius wrote his Disputation mot astrologin (Tract Against Astrology). The choice of topic was due to his controversies with Forsius, who had been appointed professor in 1609–1610, and had taught astrology at the request of the king. In this work, Stenius takes as his point of departure the neo-Aristotelian philosophy taught at Protestant universities in Germany. In this Lutheran version of scholasticism, occult influences and theories of a world soul had no place. He borrows arguments from Otto Casmann’s Astrologia (1599), a work which in turn relies on Agrippa’s De incertitudine et vanitate (1527). Stenius categorically rejects astrology, and makes a clear distinction between astronomy and astrology. He emphasises that the heavenly bodies are natural objects, and that their effects are therefore also natural and not supernatural. He thereby divorces the science of celestial mechanics from religious speculations on the heavens. When Stenius discusses whether the celestial bodies can have the influences

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claimed for them by astrologers, it is the efficient cause that he focuses on. The only quality he accords to these bodies is motion, and therefore he rejects the possibility that they may have hidden qualities and influences. Crucial to his tract is thus his concept of causality. Astrological predictions are made on the basis of the generally operating causes that the heavenly bodies are understood to be. According to Stenius, however, there is no evidence of any causal nexus between celestial events and events on Earth. Nor can the heavens influence people, since human rationality is not material, and a material object cannot affect a spiritual agent. The human will is therefore free, an opinion that astrologers for different reasons also accepted. Bishop Paulinus Gothus was at first positively inclined toward astrology. After the death of Charles IX in 1611, he changed his mind: it was no longer politically very expedient to support astrology. In his Ethica Christiana (1617) he devotes a chapter entitled “Om stjernespådomar” (On Star Divination) to a violent attack. The official line of the Swedish Church had apparently changed: what was previously tolerated to some extent was now characterised as forbidden. The report of the cathedral chapter of Uppsala to Gustavus II Adolphus on 5 June 1619 regarding Forsius’ astrological activities can similarly be seen as the official attitude of scholarly Uppsala. Presumably, Paulinus Gothus was directly involved in formulating a rejection of astrology that follows in Stenius’ footsteps. Judiciary astrology is rejected as being both false and against the word of God: ‘Such divination is completely uncertain and false, damaging and forbidden by Scripture. For with such divination one sanctions a Stoic conception of fate, and diminishes Divine Providence and the free will of the Son of Man’. During the seventeenth century, the church gradually lost its unique status as authority in matters of science. Especially in the natural sciences, a new conception of causality gained foothold in intellectual milieus, and with it scholastic physics as well as astrology lost their position. Teleology was ruled out of the sciences, and the stars were no longer accorded any particular importance in human life. By the middle of the seventeenth century, Cartesian philosophy had gained a dominant position in the academic world, and astrology simply became irrelevant in university circles. Although most astronomers no longer took astrology seriously, the astrological art was not entirely forgotten. A royal decree of 2 October 1665, explains that “reading the planets” was a forbidden superstition. When professor of astronomy Anders Spole (1630– 1699) in 1694 published a textbook of astronomy, Exercitatio academica […], he included instructions on how to calculate a horoscope. Almanacs also continued to include astrological prognostications, even if some doubts were voiced in these publications regarding the validity of divination; perhaps predictions

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were kept in the almanacs simply to cater to a readership that otherwise might stop buying them.

The Eighteenth Century and Beyond

By the beginning of the eighteenth century, learned astrology was entirely passé at Swedish universities. The question of the validity of astrology was very rarely raised, and then only to be flatly rejected. Professor of astronomy at Uppsala Nils Celsius (1658–1724) had several times in the 1690s discussed astrology, and took up the question once again in his dissertation De vanitate astrologiae (1721), but it remains unclear why Celsius should devote polemics against a practice defended by none of his peers. Perhaps his dissertation was merely an exercise in the art of argumentation. The term “astrology” no longer occurs in titles of tracts, which – if they are at all concerned with the subject – discuss “destiny” (de fato) and “superstition” regarding human fate. The attempts by Charles XII (1682–1718) to safeguard Swedish rule over the Baltic area gave rise to numerous prophecies, but these were denounced as “nonsense” and “madness” by physician and alchemist Magnus G. von Block in his Åtskillige Anmärkningar öfwer thesza Tiders Falske Astrologiska, Phan­ tastiska och Enthusiastiska Prognostiker, Spådomar och Prophetier (Numerous Remarks on the False Astrological, Fantastic and Enthusiastic Prognostications, Predictions and Prophecies of These Times, 1708). Chaplain to the king Simon Isogaeus (1643–1709), in his Carla Seger-Skiöld (Carl Triumph Shield, printed in 1714), posed the questions whether it is because of fate that a soldier should die, whether a soldier should observe omens, and whether the stars affect the events of a war. His theological conclusions are that people may try to make predictions, but that it is God who rules our destinies. Johan Arckenholtz (1695–1777) wrote a voluminous biography of Queen Christina in 1751, where he calls astrologers ‘vermin that had spread even to the furthest North’ (cette vermine d’astrologues s’étoit donc transportée même au fond du Nord). Carl Gustaf Tessin, mentor of King Gustavus III, in 1755 declared that astrology was “sinful”. The fact that several critics, including the aforementioned von Block and Arckenholtz, were alchemists, is characteristic of the times: alchemy was seen as an instrumental manipulation of metals with no connection to the kind of speculative philosophy of nature that formed part of astrology. Famous people such as Carl von Linné, who in younger years had been attracted by alchemy, and the mystic and esotericist Emanuel Swedenborg, seem to have had no interest in astrology.

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Astrology underwent a modest revival in the latter half of the eighteenth century, in the subcultures of secret orders. However, the attraction of astrology seems to have been the perceived antiquity of its symbolism, rather that the practice of calculating and interpreting horoscopes. A very few individuals seem to have pursued a private fascination with astrology. Johan Åbom, librarian of King Charles III (1748–1818), and active in the esoteric circles of the Stockholm court in the 1780s, was one of these, as was chamberlain Gustav Adolf Reuterholm (1756–1813), and the poet Johan Gabriel Oxenstierna (1750– 1818) who left some astrological manuscripts. In 1784, Åbom drew up a chart over Reuterholm (Swedish Masonic Archive, nr 121.102), but the latter has added the remark that ‘I keep this [horoscope] more for my amusement than as an oracle; the future will tell whether it will deserve being preserved’. A different kind of celestial divination flourished in the eighteenth century and survived well into the nineteenth. More than 400 popular almanacs were published in the first half of the eighteenth century alone. In these, the peasant population could follow the phases of the Moon, and choose auspicious days for farming tasks such as sowing and harvesting as well as for personal activities such as bathing, cupping or having one’s hair cut. This folk version of astrology seems to have been particularly popular in times of political trouble. As a divinatory genre, Swedish folk almanacs do not appear to have much in common with astrology as an intellectual endeavour. They are mentioned here because they are nevertheless tangentially related to the esoteric conviction that cosmic events affect human destiny.

References

Ahnlund, Nils, “Gustav Adolf, lejonprofetian och astrologien”, Historisk Tidskrift (1939), 48–49. Andersson, Ingvar, “Erik XIV och Astrologien”, Lychnos (1936). Anon. Een Lijten Book/ som Kallas Bonde-Practica eller Wädher-Book, Stockholm 1662. ——— . Planetz Booken/ Huruledes Man een Menniskias Art […], Stockholm 1621. Casmann, Otto, Astrologia chronographia et astromanteia, Frankfurt 1599. Celsius, Nils, De vanitate astrologiae, Uppsala 1721. ——— . “Ett Kort Judicium om Astrologiske Fåfänge Stiernegissningar”, in Celsius’ almanacs for the years 1696–1700. Collijn, Isak, Sveriges bibliografi: 1600-talet (s.v. Forsius), Uppsala: Svenska Litteratur­ sällskapet, 1944. Dahl, Folke, “King Charles Gustavus of Sweden and the English Astrologers Wiliam Lilly & John Gadbury”, Lychnos (1937).

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Forsius, Arno, Tietämisen Riemu ja Tuska Sigfridus Aronus Forsiuksen Elämä n. 1560–1624, Lahti: Hämeenlinna, 1996. Forsius, Sigfrid Aron, Physica (Kungl. Bibl., cod. Holm. D 76), ed. Johan Nordström, Uppsala Universitets Årsskrift (1952), 10. ——— . Scriptum Apologeticum, Försvarskrift 1619, ed. F.W. Pipping, Historiska Bidrag till Finlands Calendariografi I, in Bidrag till Kännedomen om Finlands Natur och Folk, Bilaga Litt. A. pp. 115–129, Helsingfors: Finska Litteratursällskapet, 1858. Franck, Johannes, De insigni et admirabile siderum coelestium […], Upsaliae 1626. Gestrinius, Martinus Erici, Uraniae Libri IV, Upsaliae 1647. Gothus, Laurentius Paulinus, Ethica Christiana, Stockholm 1617. Hansson, Stina, “1600-talsalmanackan – Allemansbiblioteket?” Lychnos (1986). Hedberg, Björn, Kometer och kometskräck, Stockholm: Rubicon, 1985. Isogaeus, Simon, Carla Seger-Skiöld. Stockholm 1714. Kexlerus, Simon S., Disputatio inauguralis astrologiam generalem proponens, Aboensis 1653. Kiiskinen, Terhi, Sigfrid Aronus Forsius, Astronomer and Philosopher of Nature, Euro­pean Studies in the History of Science and Ideas 15, Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2007. Klemming, G.E., and G. Eneström, Svenska Almanachor Kalendrar och Kalendariska Skrifter intill 1749, Stockholm 1878. Lagerlööf, Petrus, Suspiciones de astrorum influxu, Uppsala 1688. Lekeby, Kjell, “Drottning Kristinas Förutsägelser”, Personhistorisk tidskrift 2 (1999), 109–116. ——— . I lejonets hjärta: Drottning Kristina och stjärntydarna, Stockholm: Pleiaderna, 2001. ———. “Martinus Olavi Stenius Disputation mot astrologin 1611”, Astronomisk Tidskrift, nr 1, (1994), 13–17. ——— . “Till frågan om Drottning Kristinas konstitution och äktenskapsvägran: ett astrologisk-medicinskt manuskript från 1650-talet”, Lychnos (1987), 27–35. Linderholm, Emanuel, “Om kometernas religiösa tolkning i äldre tider. Studie till 1500och 1600-talens naturåskådning”, Bibelforskaren 1910, Uppsala: Akad. Bokh. Lindroth, Sten, “Forsius” in Svenskt Biografiskt Lexikon. ——— . Magnus Gabriel von Block, Stockholm: Norstedt, 1973. ——— . Paracelsismen i Sverige till 1600-talets mitt, Lychnos-Bibliotek 7, Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksells, 1943. ——— . Svensk lärdomshistoria: Stormaktstiden, Stockholm: Norstedt, 1975. Lithberg, Nils, Almanackan: från astrologisk rådgivare till svensk kalender, Svenska humanistiska förbundet 40, Stockholm: Norstedt, 1933. Losman, Arne, Carl Gustav Wrangel och Europa, Lychnos-bibliotek 33, Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksells, 1980.

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Nordenmark, N.V.E., Astronomins historia i Sverige intill år 1800, Lychnos-bibliotek 17:2, Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksells, 1959. Nordström, Johan, Bibliografiskt supplement till Nordenmark Astronomiens historia i Sverige intill år 1800, Lychnos-Bibliotek 17:2, Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksells boktr., 1965. Olai, Georgius, Calendarium duplex […] cum prognostico astrologico, Stockholm 1588. Ringius, Nicolaus, Prognosticon Theologicum […] och Prognostica Astrologica om Thetta […] 1588, Wittenberg 1587. Schomerus, Petrus A., Stoore Prognosticum Astrologicum […], Stockholm 1630. Spole, Anders, Exercitatio academica […] 1694. ——— . “Ett Kort Judicium om Astrologia”, in his almanac for 1671. Stenius, Martinus Olavi, Disputation om de astrologiska rörutsägelsernas osäkerhet och fåfänglighet, ed. Kjell Lekeby, Stockholm: Pleiaderna, 1993. Strengnensis Stiernstråle, Johannes Erici, Speculi astrologici sive de veritate astrologica, I–II, 1645–1646. Sandblad, Henrik, De eskatologiska föreställningarna i Sverige under reformation och motreformation, Lychnos-bibliotek 5, Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksells, 1942. ——— . “Politiska Prognostica om Johan III, Sigismund och Carl IX”, Lychnos 1950. Tillhagen, Carl-Herman, Himlens stjärnor och vädrets makter, Stockholm: Natur och Kultur, 1991. von Block, Magnus Gabriel, Åtskillige Anmärkningar öfwer thesza Tiders Falske Astrolo­ giska, Phantastiska och Enthusiastiska Prognostiker, Spådomar och Prophetier […], Linköping 1708.

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Chapter 12 Contemporary Astrology in Denmark

Astrology in the Contemporary Period in Denmark Kirstine Munk

Historical Background

After being part and parcel of early modern intellectual culture (see the chapter Astrology in the Early Modern Period in Denmark in the present volume), astrology experienced a massive decline, but was like in other Western countries revived toward the end of the nineteenth century. The rise of astrology in the contemporary era in Denmark was here – as elsewhere – intimately connected with the successful dissemination of other esoteric currents, primarily the Theo­sophical movement, and until the mid-1950s astrology unfolded mainly within closed esoteric societies such as the Theosophical Society and the Anthroposophical Society. This period until the mid-1950s is not very well documented, and the present presentation will therefore mainly focus on astrology in late modernity. One of the best-known astrologers of the first part of the twentieth century was Max Heindel (1865–1919), who was born in Denmark but emigrated early in life to Scotland and later to California, where he founded the Rosicrucian Fellowship and wrote several books on astrology, among others Message of the Stars (1917). However, he is not part of the development of astrology in Den­ mark, which only took off many years after his departure. As for the period in focus in the present chapter, the earliest astrology book in Danish, Astrologi og symbolik (Astrology and Symbolism), was written by the Freemason Ove Rosmund (who later changed his name to Rosmon) and was published in 1926. Rosmon (1893–1961) is the most salient figure in Danish astrology prior to World War II. He also wrote the popular book De 12 mennesketyper. Den esoteriske astrologis grundprincipper (The Twelve Human Types: The Basic Principles of Esoteric Astrology) which was published in 1936 and later reprinted in 1944, 1956, and 1967. The Theosophical Society expanded in Denmark during the 1920s and many of the pioneers of astrology came from this movement. Among these one can mention Poul Kastrup (1910–1964) and Carl V. Hansen (1907–1976). Together with the flamboyant astrologer, fakir, hypnotist, and illusionist, Louis Brinkfort (1888–1958), they published the occult magazine OM. Louis Brinkfort wrote one of the first Danish sun sign astrology books, Zodiakken – din fødseldag, din

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skæbne (The Zodiac – Your Birthday, Your Destiny; published in 1947). Text ­passages from this book were used as sun sign descriptions in the divination machine in Copenhagen’s popular amusement park Tivoli. Poul Kastrup was among the first to give astrology classes (beginning in 1952), and Carl V. Hansen wrote several books, among others Astrologi (1965), which is considered to have been among the most influential astrology books on the market when astrology became mainstream in the late 1960s and onwards. Also, a Danish translation of Louis de Wohl’s Astrologi (1951) circulated throughout the 1950s and 1960s. An important shift took place on the Danish astrology scene in the mid1950s: “Fru Stella”, alias Irene Christensen, began to publish the monthly magazine Stjernerne (The Stars) in 1956 and two years later founded the first astrology school in Denmark, the I.C. Institute – an abbreviation for Irene Christensen as well as for a significant point in a chart. Both the magazine and the school still exist. Irene Christensen was not affiliated with any esoteric movements, and both her magazine and the school became pivotal in the development of Danish astrology as an “existential” and – by self-definition – non-religious discipline. In 1969, Gilbert Tjørnum, who was teaching at the I.C. Institute, published the book Astrologi. Horoskopets opstilling (Astrology: Chart Calculation), which had earlier appeared as a series in the magazine Stjernerne. The book gave a very didactic and simple instruction in chart calculation, so that anybody could now calculate a chart simply by following the steps of the book. In 1974, the school introduced a diploma exam in chart calculation and interpretation. Among the techniques to be mastered was the German astrologer Heinrich Kündig’s method of rectification. This method was considered the best by the teachers at the I.C. Institute, and since most Danish astrologers were taught here, Kündig’s method of rectification (according to which the “astrological birth” can only take place at certain mathematically appropriate times) has become one of the characteristic traits of Danish astrology. Another important figure in Danish astrology is the Hungarian Ferenc Szöllösi who had fled to Denmark in 1956. He had an immense number of clients and in 1969 created the first evening school classes in astrology, i.e., classes that are subsidised by the ministry of education and open for all. It may seem odd that the state would support such classes financially, but astrology was classified as a hobby along with sewing or painting and therefore entered the evening school curriculum almost without protests. Later others followed in his steps and during the 1970s, the evening school programme became instrumental in disseminating astrology as a legitimate occupation and hobby among the Danish population. In 1970, Szöllösi also published the popular

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books Astrologi. Rigtigt lært I–II, (Astrology taught correctly I–II) which for many people at the time became the pathway to astrology. Some of the bestknown Danish astrologers today (e.g., Karen Boesen and Claus Houlberg) were educated by him through the evening school programme. Astrology expanded through the 1980s and many new books appeared on the market, e.g., Horoskopets byggestene (The Building Blocks of the Horoscope; published in 1982) and Det progressive horoskops tolkning (The Interpretation of the Progressed Chart; published in 1985) by Birthe Kirk who was manager of the I.C. Institute from 1976 to 1986. The astrologers Johan Hjelmborg and Louise Kirsebom published Øjeblikshoroskopet. Teori, metode og astrologisk praksis (Horary Astrology: Theory, Method and Astrological Practice) in 1987, and the astrologer Karl Åge Jensen published Astrologiens verden (The World of Astrology) in 1989. The latter sold 20,000 copies, which is a very high number for the small Danish-language market. The effort of seeking scientific legitimacy resulted in Denmark in the book Astrologien i videnskabelig belysning (Astrology in the Light of Science; published in 1980) by Sven Frederik Fischer Svensson. There is a close connection between developments in the astrological milieu and technological developments, and the appearance of the personal computer resulted in a major growth of astrology throughout the 1980s. The Danish astrologer Laurids Højbjerg Pedersen was the first to design astrological software for computers, and these were exported internationally. The first program was made in 1981, and in 1986 the first astrological software designed specifically for a personal computer was on the market, which made chart calculation an easy task. Initially this software was used worldwide, but now it competes with other programmes, and the Danish software from Electric Ephemeris is today mainly used by Danish and Norwegian astrologers. (The Danish software includes the Kündig method of rectification which is used in both Denmark and Norway). The period from the mid-1980s until the mid-1990s became a golden age for astrology, and several new schools were founded, most of which disappeared when the peak was over. Among these one may mention Institut for Astrologi in Århus, which was affiliated with the I.C. Institute, Astrologskolen in Copen­ hagen which was led by the English-born Adrian Duncan, and The Unicorn School – an Anglophone astrology school in Copenhagen led by English-born Derek Seagrief and the American astrologer Tad Mann. Modern astrology is mainly an urban phenomenon, but during this peak astrology was widespread, and even smaller towns in Jutland could boast of having their own astrology schools.

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In 1990, the astrologer Karl Åge Jensen founded Skandinavisk Astrologi Skole (The Scandinavian School of Astrology), which is situated in Copenhagen as a part of Astrologihuset – a location in Copenhagen which is used for lectures and events on astrology and other types of modern divination and alternative therapy. The school now exists under the name Astrologisk Akademi after its fusion with Jupiterskolen in 2007. Jupiterskolen was launched by Claus and Laila Houlberg in 1990 and taught a combination of esoteric astrology and psychotherapy. It remains situated on the island of Bornholm, but has connections to Astrologisk Akademi in Copenhagen and even has a branch in Norway. Skandinavisk Astrologi Skole also had branches in Odense and Århus, but these have closed. In 1996, the esoteric astrologer Holger Stavnsbjerg started Den Astrologiske Skole in Århus, which teaches both classical and esoteric astrology. While the general interest in classical astrology has declined since 2000 (measured in the number of astrology students in the schools), esoteric astrology, although marginal, has remained relatively steady.

The Organisation of Astrology

From a sociological point of view, contemporary astrology is a dynamic and minimally organised religious system. In Denmark, the first organisation of astrologers, SAFA, Sammenslutningen af Fagastrologer (Society of Professional Astrologers), was founded in 1978 by Birthe Kirk, who was at the same time also manager of the I.C. Institute. SAFA later changed its name into DAF, Danske Astrologers Forening (Union of Danish Astrologers), and later again into Dansk Astrologforening – in colloquial speech simply Astrologforeningen – which was finally dissolved in 2003 after a long history of internal disagreements. Denmark does therefore not have an umbrella organisation for astrologers, but there is an interest organisation, Ekliptika, which organises astrology lectures and discussion evenings in Copenhagen. Ekliptika was founded in 1980 and is open to all types of astrologers and to anybody who is interested in astrology. The gravitational centres in contemporary Danish astrology are currently The Astrology House in Denmark and the I.C. Institute. The I.C. Institute holds occa­sional master classes, until the recent past often involving Christian Borup (d. 2015) who was by far the most popular and well-known Danish astrologer. Christian Borup was manager of the school from 1986 to 1997. He often gave lectures abroad and has been instrumental in bringing foreign guest lecturers to the I.C. Institute. The I.C. Institute is still affiliated with the monthly magazine Stjernerne and has a publishing unit by the same name.

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The Astrology House was founded by Karl Åge Jensen in 1992. It was situated in Valby (in the vicinity of Copenhagen) until 2002, when it moved to more spacious surroundings in the centre of Copenhagen. The Astrology House com­prises the astrology school, Astrologisk Akademi, The Astrological Museum, an astrological telephone consultation service, the astrological quarterly magazine Horoskopet, a small publishing company which specialises in astrological literature, an auditorium, and consultation rooms which The Astrology House sublets to various alternative therapists and divination experts. Besides astrology, The Astrology House offers clairvoyance, healing, reflexology, hypnosis, psychotherapy, massage, etc. Many of the astrologers who are affiliated with The Astrology House also claim to master other forms of divination. In this sense, the Astrology House is typical of the New Age network, whereas the I.C. Institute focuses on astrology. The Astrological Museum is the world’s first museum of astrology. It was founded in 1999 by a number of dedicated astrologers and comprises a large book collection, databases, and curios. In 2003, the Astrological Museum began to publish the Internet journal Cornelius which was dedicated to documentation of and research into astrology. Since 2003, the museum has also published a free information e-letter, Sophie, which is concerned with the history of astrology in Denmark, and in 2007 the international information e-letter, Tycho, appeared. In 1997 the Danish business astrologer Karen Boesen founded ISBA (Inter­ national Society of Business Astrologers). The organisation aims to ‘increase public awareness of professional and business astrology’. Its membership continues to increase and at the time of writing has members in most parts of the world. On a more local level, Center for Esoterisk Astrologi was founded by Holger Stavnsbjerg in Århus in 2005. The centre organises guest lectures on both classical and esoteric astrology. Much of the internal astrological debate in recent times has taken place on the Internet, first through one of the largest newspapers in Denmark, Politiken, which had a Bulletin Board Service where astrological “conferences” took place. When this service closed down in 1999, the debate moved to Astrologyforum.dk, situated on Christian Borup’s personal website. Further­ more, when Astrolog­­foreningen still existed, it hosted a lively web debate forum, Den Røde Tråd (The Red Thread). At the time of writing, Den Røde Tråd only exists as a database at The Astrological Museum. Some of the astrologers continue the discussions at Astrologiforeningens Gratistråd which is sponsored by The Astrolog­ical Museum.

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Astrology and the Media

In contemporary Denmark, practically everybody is exposed to astrology via the modern media. Sun sign astrology appears in almost all magazines and tabloids as well as on the Internet. Magazines have experienced increased sales when they offer extra astrology related material, and almost 40 % of the readers of the largest tabloid, Ekstrabladet, are said to read their horoscope every day. The Internet grew explosively during the mid-1990s, and compared to the rest of Europe, Denmark and other Scandinavian countries were in the ­forefront, and today the Internet offers numerous Danish astrology sites. At Jubii.com – the largest Danish Internet portal – approximately half of the users access the astrology pages on a regular basis. Astrology via SMS has also become a rapidly expanding business. Not surprisingly, mainly individuals in the age bracket 15 to 35 use mediated astrology. There is a close connection between the development of modern media and astrological currents. As mentioned above, in Denmark, modern astrology experienced a peak in the late 1980s and the beginning of the 1990s. A major reason for this is the fact that the popular astrologer Birthe Kirk appeared on national television every Saturday evening during prime time, interpreting the charts and guessing the identity of various celebrities. As a result, astrologers in Denmark had more clients than ever, astrology schools arose in numerous localities, and a new branch, “business astrology”, appeared on the scene and was relatively well received in business circles. From 2002 and the following years, astrology experienced its most recent boom in Denmark due to another entertainment TV programme, The 6th Sense, which was running on weekdays during prime time and had close to one million viewers each week, i.e., one-fifth of the Danish population. In The 6th Sense two teams competed about guessing the identity of two secret celebrity guests in the show. One of the teams included the popular astrologer, Christian Borup, whose performance made astrology so popular in Denmark that his colleagues have nick-named this latest peak “the Christian Borup effect”. This effect was clearly measured both by the number of astrology clients in astrological consultations and on Internet statistics. Following the success of the TV show, Christian Borup published an introductory astrology book, Astrology for nysgerrige (Astrology for the Curious; published in 2003). The price of participating in the media is that one becomes defined by its entertainment value, and astrology in Denmark is in many ways characterised by the postmodern conditions of mediated experience: It has to be immediately

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interesting, inspiring, and quick. Astrology has therefore for many of its contemporary users become part of a daily morning ritual: When the work day begins and the computer is started, the first thing to do is to grab a cup of coffee and access one’s favourite Internet site with the daily stars.

Who are the Danish Astrology Clients?

Danish clients who use astrology on the Internet or who seek personal consultations are relatively well-educated urban dwellers with medium to high levels of education. In Denmark, as elsewhere, women constitute the vast majority of astrology users. Approximately three-quarters of the clients who consult an astrologer are women, but there is an increase in the number of male clients. Astrology is a middle-class phenomenon which is now connected with the processes of postmodernity. Increased media interaction, increased levels of information, distrust in science, and a challenged sense of self are some of the factors that contribute to the growth of astrology. The lack of a privileged viewpoint creates an opening towards alternative visions of the world, and Denmark is one of the countries in the world that is most clearly affected by the social conditions of postmodernity. Compared to the rest of Scandinavia, Denmark has little heavy industry, and a significant part of the export surplus is created by the film and fashion industries. Postmodernity marginalises people in a way which is not gender specific, and this is probably both the reason for the increase of male clients as well the reason why astrology has such a prominent place in Denmark compared to the rest of Scandinavia. The use of astrology does not replace other religious orientations. In Den­ mark, people can belong to the mainstream Churches and still find astrology a meaningful practice, or they may consider themselves non-religious, or may be interested in New Age spirituality. Furthermore, the use of astrology is not correlated with belief in astrology. People may believe in astrology, without actively using astrological services, or they may use astrology regularly while insisting that they do not believe in it. Astrology in contemporary, modern Denmark is an input that can be used on a daily basis (e.g., on the Internet), or during a crisis when people prefer an astrological consultation, but due to this loose connection between belief and practice, interviews with Danish clients indicate that they seldom follow the advice they get (Munk 2009, 2011).

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The Main Characteristics of Astrology in Denmark

Despite the fact that Denmark is such a small country, the international influence on Danish astrology is significant, and Danish astrologers interact fre­quently with astrologers abroad. They often teach and give lectures in other countries, where they present their newly developed techniques of interpretation. The afore-mentioned Christian Borup was a regular speaker at international conferences, and had an impact on the development of astrology in Russia when astrology began flourish there just after the fall of the iron curtain. The astrologers Johan Hjelmborg and Louise Kirsebom have created their own “school” of astrological practice and often teach in German-speaking countries. ISBA (International Society of Business Astrologers) was founded by Danish Karen Boesen, and astrologers from other countries have settled in Denmark from where they maintain their international connections. As we have seen, Copenhagen at one point even had an Anglophone astrology school. The interaction between astrology in Denmark and the rest of Scandinavia has mainly been between Denmark and Norway: Many astrologers in Denmark, but also quite a few astrologers in Norway, use the Kündig method of rectification, and Danish software produced by Electric Ephemeris is therefore easily sold in both countries. The Danish astrology school on the Island of Bornholm, Jupiterskolen, has a branch in Norway, and books on astrology in the Danish language can be found in Norwegian bookstores. Norwegian astrologers have also on several occasions taught in Denmark and vice versa. Whereas astrology in other countries in contemporary times is often eclectically connected with New Age spirituality in some form, the more exclusive approach, which has always been characteristic of the oldest Danish school of astrology, the I.C. Institute, is still dominant. Danish astrologers from the I.C. Institute are generally reluctant to combine astrology with any particular religious interpretations. They often understand astrology as an existential approach, whereas astrology at the Astrology House and its connected schools thrive within a New Age network.

References

Borup, Christian, Astrologi for nysgerrige, København: Aschehoug, 2003. Brinkfort, Louis, Zodiakken – din fødselsdag, din skæbne: Skematisk udarbejdet, Køben­ havn: Emil Brönniches Forlag, 1947. Christensen, Irene, Horoskopets byggestene, København: Forlaget Stjernerne, 1978.

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Heindel, Max & Augusta Voss Heindel, The Message of the Stars: An Esoteric Exposition of Natal and Medical Astrology Explaining the Arts of Reading the Horoscope and Diagnosing Disease, Oceanside, Calif.: The Rosicrucian Fellowship, 1917. Hjelmborg, Johan & Louise Kirsebom, Øjeblikshoroskopet: Teori, metode og astrologisk praksis, Gylling: Klitrose, 1987. Jensen, Carl V., Astrologi, København: Borgens Forlag, 1965. Jensen, Karl Åge, Astrologiens verden, København: Gyldendal, 1989. Kirk, Birthe, Astrologi: Horoskopets tydning, København: Forlaget Stjernerne 1982. ——— . Det progressive horoskops tolkning, København: Forlaget Stjernerne 1985. Kündig, Heinrich, Astrologische Prognose, Zürich: Verlag Max S. Metz, 1955. Munk, Kirstine, Signs of the Times: Cosmology and Ritual Practice in Modern, Western Astrology, Dissertation, University of Southern Denmark, 2007. ——— . “Det hypotetiske liv: Om brugen af astrologi i senmoderne tid”, AURA 1 (2009), 1–19. ———. “‘Baby in a Bowl’ and Other Stories: Socialization in Astrological Narrative”, in: Armin W. Geertz & Jeppe Sinding Jensen (eds.), Religious Narrative, Cognition and Culture: Image and Word in the Mind of Narrative, London: Equinox, 2011, 291–302. ——— . “The Stars Down to Earth: Why Educated Women in the Western World Use Astrology”, Bulletin for the Study of Religion, 41 (2), 2012, 3–9. Rosmon, Ove, De 12 mennesketyper og den esoteriske astrologis grundprincipper, København: Skandinavisk Litografisk Forlag, 1936. Rosmund, Ove [sic], Astrologi og symbolik, København: Co-F.M. Forlag, 1926. Svensson, Sven Frederik Fischer, Astrologien i videnskabelig belysning, Viby: Strubes Forlag, 1980. Szöllösi, Ferenc, Astrologi: Rigtigt lært, I–II, København: Strube, 1970. Tjørnum, Gilbert, Astrologi: Horoskopets opstilling, København: Forlaget Stjernerne, 1969. Wohl, Louis de, Astrologi, København: Westermann, 1951.

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Chapter 13 Contemporary Astrology in Finland

Astrology in the Contemporary Period in Finland Tom Sjöblom

Horoscopes and Popular Astrology

A discussion of the role played by astrology in modern Finnish society is made difficult because of the lack of scholarly research on the topic. At the time of writing (2014), nobody had systematically investigated this issue, and thus the data for this discussion have been summarised from anecdotal evidence collected from the field as well as from studies dealing with the Finnish religious or spiritual environment in general. Thus, we lack information, for example, of the extent to which people buy astrological literature or to what degree professional astrologers are consulted by individuals and corporations before they make important decisions. As in other Western countries, all the above can be found in modern Finnish society, but all we can say is that the number of people who seem to seriously believe in the predictive power of astrology appears to be relatively small (see Tikkanen 2007: 10–13). In a survey conducted by the Church Research Institute in Finland in 1996, 10% of the respondents said that they believed in astrology, while 87% thought astrology was totally unconvincing (Heino 1997: 360, 364). A more recent study, conducted by the Research Institute in 2004, confirms these results (9% strongly believe in astrology, 84% strongly disbelieve in it) and indicates that at least during the last decade, the Finnish attitudes towards astrology have not changed in any noteworthy way (unpublished survey data generously provided by Kimmo Ketola). The data above suggest that Finns tend to believe in astrology to a lesser extent than people in many other Western countries. This result can, however, be at least partly explained by the fact that the questions that the participants in these surveys were asked highlighted the belief in the accuracy of the information gained through astrology. Even professional astrologers today seldom argue that they can provide totally accurate information. Instead they point out that astrology works by providing a map that can be used as an aid for life management (see Hätönen 2007). Indeed, in a more informal net-based survey organised by the magazine City in 2001, as many as 41 % of women and 14 % of men claimed to believe in astrology. Most of the participants of this survey were urban and well-educated young people (See ). On the other hand, the Finnish belief environment is both rather secularised and monolithic, as it is organised in an Evangelical-Lutheran Christian framework. This environment does not encourage people to adopt beliefs and practices that are considered “superstitious” or “foolish” by many. This might be an additional factor explaining the low interest in astrology in Finland, as indicated in the surveys. Astrology is a complex of beliefs and practices that can adopt various forms and can be integrated into very different belief systems. This means that few if any religious groups and institutions construct their activities solely on the basis of astrology. It is not possible here to discuss all the various religious communities in Finland that to a more limited extent use astrology in their teachings and practices. Instead, I will discuss the profiles and programmes of the two registered astrological societies in Finland. Suomen astrologinen seura (The Astrological Association of Finland ) provides a more general forum for those interested in astrology, while Suomen ammattiastrologit (The Association for Professional Astrologers in Finland ) defines itself as an information forum as well as a provider of astrological services, and as an interest organisation for professional astrologers.

The Astrological Association of Finland (Sas)

The Astrological Association of Finland (sas) was founded in 1964 in Helsinki. Independently of this association, another astrological association was founded in the city of Tampere in 1982. While these two associations are officially independent from each other, they do co-operate and seem to co-ordinate their activities to the extent that I treat them here together under the label of the Helsinki based association. In addition to Helsinki and Tampere, The Astrological Association has organised group activity also in Turku and Pori. As mentioned above, the main object of the association is to spread information about astrology for the general public and to function as a discussion and debate forum for all those interested in astrology. At the end of 2004, it had around 520 registered members, a number that has remained on the same level at least for the last decade or so (see also Heino 1997: 366). According to its webpage, the association operates by organising public lectures and discussions about once a month. These include events for reading astrological charts. In addition, it administrates an e-mail discussion group called Linnunrata (The Milky Way) and organises study-groups for particular topics. Every summer a weekend seminar is organised by the association. In

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addition to the quite extensive web-based services, the association also runs a small astrological library in Helsinki and sells astrological literature. Most of the activities are open to the general public but the library is only for those who have paid the membership fee. sas publishes Astro Logos, an astrological periodical for both beginners and more advanced readers. It has been published since 1984 and today appears four times every year. The periodical includes discussions of current topics as well as articles by both Finnish and foreign experts in the field. The language of the publication is Finnish. However, the most important activity of the association is to carry out examinations in astrology, something the association has done yearly for its members since 1996. The idea behind this examination is to raise the status of and respect for astrology by organising an official examination, to influence public opinion regarding the credibility of astrology and to regulate the professional competence of practicing astrologers in Finland. The examination programme underwent a thorough revision in 2004. Today it consists of a three-phased programme. The basic examination covers everything one needs in order to master astrological symbolism and basic astrological tools, such as charts. The basic examination takes two days. The advanced examination includes the history of astrology and the methods for reading of the planetary charts. It strives for a more holistic understanding of the astrological principles. As with the basic examination, the advanced examination also takes two days to complete. The highest-level examination covers the mathematical and technical aspects of astrology. Those who wish to pass this level must have some experience of doing astrological readings. A large part of the examination consists of drawing up charts and interpreting them, based on birth data presented to the candidate. The examination is governed and supervised by an examination board consisting of five astrologers chosen every third year by the general meeting of sas. There is no available information about how many people have actually taken these examinations.

The Association for Professional Astrologers in Finland

In 1979, professional astrologers in Finland organised themselves into Suomen Ammattiastrologien Liitto (SAAL), or the Union of Professional Astrologers in Finland, in order to promote the working conditions of professional astrologers in Finland (Heino 1997: 366). The union was reorganised and renamed in 2000 as Suomen Ammattiastrologit ry., or the Association for Professional Astrologers in Finland. Being a professional organisation, the association is not

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open to the general public, but it does provide astrological consultations via its members and its web pages contain information about astrology in general and particularly in Finland. According to the association there are around twenty professional astrologers in Finland. Even of this modest number, only half practise their profession full-time. The low number of professional astrologers in Finland has to some observers suggested that the attitude of many Finns towards astrology is rather negative. In the words of Maarit Laurento, herself a professional astrologer and the chairperson of sas, Finns are still “somewhat allergic” to astrology (Tikkanen 2007: 10). As with astrology in general, we lack general research data on who uses the services of professional astrologers in Finland. According to Laurento, most of her clients are not individuals but businesses in need of consultation (quoted in Tikkanen 2007: 10). A survey done by the astrologer Raimo Nikula among his own clients (550 individuals) provides some idea of the general profile of who consults professional astrologers in Finland. The results of this survey are as follow: Habitual Residence Helsinki with surroundings Other cities and towns Rural areas

52% 13% 35%

This result suggests that it is basically from the urban population of the Helsinki metropolitan area that professional astrologers receive their clients. Only 5% of the clients are from Tampere, even though this is the city with the second largest client group in the survey. Age Groups  0 – 15 years 16 – 30 years 30 – 45 years 45 – 60 years Over 65 years

 5% 22% 60% 11%  2%

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The first group consists of children, whose astrological charts have been ordered by their parents. Most clients seem to belong to lower middle age bracket. Furthermore, Nikula points out that 91% of his clients are women. The number of women among the clients of astrologers in Finland appears to be exceptionally high in comparison to available data from other countries. The reasons for this are not known, but the role of traditional Finnish upbringing may play a role. Finnish men are not accustomed to seeking advice for their problems from professional helpers of any kind. It should perhaps be noted that an official survey conducted by The Church Research Institute suggests that there is no noticeable difference between women and men in how helpful they think astrology is in predicting their future lives.

Conclusions

During the first decade of the twenty-first century, the supply of astrological services in Finland has increased and become more diverse. For example, in the beginning of 2007, Astro Bar, an astrological step-in bar opened in Helsinki. The idea with the bar is that anyone can just step in at any time and without a previous appointment receive an astrological analysis. Clients can choose the desired analysis from a menu and receive it with a cup of coffee or tea (Tikkanen 2007: 10). There is also an astrological park called Huvila Härkä (Villa Taurus) in Somero, about 100 km north-west of Helsinki. This park provides similar services to the Astro Bar, and also features astrological exhibitions and installations. See . Without reliable research, the present status of astrology in Finland is hard to estimate. All the major surveys indicate that “serious believers” in astrology are few and that this situation has remained unchanged for some time now. Still, the growing supply of astrological services suggests that at some level astrology might indeed be more popular among the general public than what the results of the official results would suggest. In any case, astrologers in Finland do not want to profile their craft as a belief system or religious tradition. Instead, they promote the idea that astrology is a science among other sciences and stress the role of astrologers as life-management consultants rather than as prophetic visionaries with supernatural abilities.

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References

Hätönen, Paula, “Aakkoset ammattiin: Astrologi ei ennusta, vaan tulkitsee”, Turun Sa­ nomat Internet version 6 March 2007 . Heino, Harri, Mihin Suomi tänään uskoo, Helsinki: WSOY, 1997. Mustelin, Nils, “Astrologian oudot maailmat”, in: Heta Häyry, Hannu Karttunen & Matti Virtanen (eds.), Paholaisen asianajaja. Opaskirja skeptikoille, Helsinki: Ursa, 1989, 123–169. Tikkanen, Elisa, “Planeettojen pauloissa”, Presso 6 January 2007, 10–13.

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Chapter 14 Contemporary Astrology in Sweden

Astrology in the Contemporary Period in Sweden Jenny-Ann Brodin Danell

The Establishment of Modern Astrology in Sweden

As in the rest of the Western world, astrology in Sweden almost disappeared during the eighteenth and much of the nineteenth century. From being considered as at least in part scientific, i.e., as a sub-discipline of early astronomy, astrology came to be regarded as superstition and pseudo-science (as can be seen, e.g., from the early twentieth century Swedish encyclopedia Nordisk Familjebok, pp. 630–632). In the late nineteenth-century a general comeback and popularisation of astrology took place, a revival that is often associated with a general spread of esoteric ideas, especially in the guise of Theosophy. There is very little available information about precisely how modern astrology was established in Sweden, although there are suggestions regarding a similar comeback in Sweden as in the rest of the Western world (Dahlin 1983: 35). A reawakening interest in astrology, and some sort of establishment of modern astrological perspectives, can nevertheless be observed in the publication of new astrological literature during the late nineteenth century. Astrological associations were also established during this period of time. However, a more comprehensive revival would not take place until the middle of the twentieth century. Today, astrology is arguably the most popular and commercialised form of Western esotericism in Sweden. It is possible to buy astrological literature in almost any bookstore. There are daily and weekly horoscopes in newspapers and magazines, especially in evening papers and so-called women’s magazines. On the Internet, there are countless web pages related to astrology. It is possible to get personal consultations, computer-generated horoscopes, and download the software necessary to do the calculations on your own. However, like their counterparts elsewhere, most professional astrologers in Sweden, and many adherents, make a clear distinction between these popular forms of astrology and their “serious” counterparts. Astrology, in all forms, has met severe critique in media and popular scientific debate (such as in the sceptical publications Allt om vetenskap, Folkvett, and Humanisten).

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Astrological Literature

The first modern astrological literature was published in Sweden at the end of the nineteenth century. In 1872 Stjernornas profetior: eller himmeltecknens inflytande på våra öden (Prophecies of the Stars: or the Influence of the Signs on our Destinies) was published by an anonymous author. A large part of this book consists of astrological charts, but it also included poetic descriptions, written in rhyme, of the twelve signs of the zodiac. A couple of decades later, several translations of astrological literature were published. Examples include Astrologi för nybörjare (a translation of an unidentified original title by Thomas H. Burgoyne; Swedish transl. 1916), Planeternas inflytande på människans liv: med karaktärstolkning av personer, födda under tecken by Eleanor Kirk (The Influence of the Zodiac Upon Human Life, originally published in 1894; Swedish transl. in 1926), and Astrologi: Levnadstolkning by Paul von Gerich (Astrologia, published in Finnish in 1925; Swedish transl. the same year). All of these books are examples of psychological and symbolic astrology. Some of them, such as the volume by Kirk, are written in an esoteric and occult tradition. The boom of astrological literature in Sweden took place in the 1970s and the 1980s. The titles that became bestsellers were books focusing on love, relationships, and psychological aspects of life. Most of them are based on sun-signs. The most widely sold book in this category is Ulla Sallert’s Astrologi – ett sätt att leva (Astrology – A Way of Life) originally published in 1974. Sallert (b. 1923) had a career as a famous musical actress, with an international Broadway success in the 1950s. Her book introduces the reader to the twelve signs of the zodiac and to the psychological characteristics of people born within each sign. It is not concerned with any technical or mathematical details on calculating horoscopes, nor on detailed interpretations. This kind of literature (other examples being Appelgren 1994 and Granberg 1998) to a considerable extent overlaps with general self-help books. These astrological books often incorporated ideas from other esoteric traditions and from Eastern religions, for example ideas on karma, reincarnation, alchemy, holism, numerology, Jungian symbolism, and healing. Another frequent feature is the reference to psychoanalytic ideas of a general kind. Another popular kind of astrological literature that sold widely in the 1970s and the 1980s consists of introductions to the practice of calculating and interpreting horoscopes. Examples include Jonson 1982, Stenudd 1979 and 1991, and Almqvist 1984. Similar esoteric ideas as those mentioned above are often found in this literature. The focus, however, is on technical and mathematical aspects of horoscopes and on suggestions of how to interpret charts.

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Much of the bestselling astrological literature from this period consisted of translations from other languages into Swedish. For example, Linda Goodman’s books on sun-signs (see the references at the end of this chapter) sold out in several editions in Sweden. Highly specialised literature, for example on how to calculate mundane horoscopes or transits, for advanced astrologers, was usually not available in Swedish at all.

Astrology in the Swedish Media

Daily horoscopes were introduced in the largest evening paper in Sweden, Aftonbladet, in January 1961. Under the headline Tänk om stjärnorna har rätt … ert dagliga horoskop av Frances Drake (Imagine If the Stars Are Right … Your Daily Horoscope by Frances Drake), short sun-sign horoscopes were presented, on the same spread as the cartoons. The presumably pseudonymous Frances Drake disappeared shortly after the introduction, the headline was changed to Ditt Dagliga horoskop – vad ni kan vänta av (Your Daily Horoscope – What Can You Expect Of …) [date of the day] and the style has changed slightly over the years, but the overall focus on personal relationships, work, successes and potential failures, has remained the same. A few years after Aftonbladet, in 1967, horoscopes also began appearing in the second largest evening paper, Expressen. Since the 1960s and 1970s, weekly and monthly horoscopes have been a frequent feature in women’s magazines in Sweden. In the oldest one, Hemmets journal, published by Egmont since 1921, astrology and horoscopes have been salient features since 1959. General sun-sign horoscopes are presented every week. In addition, there are often specialised horoscopes on topics such as love, diet, health, and gambling for the upcoming year. On an irregular basis, articles related to astrology, for example about the future of royalties, appear (Ahlin 2001: 131–133). From the 1980s, the magazine came to associate astrology with numerology. A similar content is found in other women’s magazines, such as Allers, Året runt, and Allas veckotidning, and in magazines targeted at a younger audience, such as Veckorevyn and Frida. In all of these, short weekly horoscopes are presented. Over the years, ask-the-astrologer columns and introductions to astrology, held in a general and simple style, have appeared. In almost all of these magazines there are advertisements for astrological services, such as computer generated horoscopes and personal consultations. In 1997, the magazine Hennes Tecken (Her Sign) was launched by the publisher Egmont Richter. In many ways, Hennes Tecken was a traditional women’s magazine. Articles about fashion, home decorating, and celebrities were mixed with editorials on love, work, and relationships. However, as the title indicates,

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Hennes Tecken was characterised by a particular focus on astrology. In each issue, there was a two-week horoscope, based on sun-sign astrology. Other regular features were astrological columns (for example on the relationship between astrology and science), “star astrology” (where an astrologers interpreted the birth chart of a well-known Swede, the celebrity being interviewed in relation to the horoscope), “ask the astrologer” (where the readers could ask personal questions to one of the astrologers), and “school of astrology” (where basic astrology was taught in an easily accessible style). In these issues of the magazine, there were usually other stories, for example about what it was like to work as a professional astrologer, or on how to use astrology in the workplace. On an average, there were 15–18 pages on astrology in each issue. Although Hennes Tecken had a specific focus on astrology, the style was for the most part characterised by humour and a tongue-in-cheek attitude even in pieces written by astrologers. In several of the articles and the columns, the astrologers pointed out that it is impossible to give precise predictions by means of horoscopes. Horoscopes should be regarded as general clues. In contrast, there were also references to putative scientific proofs of astrology, even though these references were in very general terms. In 1998 the magazine was re-named Hennes (Hers). The two-week horoscopes could still be found until the paper ceased being published in 2009, but the distinct focus on astrology faded away quite soon after the new name was introduced.

Astrology on the Internet

Since the middle of the 1990s, there has been a huge supply of astrological services on the Internet. People write about astrology on their personal home pages and blogs, astrologers advertise their services, astrological associations spread information about their activities, and there are numerous commercial services, for example, computer generated horoscopes, software for astrological calculations, and on-line astrological tutorials. There is also astrological content in social media, such as Facebook and Twitter, and astrological applications for cell-phones (such as daily horoscopes). Most of these services are available in English, even if some of the authors and practitioners are from Sweden. The majority of these commercial services are, like most of the astrological content in newspapers and women’s magazines, based on sun-sign astrology. The horoscopes are usually written in a short format, characterised by general formulations. However, the Internet is also used by professional astrologers, who publish more elaborated web pages. Individual websites can be short-lived, but the

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contents typically include chart calculations, astrology lessons, astrological software and relationship analyses, downloads of astrology-related images, links to software and other astrology resources, downloadable books, distance education, monthly newsletters, ask-the-astrologer columns, discussion groups and mailing lists and horoscopes for the upcoming year and advertisements for personal consultations. Most of the services on these home pages require the payment of fees, especially the personal consultations.

The Organisation of Astrology

As in the New Age movement in general (Brodin 2001) the adherents of astrology are seldom members of specific astrological organisations or groups. The organisations are usually professional associations, even though interested laypeople sometimes can be members. As will be seen from the following remarks, many attempts to formally organise astrologers have been made, but nearly all have proved short-lived. The first modern astrological association in Sweden appears to be Astro­ logiska förbundet (The Astrological Association) founded in Stockholm on 14 October 1910 by Gustaf Ljungqvist. The articles of the association were published in issue number seven (1910) of Aur: tidskrift för esoteriskt studium (Aur: Journal of Esoteric Studies). Aur was a publication that was limited to the membership of a number of occultist organisations in Sweden, including the Martinist Order and the Hermetic Brotherhood of Luxor. The journal carried several articles on astrology, and it even included advertisements for the sale of horoscopes. The organisation published some astrological titles, such as C.A. Lilje’s Tabeller öfver de astrologiska husen för Stockholm, Göteborg, Helsing­ borg (1912) (Tables of Astrological Houses for Stockholm, Gothenburg, and Helsingborg) and arranged lectures. During the 1950s and 1960s, there were some public astrological events. For example, Medborgarskolan, an institute for community education located in Stockholm, arranged lectures on astrological topics. In the 1960s and 1970s, there were several further attempts to organise professional astrologers in Sweden. In 1976 there was an astrological meeting at Hallhyttans Herrgård, followed by another meeting in the southern Swedish town of Ingelstad a year later. At these meetings preparations were made for launching an astrological association, including some financial arrange­ments. However, it took yet another couple of years before Sveriges Astrologiska Riksförbund (The National Astrological Association of Sweden) was founded in 1983 (Ekström 1983: 1–2). The original board included a number of well-known Swedish astrologers, such as Ivan Wilhelm, Anders Ekström, Per

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Dahlin, Helge Hjelmeus, Outi Ekström, Karin Nordgren, and Hans Eriksson (Ekström 2007: 3). The organisation was created for professional astrologers and arranged conferences and lectures. In the founding year, 1983, they had 274 members (Ekström 1984: 1). Sveriges Astrologiska Riksförbund was dissolved in 1992. During the 1980s several local organisations were established in Sweden. For example, there were organisations and networks in the cities of Stockholm (­Stock­holmsastrologerna), Gothenburg (Göteborgsastrologerna), Malmö (Malmö Astrologiförening), Mönsterås (Kräftans vändkrets, Tropic of Cancer), Halmstad (Asterix), Helsingborg, and Västerås (n.a.: 1989: x). Many of these organisations arranged seminars and lectures, and had newsletter for their members. With very few exceptions, these organisations were only in existence for a couple of years. The most vigorous local organisation at the time of writing is Malmö Astrologiförening, which was established in 1983. In 1997, the organisation was reorganised under the name Vintergatan (The Milky Way), and publishes a paper with the same name. The association describes itself as a politically and religiously independent organisation with the goal of supporting a serious development and diffusion of astrology (n.a. 1999: 38). In 1997 they had 120 members (Sundbro 1998: 1). Over the years Vintergatan has arranged many lectures and courses in basic and advanced astrology. As a reaction to the problem of organising astrologers in Sweden formally, a network was formed in 1996, Astrologinätverket Prometheus. In 1997 the first Pro­metheus Forum was arranged in Steninge, in the south of Sweden. According to the organisers, this was the first astrological conference for sixteen years in Sweden. The meeting was attended by forty astrologers, and was primarily concerned with the status of contemporary Swedish astrology. Thereafter, a Pro­metheus Forum was arranged almost annually, either by the board of Prome­theus or in collaboration with other Swedish astrological organisations, such as Vintergatan and Asterix. At the meetings there have been numerous lectures on a wide variety of topics (for example on how to live with astrology and different ways of interpreting chart data). There have also been discussions on ethical guidelines among professional astrologers. Astrolo­ ginät­verket Prometheus was dissolved at the end of 2007.

Astrological Magazines

The first modern astrological magazines in Sweden were Astrologen – med horoskop och övernaturligt (The Astrologer – with Horoscopes and [Information

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on] the Supernatural) and Libra, both launched in the early 1980s. The aim of Astrologen was to create a platform for people interested in life and the unknown; ‘… we who are a bit romantic, fond of feelings and sometimes also “knock on wood” and spit when we see a black cat crossing the street from left to right …’ (Benthorn 1983: 1). The content was both astrological and generally esoteric, and included such topics as life after death, parapsychology, tarot, numerology, and the I Ching. A regular column was “My contact with the unknown”, where readers were encouraged to share their personal experiences of the paranormal. The astrological content was presented in a popular style, with monthly sun-sign horoscopes, ask-the-astrologer columns, and book reviews. There were also some reports on astrological research, on the relationship between science and astrology, and the societal role of the astrologer. In 1986 the magazine was re-named Hela Livet (All of Life; Nessling 1987: 3). However, only a few more issues were published and the magazine soon ceased appearing. In 1981 Per Dahlin published the first issue of Libra. A few years later, in 1983–84, this publication became the members’ magazine of Sveriges Astro­ logiska Riksförbund (Ekström 2007: 3). The board included Per Dahlin and Ivan Wilhelm, who also contributed many of the articles in the magazine. Libra was, according to the board, a magazine for professional astrologers. In the first issue, Anders Ekström wrote that it is in the interest of everyone [in SAR and in Libra] to present astrology in an objective way – and to distinguish serious practitioners from their less serious counterparts (Ekström 1983: 3). The magazine was characterised by specialised and rather technical articles on astrological topics, for example on so-called novien horoscopes and mundane horoscopes, on astrological computer programs, and on the nature of the aspects and transits. In editorials and in articles, the relationship between astrology and science was often discussed. The book reviews often focused on the shortcomings of popular astrological literature, especially concerning calculations. In the last year of publication, 1993, the magazine was published by Jupiter-stiftelsen, since Sveriges Astrologiska Riksförbund had by then been dissolved. During the years 1990 to 1995, the magazine Nya tidsåldern (The New Age) was published by the organisation with the same name. This magazine was not exclusively devoted to astrology but also included what could be characterised as general New Age content. The editors were Erica Larsson, Sam Christiansson, Leif Linder, and Hans Eriksson. In 1994 another magazine, Zodiak, was launched by Leif Linder. In contrast to Libra, which was a non-commercial magazine, Zodiak was printed in colour and was sold in general stores and newsstands. The magazine contained book

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reviews, interviews with astrologers, and reports from various astrology-related events. It also published astrological advertisements. However, there were few, if any, in-depth astrological articles. The magazine also included more general New Age content, for example reports from New Age festivals. In 1997, Zodiak had 1,200 subscribers and an edition of 5,000 copies per issue. In the same year, the magazine ceased being published. In the same year, in January 1997, the local astrological association in Malmö Vintergatan published a magazine with the same name. It contained book reviews, specialised articles, reports from astrological events, and translations of articles published in international astrological magazines. Many of the articles were written by the editor Mark Beal. The printed edition of Vintergatan ceased to appear at the end of 2005 (Beal 2005: 1). After that, the content continued to be published on the association’s website. From 2001, Astrologinätverket Prometheus published the magazine Prome­ theus, aimed both at beginners and professional astrologers. The magazine continued to be published until the end of 2007.

References

Ahlin, Lars, New Age – konsumtionsvara eller värden att kämpa för? Lund: KSF AB, 2001. Almqvist, Michael, Komplett handbok i astrologi – ställ och tolka ditt horoskop – alla nödvändiga tabeller, Stockholm: Legenda, 1984. Anon., Stjernornas profetior eller himmeltecknens inflytande på våra öden, Stockholm: Sigfrid Flodins förlag, 1872. ——— . “Stjärnorna spår … styr stjärnorna våra öden. Tror ni det, så läs här vad som väntar er under den kommande veckan”, Hemmets Journal, 1 (1959), 50. ——— . “Astrologiföreningar”, Libra, 33 (1989). ——— . “Astrologiföreningen Vintergatan”, Vintergatan, 1 (1999). Appelgren, Anne Marie, Astrologi idag – självkännedom genom symboler, Västerås: ICA, 1994. Beal, Mark, “Ingress”, Vintergatan, 4 (2005). Benthorn, Agneta, “Välkommen till Astrologen”, Astrologen, 1 (1983). Brodin, Jenny-Ann, Religion till salu? En sociologisk studie av New Age i Sverige, Stock­ holm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 2001. Burgoyne, T.H., Astrologi för nybörjare, Stockholm: Björck & Börjesson, 1916. Dahlin, Per, “Astrologins historia”, Libra, 3 (1983). Drake, Frances, “Tänk om stjärnorna har rätt … ert dagliga horoskop av Frances Drake”, Aftonbladet, 27 January 1961. Ekström, Anders, “Astrologin i Sverige”, Libra, 1 (1983).

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——— . “Ledare”, Libra, 2 (1984). Ekström, Outi, “Redaktören har ordet”, Astrologi-Journalen, 75 (2007). Gerich, Paul von, Astrologi: Levnadstolkning, Stockholm: Björck & Börjesson, 1925. Goodman, Linda, Soltecken, Stockholm: Bernces/Wahlström & Widstrand, 1981. ——— . Linda Goodmans livsguide, Stockholm: Wahlström & Widstrand, 1993. ——— . Relationstecken, Stockholm: Wahlström & Widstrand, 2000. Granberg, Anna, Astrologi – en väg till inre harmoni, Stockholm: Bonnier, 1998. Jonson, Bert Yoga, Astrologi – så gör du ditt och andras horoskop, Göteborg: Zindermans, 1982. Kardos, Ursula, “Ert horoskop för hela 1967”, Expressen, 8 January 1967, 22–23. Kirk, Eleanor, Planeternas inflytande på människans liv: med karaktärstolkning av personer, födda under tecken, Stockholm: Wahledow, 1926. Lilje, C.A., Tabeller öfver de astrologiska husen för Stockholm, Göteborg, Helsingborg, Stockholm: Astrologiska förbundet, 1912. Meijer, Bernhard et al. (eds.), Nordisk Familjebok – konversationslexikon och realen­ cyklopedi, Stockholm: Nordisk familjeboks förlag, 1904–1926. Nessling, Bo, “Ledare”, Astrologen, 7 (1986). Sallert, Ulla, Astrologi – ett sätt att leva, Solna/Täby: Larsson/Seelig, 1974. Stenudd, Stefan, Ställ ditt horoskop, Stockholm: AWE/Geber, 1979. ——— . Ställ och tolka ditt horoskop, Stockholm: Nordstedt, 1991. Sundbro, Karin, “Sedan sist”, Vintergatan, 1 (1998).

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Chapter 15 Christian Theosophy in Denmark

Christian Theosophy and the Influence of Böhme in Denmark Søren Feldtfos Thomsen Little research has been done on the presence of the Christian theosophical tradition in Denmark. This chapter should not be taken as an exhaustive survey of the subject, but rather as an attempt to tread the first few steps into relatively uncharted territory, while suggesting areas for further study.

Heterodox Lutheranism and Radical Pietism in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries

The first Dane who can be described as a follower of Jacob Böhme was Niels Svendsen Chronich (ca. 1608–1662), a professor of theology at the gymnasium in Oslo (then Christiania). During his studies and travels in Germany as a young man, Chronich came into contact with the works of Böhme and German mystical-spiritualist Christian Hoburg (1607–1675), both of whom decisively influenced Chronich’s anti-clerical fervor and his critical stance toward confessional Lutheranism. Because of his unrelenting criticism of the confessional church and its clergy as well as his claim to prophetic authority, Chronich found himself continually embroiled in conflict with the local clergy in Oslo. In 1651 Chronich anonymously published his major work Troens Erindring og Prøvelse, a spiritualist criticism of the “false”, “historical” faith of the established churches informed by Böhmean anticlericalism. The following year Chronich was forced to abandon his position in Oslo and settled in Copenhagen where he worked for some time as a private tutor, gathering a small group of adherents. Soon Chronich was once again at the centre of controversy: following a formal investigation by the Lutheran consistory in Copenhagen, which ruled that Chronich’s teachings deviated on central points from the Confessio Augustana, Chronich was officially banished from Denmark and imprisoned. Released in 1658, Chronich travelled to the Netherlands where he seems to have settled in Amsterdam. His later whereabouts are difficult to trace, but he stayed at least for some time at the home of Johann Amos Comenius (1592– 1670). In 1659 the Copenhagen consistory issued a formal warning against

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Chronich and his teachings to students travelling to the Netherlands. An indepth study of Chronich’s writings has yet to be written. In the duchies of Schleswig and Holstein, where cultural impulses from Germany naturally made their way, the writings of Johann Arndt (1555–1621) and Valentin Weigel (1533–1588) were particularly influential, and it seems clear that the dissemination of what may be termed “proto-pietist” and mystical-spiritualist literature in the period is an important area for further research into the reception and adaptation of Christian theosophical thought. One of the most interesting figures in this regard is the controversial Lutheran pastor Friedrich Breckling (1629–1711), whose literary output, vast correspondence and personal ties with such influential theosophers as Johann Georg Gichtel (1638–1710) and Gottfried Arnold (1666–1714), made him an important figure in the history of heterodox Lutheranism in Germany and the south of Denmark. Though Breckling was not strictly speaking a follower of Böhme, he was no doubt influenced by the Christian theosophical tradition and drew on the writings of Arndt and Weigel in addition to being well versed in paracelsianism and medieval German mysticism. Critical of the confessional church and of Lutheran orthodox theology, Breckling published a number of anti-clerical writings which brought him into conflict with the ecclesiastical authorities. In 1660 he fled from his hometown of Flensburg after having been removed from his office. Settling in Amsterdam, he continued to publish his writings, eventually accepting the position of minister in the Dutch city of Zwolle, where his home became a refuge for like-minded religious and political dissidents. Further study of Breckling’s literary output and intellectual network is an important part of establishing the early history of the spread of Christian theosophy in the south of Denmark in the latter half of the seventeenth century. The spread of radical Pietism in Denmark from the early eighteenth century onwards surely provided a venue for the dissemination of theosophical thought, though our knowledge of this aspect of Danish religious history is still limited. Böhme was a likely source of inspiration for the small separatist community established by Johan Peter Piper (b. 1698) in Frederiksberg in the mid-1730s; a reference to Böhme in a 1733 anti-pietist sermon by royal confessor Johann Frauen (1688–1736) suggests, at least, that the teachings of the “heretical shoemaker” were viewed by confessional Lutherans as a source of religious radicalism and separatism. Accordingly, one of the charges levelled against separatist Jens Christensen Broch (b. 1706) – whose refusal to attend church or baptise his child ultimately led authorities to banish him from Denmark in 1736 – was thus that his teachings were derived from those of Böhme and the Quakers, though such accusations arguably say more about the polemical vocabulary of ecclesiastical authorities than about Böhme’s actual influence on Broch.

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Gottfried Arnold in particular seems to have had an impact within Danish radical pietist circles. Along with those of Johann Konrad Dippel (1673–1734), Arnold’s writings were circulated in Copenhagen around the turn of the century, particularly in the circle surrounding the separatist preacher Otto Lorentzen Strandiger (d. 1724). Strandiger came under investigation by the theological faculty in Flensburg due to his anti-clerical writings, and in 1704 he travelled to the capital to defend himself against the charges brought against him. Though initially met with good will by King Frederick IV, who was a staunch patron of Halle Pietism, 1716 saw Strandiger denounced as a heretic and expelled from the Danish kingdom, while a ban was put on his writings. During his stay in Copenhagen, the notorious Strandiger led weekly Sunday gatherings, which included the German students J.O. Glüsling and Christoffer Eberhard, both of whom drew on and circulated Arnold’s writings. In 1706 Strandiger’s conventicles were banned and Eberhard was expelled from Denmark in an attempt by the authorities to contain the growing anti-clerical sentiment in the country. Further research into Strandiger and other separatists is much needed for a clearer picture of the influence of Christian theosophy in the period to come. With regard to the impact of Gottfried Arnold, another interesting figure is the pietist theologian and hymnist Hans Adolph Brorson (1694–1764), who was bishop of Ribe from 1741 to 1764. A central figure in the reception of German pietist poetry in Denmark, Brorson wrote hundreds of hymns while translating the work of, amongst others, Paul Gerhardt (1607–1676), C.F. Richter (1676– 1711), and Angelus Silesius (Johann Scheffler) (1624–1677) into Danish. Through his encounter with these writers he was exposed to the influence of German mystical theology and Christian theosophy, especially through Silesius, who was an important figure in the circle surrounding Abraham von Franckenberg (1593–1652) and whose writings were heavily influenced by Böhme and his followers. The single hymn by Gottfried Arnold translated into Danish by Brorson (“Verliebtes Lust-Spiel reiner Seelen”), is hardly indicative of a pervasive influence on Brorson’s thought, but it is undoubtedly the case that Arnold’s sophia­nic mysticism was a factor in Brorson’s own views on piety and the relationship between Man and Christ. In particular, Bernardian eroticism and bridal mysticism, in which the relationship between the individual soul and Christ is likened to the relationship between bride and bridegroom, played a part in Brorson’s thinking, and though Brorson does not share Arnold’s sophianic mysticism explicitly, it has been argued (Arndal 1989: 222) that a common denominator exists between Brorson and Arnold when it comes to their fundamental psychology of awakening and piety, and their views on human desire and sexuality. A further study of these aspects of Brorson’s writings might give

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us a better understanding of his appropriation of Christian theosophical thought.

The Romantic Period

The nineteenth century had seen the esoterically tinged current of Romantic and idealist Naturphilosophie from Germany spread to intellectual circles in Denmark, and the intellectual and spiritual legacy of Christian theosophy made its mark on Danish philosophers and theologians of the period, particularly through the influence of Franz von Baader (1765–1841). Christian theosophical thought found an eloquent and profound, though not altogether uncritical, exponent in theologian and philosopher Hans Lassen Martensen (1808–1884). Born and raised in Flensburg and educated in Copenhagen, Martensen was the leading Danish systematic theologian of the nineteenth century and bishop of the diocese of Zealand from 1854 until his death. During his travels throughout Europe as a student, he encountered many leading intellectuals of his time, including Baader, whom he met in Münich in 1835. Baader made an indelible mark on Martensen, and his influence can be detected throughout most of Martensen’s later writings. In particular, Martensen sympathised with Baader’s criticism of the epistemological tradition from René Descartes (1596–1650) onwards, espousing an explicitly religious philosophy of consciousness in opposition to G.W.F. Hegel (1770–1831), who he believed had neglected the fundamental role of the personal God in human consciousness and cognition. Like Baader, Martensen found inspiration for this philosophy in the writings of the Christian mystics and theosophers, especially Meister Eckhart (ca. 1260–1328) and Böhme, both of whom he studied extensively, and on whom he wrote insightful and influential monographs (his book on Böhme was published in an English translation in 1885). Judging from these works, Martensen was intimately acquainted with currents of Western esotericism in European history, attempting to reconcile Hegelianism with medieval German mysticism, which he – echoing Hegel and Baader – saw as a precursor of modern speculative philosophy (cf. Stewart 2007: 417ff.). To Martensen, Böhme thus represented a thinker of immense importance in Christian thought, a writer who was still very much relevant in Protestant theology because of his earnest search for spiritual truth and his grappling with Christian dogma. Though Martensen was not unfamiliar with or uncritical of the controversial aspects of Böhme’s speculative thought as seen from an orthodox Lutheran perspective, he argued for the continued relevance of mysticism and theosophy in theology and philosophy. As such, Martensen can be said to be the primary exponent of

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Christian theosophy and mystical theology in Denmark during the nineteenth century. Martensen’s famous student, philosopher and theologian Søren Kierkegaard (1813–1855), followed his teacher in regarding Böhme as a forerunner of speculative philosophy, though to Kierkegaard – a fervent critic of Martensen’s attempt to synthesise philosophy and Christianity – this was a cause for criticism rather than admiration: along with Hegel and F.W.J. Schelling (1775–1854), Böhme fell within the purview of Kierkegaard’s general criticism of speculative philosophy as incompatible with the realisation of a simple, Christian faith. Whether Böhme, despite this, exerted a more profound influence on Kierke­ gaard through his concept of the “Ungrund”, which may have informed Kierkegaard’s understanding of the indeterminacy of freedom and anxiety as suggested by David Kangas (2007) and others, is open to discussion. Future research into the role of Western esotericism in Danish Romanticism and idealist philosophy in general may reveal new aspects of the impact made by Böhme and Christian theosophy in the period and beyond.

References

Arndal, Steffen, Den store Hvide Flok vi see: H.A. Brorson og tysk pietistisk vækkelsessang, Odense: Odense Universitetsforlag, 1989. Barrett, Lee C., “Jacob Böhme: The Ambiguous Legacy of Speculative Passion”, in: Jon Stewart (ed.), Kierkegaard and the Renaissance and Modern Traditions, Tome II: Theology, Farnham, Surrey: Ashgate, 2009. Jabukowski-Tiessen, Manfred, “Der Pietismus in Dänemark und Schleswig-Holstein”, in: Martin Brecht, et.al. (eds.), Geschichte des Pietismus, Band 2: Der Pietismus im achtzehn­ten Jahrhundert, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1995. Kangas, David J., Kierkegaard’s Instant: On Beginnings, Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2007. Klosterberg, Brigitte and Guido Naschert (eds.), Friedrich Breckling (1629–1711): Prediger, ‘Wahrheitszeuge’ und Vermittler des Pietismus im niederländischen Exil, Halle: Verlag der Franckeschen Stiftungen zu Halle, 2011. Koch, Carl Henrik, Den Danske Filosofis Historie (5 vols.): Den Danske Idealisme, Køben­ havn: Gyldendal, 2004. Lausten, Martin Schwarz, Danmarks kirkehistorie, København: Gyldendal, 1987. Martensen, Hans Lassen, Mester Eckhart: Et Bidrag til at oplyse Middelalderens Mystik, København: Reitzel, 1840. ——— . Jacob Bøhme: Theosophiske Studier, København: Gyldendalske Boghandels Forlag, 1881.

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Pedersen, Johannes, Fra brydningen mellem ortodoksi og pietisme (2 vols.), København: G.E.C. Gads Forlag, 1945–1948. Pedersen, Jørgen, “Et møde med perspektiver eller perspektiver i et møde: Martensen hos Baader i München 1835” in: Leif Grane et.al. (eds.), Kirkehistoriske Samlinger 1976, København: Akademisk Forlag, 1976. ——— . “Traditionsarv og hovedanliggende i romantikken: Med særligt henblik på to mindre skrifter af Franz von Baader og dennes indflydelse i Danmark” in: Jørgen Pedersen, Fra Augustin til Johs. V. Jensen: Essays og afhandlinger, København: Museum Tusculanums Forlag, 1991. Rørdam, H.F., “Separatisten M. Niels Svendsen Chronich og hans Tilhængere”, in: idem. (ed.), Kirkehistoriske Samlinger, 3: III, København: G.E.C Gad, 1881–82. ———. “Fra den pietistiske Tid”, in: idem. (ed.), Kirkehistoriske Samlinger, 3: IV, Køben­ havn: G.E.C Gad, 1882–84. ——— . “Bidrag til Separatismens Historie i Christian VI’s Tid”, in: idem. (ed.) Kirke­ historiske Samlinger, 5: III, København G.E.C. Gad, 1905–1907. Stewart, John, A History of Hegelianism in Golden Age Denmark, Tome II: The Martensen Period: 1837–1842, Copenhagen: C.A. Reitzel, 2007. Svendsen, Niels Chronich, Troens Erindring oc Prøfuelse, Christiania 1651.

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Chapter 16 Christian Theosophy in Finland

Christian Theosophy and the Influence of Böhme in Finland Tomas Mansikka

Radical Pietism

The influence of the thoughts and religious philosophy of Jakob Böhme on Finnish ground can be determined from the late seventeenth century onward, from which time Boehmenism came to play a significant role within the Pietistic milieu in the country. In the early eighteenth century its anchorage was mainly among returned Carolingian militaries and middle-class citizens in the city of Turku (Sw. Åbo). Later on, Boehmenist influences can be detected predominantly in the area of Ostrobothnia in the central parts of Finland among peasants and artisans. In the standard (mid-nineteenth century) collection of sources on early religious movements in Finland, the publisher Matthias Akiander dedicates no less than two-thirds of his Preface to presenting the tenets of Jakob Böhme. This is, according to Akiander, for the reason that ‘the school of Böhme with its corollaries deserves special attention in our country, because its doctrines first gained ground here, has been preserved for the longest time and of all the sects has most infiltrated the religious ideas of other doctrinal parties’. (Akiander 1857, I: vi). A widespread reading and influence of Böhme can be documented also elsewhere. According to Emanuel Linderholm (Linderholm 1911: 38ff), Boehme­ nist theosophy was, in at least some regions, actually to pose a real threat to orthodox Lutheranism at the end of the seventeenth century. At this time, Boehmenist thinking was disseminated through the works of Fr. Breckling and J.G. Gichtel and the latter’s editing of the writings of Böhme in 1682. From 1690 onward, the importance of Boehmenism on the contemporary religious landscape reached new heights due to the works of the English Behmenists John Pordage, Thomas Bromley, and Jane Leade. These influences can from an early stage onwards also be recognised in Finland. The earliest documented interest in Boehmenist literature was among the first radical Pietists, Lars (Laurentius) Ulstadius (d. 1732) and Peter Schäfer (1663–1729). Although they were not Boehmenists in the strict sense of the

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_018

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word, they stand out, however, as forerunners of the particular milieu that later was to promote a spread of Boehmenism. In a new edition of J.N. Edenius’ church history Epitome Historiae ecclesiasticae novi Testamenti (1708), the bishop in Turku Johan Gezelius jr. (1647–1718) appended an account of radical Pietism in terms of two distinct movements, one that used Schwenkfeldian, Weigelian, and Labadistic doctrines, the other consisting of the followers of Böhme. Both Ulstadius and Schäfer belonged mainly to this first category and Gezelius probably, in updating the work with the new heresies, had these two individuals in mind. With Ulstadius we witness one of the earliest appearances of radical Pietism within Lutheranism. After reading Schwenckfeld and Weigel among others, he had resigned from his duty as a minister in his hometown Oulu (Sw. Uleåborg) and travelled to Turku in 1683, where he caused a great stir by interrupting a sermon in the Turku Cathedral 1688; an incident for which he was sentenced to death in 1692, though the sentence was overturned into life imprisonment. Due to the efforts by the church authorities to put an end to the spread of dissenting ideas, Schäfer, as well, was soon afterwards forced under heavy pressure to recant his conviction. With the passing of time, however, the harsh treatment by the orthodox clergy had the effect of raising Ulstadius and Schäfer to the status of martyrs for later generations of dissenters. Judging his situation in Finland to be impossible, Schäfer left the country and spent more than ten years of restless living abroad. During his peregrinations he met Philipp Jakob Spener, the father of Pietism, in Berlin and worked as a teacher at August Hermann Francke’s parish in Halle. From Halle he moved on to Quedlinburg in 1699 to visit Gottfried Arnold. Arnold was at the time deeply immersed in studying Böhme and particularly his doctrine of the Heavenly Sophia, which resulted in the publication of his work Geheimnis der göttlichen Sophia the following year. More importantly, Schäfer told Arnold of the persecution that he and Ulstadius had suffered in Finland, which prompted Arnold to include a description of these events in his Unparteyische Ketzer- und Kirchenhistorien published in 1699– 1700. In Holland, Schäfer established contacts with mystics and theosophists such as Gichtel, who mentions him in his Theosophia practica (1732). Schäfer’s stay in Holland and notably his acquaintance with Quakers encouraged him to travel to Pennsylvania, where he met William Penn, with whom he continued to correspond after his return to Finland. Returning to Finland in 1701, and deeply regretting his former repeal of conviction, he subsequently stepped forward as an apocalyptic preacher from the year 1707 onward, recapitulating the criticism Ulstadius had directed at the clergy twenty years earlier. Schäfer similarly received a death sentence, which was altered to life imprisonment in 1709. He was locked up in Turku Castle, from where he was transferred to the Castle of Gävle in 1714.

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In his captivity Schäfer studied, among other works, Böhme’s De tribus prin­ cipiis, a book that, as can be seen from Schäfer’s diaries, was particularly dear to him. Among people who supported him from abroad one can also mention Arnold’s pupil Johann Konrad Dippel, who in 1712 via their mutual friend Johan Andersson Dorsche voiced concerns about Schäfer’s welfare and collected a sum of money to be sent to him. Like Dippel, Johann Maximilian Daut, and other radical Pietists, Schäfer interpreted the flight of King Charles XII to the Ottoman Empire as an eschatological sign. The king was the Lion of the North, or Der Löwe aus der Mitternacht, that was to appear before the end of time. From the late 1730s a Boehmenist movement in a stricter sense of the word began to emerge around the brothers Jakob (1689–1737) and Erik Eriksson (1695–1761). Residents of a quite different part of Finland, Kälviä (sw. Kelviå) in Central Ostrobothnia, and with seemingly no direct ties connecting them to the events in Turku, they nonetheless came to see themselves as spiritual heirs to Ulstadius and Schäfer. Their religious and philosophical orientation was profoundly marked by the work of Jakob Böhme, whose writings they may first have come across during their services in the Carolingian army. With the Eriksson movement, a parallel to the Philadelphian society can be seen emerging on Finnish ground. More militant, however, and possibly due to outward pressures, the Finnish group developed into a highly exclusive and uncompromising group of dissenters, displaying intolerance towards the clergy as well as towards other religious approaches. In their view, any attempts to compromise with orthodox Lutheran views were detestable. Alongside the works of Böhme they accepted only a few other writings, such as Thomas Bromley’s Way to the Sabbath of Rest, Pordage’s Göttliche und Wahre Metaphysica, and some works by Gottfried Arnold. The theosophy of the Eriksson brothers stressed the voluntarism and Sophiology of Böhme, but did not share the visionary and apo­calyp­tic mode of contemporary radical Pietism. Hence, while they held in high esteem the Philadelphians Pordage and Bromley, the writings of Jane Leade were only to be read with great caution. The presence and influence of the Eriksson brothers was deemed so dangerous by the authorities that they and their followers were expelled from the country in 1734, and thus became the first dissidents to be forced into exile on religious grounds. The support and sympathies that they enjoyed among the learned classes is attested, for instance, by the Finnish senator Esbjörn Reuterholm, who in a report delivered to the palace of the nobility voiced that the opinions the Eriksson brothers had been forced to divulge, probably were shared by a great many among the nobility. Together with a group consisting of eighty-five followers, the brothers began their exodus via Stockholm and

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Copenhagen to Holland and Germany, where they impatiently moved from one place to another, tormented by both external and internal conflicts. From the viewpoint of church orthodoxy they were indeed dangerous, as their presence usually promoted an immediate radicalisation among societies of moderate Pietists. Returning in 1745 to Sweden, the group had been reduced to twenty-one in number, with Erik as the sole leader after the older brother Jakob had died in 1737. They finally found a haven in Skevik in Sweden where the movement survived up to the middle of the nineteenth century when the last follower passed away (See the chapter on Christian Theosophy and the Influence of Böhme in Sweden).

The Mystics of Ostrobothnia

The spread of Boehmenist ideas gave birth also to a loosely structured movement known as the “Mystics of Ostrobothnia”. The movement undoubtedly had its prelude in the earlier events mentioned above, although it was quite different both in nature and religious outlook from the preceding ones. Their leader Anders Collin (1754–1830) was a renowned librarian and Boehmenist in Stockholm, who kept up a lively correspondence with his followers overseas in Ostrobothnia. What is remarkable about this movement is the number of Finnish translations of works by Böhme that they produced. Whereas the Eriksson brothers did not translate any writings by the Silurian shoemaker, except for a short handwritten collection of utterances (En kort Samling af Jacob Böhmes skriffteligen författade Uthlåtelser), the “mystics” produced a number of books, chapters, and shorter works in the form of handwritten manuscripts, which circulated among the followers. In addition to works by Böhme, they also produced translations of other works, even non-religious writings, such as books on history and geography. Although the Mystics of Ostrobothnia read widely in the works of Böhme, they had, as can be seen from the translations, quite a different approach to the theosophical corpus than was the case with the Eriksson brothers. They did not translate Aurora and other more obscure works, but focused exclusively on writings on Christian life and piety, such as De regeneratione, Von vier Complexionen, Psychologia vera, and Der weg zu Christo. The Boehmenist literature seems for them, therefore, to have served first and foremost as devotional literature. In contrast to the Eriksson’s movement, Collin was cautious also to remind his followers not to leave the Lutheran church. This made the movement more difficult to detect and suppress, and its influence, accordingly, can be traced well into the mid-nineteenth century.

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Due to the increased availability of Böhme’s writings, yet another movement emerged before the end of the century. In Lapua (Sw. Lappo) in southern Ostrobothnia, a Finnish translation of Böhme’s Psychologia vera had come into the hands of Jakob Wallenberg (1756–1798), a glass manufacturer who had fallen into misfortune when planning to establish a glass factory. In the year 1798 he became the charismatic leader and prophet of a group in the neighbouring district of Kauhava, a group that from an early point caught the attention of outsiders due to its unusual activities. Wallenberg, who evidently held a strong appeal for women, came to initiate a series of rituals which apparently also included some sexual ingredients. More than Boehmenist teachings properly speaking, joint rites in the form of “jumping” and “trampling” seem to have been important for the group. By jumping, one trampled on the snake’s head, an action that was meant to transport the adherents into a state of bliss. Another ingredient that caught attention was the abundant consumption of alcohol and tobacco, which were believed to keep the devil away. During the meetings all sexual restrictions were abandoned in favour of heavenly marriages, which were to be carried out in their carnal sense. The atmosphere of sexual relief and freedom that Wallenberg fostered not surprisingly held a particular appeal for the youth. Although only a few of the members were granted insight into the inner secrets of his teaching, the number of followers grew to roughly one hundred people. Wallenberg’s reading of Böhme appears to have been sensitive albeit onesided and idiosyncratic. Stressing the “inner light” and freedom of the spirit, as well as man’s relationship with Sophia as the mirror and bride of God, Wallenberg’s theosophy was also strongly eschatological and centred on his prophetic role, which ultimately caught the attention of the clergy and led to his downfall. Abandoning both communion and service, he claimed that Luther had falsified the teachings of the apostles. Furthermore, God had become disappointed with Jesus and overturned his mandate and had replaced him with Wallenberg, whose mission was nothing less than to redeem the whole of humanity. In his new position, Wallenberg was also capable of performing miracles, such as turning stones into gold. Wallenberg was subsequently arrested and like Schäfer and Ulstadius before him, given a death sentence, which was converted into imprisonment for life. Wallenberg died shortly after his arrest, but the movement persisted, and Psychologia vera continued to be read as the “Book of Böhme” (“Böhmin kirja”) or “Catechism of Wallenberg”. In the early nineteenth century, the group moved to the adjacent district of Kuortane and became known as the “Wasuits” after its new leader Isak Wasumäki (1783–1854). The movement was still in existence at the time of Akiander’s collecting of documentary sources in 1860. He noted that of the

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inhabitants of Kuortane at the time, approximately one quarter of the elderly population was connected to the movement. After Wasumäki’s death and under the leadership of Enoch Hynnilä, some decline in proselytising new followers was reported. Nevertheless, in the early twentieth century a priest, Kustaa Hallio, reported that Boehmenist literature continued to be read in a number of districts in Ostrobothnia (Hallio 1901: 350). The spread of Boehmenist theosophy in the area of Ostrobothnia in Finland had its repercussions in upper and middle class culture as well. A representative example is Christian Henrik Snellman (1777–1855), father of the Finnish national philosopher Johan Vilhelm Snellman, who developed an intricate spiritual philosophy on the basis of the teachings of Emanuel Swedenborg and also, to some degree, on the views of Böhme. After the death of his first wife, the mother of Johan Vilhelm, he married Catharina Sofia Ahla (1798–1879), who was heir of the mystical tradition from Wallenberg and the Wasuits and a devout follower of Böhme. Christian Henrik had a deep respect for Catharina’s religious and philosophical views, and wrote to his son that she is ‘the greatest philosopher who gets everything for free through faith; [i.e.] everything that so-called science with its logical metaphysical reasoning produces [and] that Schelling, indeed, has tried to attain’. Due to Böhme’s influence on the Romantic movement and on Schelling in particular, the followers of Böhme could indeed see an affinity between their views and the new Zeitgeist. A renewed esteem towards the doctrines of Böhme to some degree also emerged via Franz von Baader, whose direct influence, however, seems to have been restricted mainly to the theology of A.F. Granfelt (1815–1892) (Luukkanen 1993). The followers of Böhme in Finland were a vast and heterogeneous assembly. There was a widespread reception of his ideas within the peasant culture of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, notably in the area of Ostrobothnia in central Finland, a reception that formed part of a broader cultural change that was taking place in connection with the emergence of a more widespread literacy. An instructive example is the case of Samuel Rinta-Nikkola (1763–1818), a tailor and autodidact who both translated and repro­duced earlier manuscripts, a total of over thirty books, between 1794 and 1809, including Pordage’s Sophia, two collections of letters by Gichtel and Johann Wilhelm Überfeld and several works by Böhme. Rinta-Nikkola also collected and transcribed folk songs and translated Daniel Djurberg’s Geografi för begynnare (Geography for Beginners), the first book on geography to appear in Finnish. Other prolific translators and reproducers that could be mentioned were Jakob Norrgård and Michel (Mikko) Sauso. It is also notable that different translations of Boehmenist literature were in circulation; Böhme’s Psychologia

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vera, for instance, which was twice translated by Rinta-Nikkola, had been preceded by at least one translation by Jakob Kärmäki (1699–1789), a copy of which reached Wallenberg. Commenting on the cultural efforts of Rinta-Nikkola and others, J.V. Snellman in 1855 remarked that it was truly astonishing to behold that these Finnish peasants and artisans not only read and translated works by theosophers and mystics, but engaged in a lively correspondence regarding their ideas (Snellman 1932: 210).

References

Akiander, Matthias, Historiska Upplysningar om Religiösa rörelserna i Finland i äldre och senare tider I–VII, Helsingfors, 1857–1863. Djurberg, Daniel, Geografia alkaville Samuel Rinta-Nikkolalta, E.M. Laine (ed.), Helsinki: SKS, 1999. Hallio, Kustaa, “Suomen mystikoista”, Teologisk Tidskrift – Teologinen aikakausikirja, (1901), 345–356, 401–409. Kvist, H.-O., “Der Einfluss Jakob Böhmes in Finnland”, in: Klaus Fitschen & Reinhart Staats (eds.), Grundbegriffe christlicher Ästhetik, Beiträge des V. Makarios-Symposiums Preetz 1995, Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 1997. Laine, Esko M., “Taivaallinen Sofia ja lihallinen Eeva. Seksuaalisuus suomalaisessa ­radikaalipietismissä ennen isoavihaa”, in: Minna Ahola, Marjo-Riitta Antikainen & Päivi Salmesvuori (eds.), Taivaallista seksiä. Kristinusko ja seksuaalisuus, Helsinki: Tammi, 2006. Laine, Tuija, Englantilaisperäinen hartauskirjallisuus Suomessa Ruotsin vallan aikana. Bibliografia (English Devotional Literature in Finland during the Swedish Era. Bibliography), SKST 778, Helsinki: SKS, 2000. ——— . Ylösherätys suruttomille: Englantilaisperäinen hartauskirjallisuus Suomessa Ruotsin vallan aikana (English Devotional Literature in Finland during the Swedish Era), SKST 775, Helsinki: SKS, 2002. Linderholm, Emanuel, Sven Rosén och hans insats i frihetstidens radikala pietism, Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1911. Loimaranta, Sakari, Erikssonien mystillis-separatistinen liike vuoteen 1745, Lahti: Kirjapaino- ja Sanomalehti oy, 1940. Luukkanen, Tarja-Liisa, In Quest of Certainty. Axel Fredrik Granfelt’s Theological Epistemology, Schriften der Luther-Agricola-Gesellschaft 29, Helsinki: LutherAgricola-Gesellschaft, 1993. Manninen, Juha, “Härmä-katekesen. Christian Henrik Snellmans (1777–1855) swedenborgiansk-mystiska världsbild”, in: M. Lahtinen (ed.), Historiallinen Arkisto 105, Helsinki: Suomen historiallinen seura, 1995, 180–250.

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Pajula, J.S., “Jacob Böhmen vaikutuksesta Suomen n. k. Mystikoihin”, Teologisk Tidskrift – Teologinen aikakausikirja (1911), 1–12. Pohjolan-Pirhonen, Holger, “Näkökohtia ulstadiolaisesta liikkeestä”, Xenia Ruuthiana SKHS, 47 (1947). Råberg, Herman, Teologins historia vid Åbo universitet I, Skrifter utgivna av Svenska Litteratursällskapet i Finland 23, Helsingfors, 1893. Ruuth, Martti, “Kaksi Petter Schäferin päiväkirjaa osaksi lyhennettyinä sekä johdannolla, muistutuksilla ja nimiluetteloilla varustettuina”, in: Suomen kirkkohistoriallisen seuran toimituksia XII,1. Helsinki: Suomen Kirkkohistoriallinen Seura, 1915. Snellman, Johan Vilhelm, Kootut teokset, Part 8, Porvoo: WSOY, 1932. Wallmann, Johannes, Pentti Laasonen & Esko M. Laine (eds.), Der Pietismus in seiner europäischen und aussereuropäischen Ausstrahlung, Suomen kirkkohistoriallisen seuran toimituksia 157, Helsinki 1992.

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Chapter 17 Christian Theosophy in Norway

Christian Theosophy and the Influence of Böhme in Norway Jan-Erik Ebbestad Hansen Jacob Böhme (1575–1624) is probably the Christian mystic who has exercised the greatest influence. Even though his theosophy springs out of pre-modern thought that is radically different from the views of reality hegemonic to modernity, he has always had his supporters and admirers. These are, however, individuals and groups opposed both to orthodox theology and rationalism, naturalism and the secularisation processes of modernity. Böhme’s reception history is therefore first and foremost related to various countercultures. This pattern emerges from the beginning. Right after Böhme’s death in 1624, a Boehmenist congregation was established in Holland, which departed from the traditional church. And it is in Holland that Böhme’s writings and ideas were imparted. Boehmenist theosophy also made an early impact in England, first in the Philadelphian Society and later among philosophers, theologians, and writers in opposition to orthodox theology and rationalistic ways of thinking, of which probably the best known are William Blake and William Law. The most important influence is, however, on German Romanticism and parts of German Pietism. In Norway we find the same pattern, his influence may be traced early on in spiritually oriented groups and Radical Pietism, later on among spiritually oriented lay Christian writers and theologians (here called spiritualists, obviously with a different meaning intended than for the nineteenth century movements discussed elsewhere in this volume). The Danish theologian Niels Svendsøn Chronich (ca. 1608–1662), employed as master at the gymnasium in Kristiania in 1639, is the first person known to have spread Böhme’s writings and ideas in Norway. Having studied theology at the university in Groningen, Chronich came into contact with a separatist movement inspired by Valentin Weigel, while travelling in Germany. Through this movement he became acquainted with Böhme’s theosophy. In Norway Chronich began preaching a radical spiritualism: In opposition to the literal orthodoxy of the clergy, he maintained that true belief required an inner spiritual enlightenment. In this connection he propagandised for Böhme, and soon came in conflict with the authorities who accused him of holding illegal prayer

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meetings and spreading heretical literature. In his defence, Chronich insisted that his accusers had not understood the writings of the “Holy Jacob Böhme”. In 1648 he appeared before a clerical court and was later forced to leave Kristiania. During the second half of the seventeenth century, Bergen was the centre of a spiritually oriented Christianity, whose main proponent was Hans Olsen (1607–1684). After studies in Copenhagen, the Netherlands, and England, Olsen settled in Bergen where he became the town physician. A polymath in the spirit of his age, having studied languages and theology besides medicine, he was also well versed in alchemy, with which he experimented. While in Bergen, Olsen translated the writings of Catholic mystics as well as The Heavenly Academy written by the English Puritan Francis Rous (published in 1638, in Norwegian as Det Himmelske Academie). According to a memorial text written upon Olsen’s death, not a day went by in which he did not read the writings of Paracelsus and Böhme, and he supposedly compiled an anthology of Böhme’s writings, which unfortunately has not been preserved. Olsen represented a type of spiritualism in which a synthesis of medieval mysticism and natural philosophy in the tradition of Paracelsus was sought, and of which Jacob Böhme was the foremost representative. Another central figure in the spiritualistic milieus of seventeenth-century Bergen, was Edvard Edvardsen (1630–1695) who was a teacher and conrector at the Bergen Latin School. He had studied theology in Copenhagen and spent some time in the Netherlands where he probably came into contact with groups spreading the writings of spiritualists, i.e., anti-materialistic writers, and mystics. Edvardsen was a well-known astrologer, and in an unpublished manuscript, Sapientia coelestis, he developed an astrologically-grounded cosmology. The influence of mysticism on Edvardsen’s text is strong and in the introduction he explicitly refers to the writings of Jacob Böhme. According to Edvardsen, Böhme’s books teach us about the nature of God, and it can be shown that Edvardsen had copied large parts of Böhme’s most famous book, Aurora oder Morgenröthe im Aufgang. He was particularly influenced by Böhme’s view of nature, in which we find the teaching of the seven formative qualities in nature, the basic principles of sal, sulphur, and mercurius, as well as the dialectics of light vs. darkness and good vs. evil. Furthermore, Böhme’s idea of the Angst of nature was integrated by Edvardsen in his own text. However, Böhme’s Christology and theogonic speculations do not seem to have influenced Edvardsen. Peder Olufssøn Svegning (d. 1671) was another contemporary who probably read Böhme. He was a vicar on the island of Stord and wrote a great many hymns. In 1668 he published a collection of hymns entitled Aurora eller Ny

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Morgenrøden (Aurora or New Rose of Dawn), most likely a direct reference to Böhme’s well-known major work, Aurora oder Morgenröhte im Aufgang. Apart from the title, there is little to connect the hymns to Böhme except a vague tendency towards a Christocentric mysticism which appears in metaphors taken from nuptial mysticism. These may be interpreted as an influence from Böhme, but could equally be an influence from other sources. Böhme’s influence can also be traced to eighteenth-century Bergen. In 1771 Böhme’s treatise on true penitence was translated and published (as Om den sande Poenitensze). The famous lay preacher Hans Nielsen Hauge (1771–1824), as well, tells of meeting several individuals in Bergen and the surrounding areas who were greatly interested in Böhme. It is, however, not known whether there was any connection between this eighteenth-century interest in Böhme and the spiritualism, i.e., the anti-materialism, of the mid-seventeenth century. In Kristiania, too, there must at this time have been a certain interest in Böhme. At least, in 1771 a translation was printed of his tract on the suprasensual life, De vita mentali. Magnus Berg (1666–1739) is the first Norwegian who in his own writings propagated the theosophical teachings of Böhme as a whole. Not much is known of Berg, but he probably came from Romedal in the county of Hedmark in south-eastern Norway, and he apparently distinguished himself as a pictorial artist as he is known to have received a royal scholarship to study painting in Copenhagen, the capital of the then combined state of Denmark-Norway. It is not known when he left Norway, but it was certainly no later than 1690. After several years of studying abroad, he settled in Copenhagen and remained there until his death in 1739. Berg made a career as a sculptor in ivory and became famous throughout Europe. In addition to working as a painter and carver in ivory, he wrote religious texts in the esoteric and anti-materialistic tradition, three of which were published in German under the title Microscopium in 1735. The rest of his writings circulated in handwritten copies, mainly within the radical pietistic community in Copenhagen. Some of his writings were probably also circulated in Norway. The context for Berg’s ideas can be traced to the radical pietistic movement he came into contact with in Copenhagen at the beginning of the eighteenth century, a pietism highly critical of the church and where great emphasis was placed on personal conversion and visionary experience. Chiliastic and theosophical speculations as well as speculations in the philosophy of nature flourished. Here theosophy meant a religious form of knowledge emphasising a redeeming insight into the inner life of God and nature.

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The catalogue of books in his library includes works by German mystics such as Johannes Tauler, Johann Arndt, and Thomas à Kempis, as well as alchemical writings, the Corpus Hermeticum and books by Paracelsus, Valentin Weigel, Johannes Reuchlin, and Agrippa von Nettesheim, to mention only the best known, thus providing a good idea of his religious inclinations. In other words, Berg was interested in the Hermetic or mystical-theosophical tradition that was so influential in the history of ideas of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The most important source of inspiration for Magnus Berg was Böhme, the “theosophus and mysticus”. In Böhme he found a combination of mystical piety and speculations in the philosophy of nature which he would refer to and repeat in several of his most important writings, such as Denne siste verdens tids speil (The Mirror of This Last World) and Beskrivelse av det åndelige Babylon (Description of the Spiritual Babylon). In his biblical exegesis, he is especially concerned with Böhme’s understanding of creation as a fall going through several stages and of the parallel between Adam and Christ: The first stage was Lucifer’s revolt as a result of the realisation of will. This led to God creating man, i.e., Adam, as an androgynous being with a non-material body. The next stage appeared when Adam turned away from contemplating perfection and fell asleep. The third and last stage was realised when Eve tempted Adam, the point in history in which humans appeared as two separate genders with coarse material bodies. In another central motif, Christ is the new Adam who has come to restore the original spiritual unity that Adam had destroyed. In this perspective, Christ is identical to man reborn. The change occurred in man’s inner being, while the exterior remained in the state of imperfection. Böhme and Berg were here clearly opposed to the Lutheran orthodoxy of sola fide, and emphasised instead the importance of choice and rebirth. Both of these transformations could be described in alchemical terms, i.e., inner perfection being the Philosopher’s Stone – lapis philosophorum. As evidenced by his use of fire symbolism, Berg had adopted the main concepts of the Boehmenist theosophical system. This symbolism illustrated the main theme of Böhme’s theogony, namely the transformation of God’s self from chaos and destructivity into a harmonious unity. In this perspective, fire was both an image of a consuming, destructive force – the wrath of God – and of the life-giving light of love and harmony – the joyous kingdom of God. Both Böhme and Berg claimed that this process developed through seven stages, or “nature spirits”. Böhme used terms, concepts, and metaphors from the natural philosophy of Paracelsus and alchemy, for instance sal, sulphur, and mercurius, in his

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descriptions of the theogonic processes of God. He also wrote of “God’s Angst” when describing the transformation from a wrathful, destructive, and jealous God into a harmonious and loving God. Böhme maintained that in the state of divine perfection the consuming fire would eternally be transformed into light and warmth. In the state of creation, however, these forces fell apart and were separated as spirit and matter, chaos and harmony, good and evil. Thus, in a certain sense, evil originated in God himself, in God’s nature. This highly original doctrine, with its provoking implications, attracted a lot of attention, and fascinated Berg. In the created world of matter, everything was constituted by good or evil, and evil could thus be understood as a precondition of good. But in perfection, in God, evil would always be transformed into good. Magnus Berg also makes use of the occult-astrological cosmology found in Boehmenism and Paracelsianism, in which qualities embodied in nature correspond to celestial bodies. By possessing knowledge of these correspondences, one could influence the processes of nature by way of magic. Though the astrological-magical system is not described in detail in Berg’s oeuvre, it provides the worldview in which his thought should be placed. The same is true of the theory of signatures, which Böhme probably acquired from Paracelsus and the professor of medicine and alchemy at the University of Marburg, Oswald Croll, and included in his own philosophy of nature. Knowledge of the secrets of nature enabled one to deduce the inner qualities of things based on their exterior qualities, such as form, colour, and smell. This understanding was important in medicine, but was also given wider epistemological implications.

The Nineteenth Century

In the nineteenth century, theologians and philosophers became interested in Böhme, most likely because of the importance attributed to him in German Idealism and Romanticism. In Denmark, it was primarily theologians who took an interest, as for instance C. Henrik Scharling, professor of theology, who wrote Jakob Bøhmes Theosophi: En religionsfilosofisk og dogmatisk undersøgelse (The Theosophy of Jacob Böhme: A Religio-Philosophical and Dogmatic Inquiry). It was published 1879 as a Festschrift commemorating the 400-year anniversary of the founding of the university of Copenhagen. Some years later, in 1881, Bishop Hans Lassen Martensen published Jacob Bøhme: Theosophiske studier (Jacob Böhme: Theosophical Studies). Both books were thorough and insightful inquiries into Boehmenist theosophy. In Norway an interest in Böhme is found among professional philosophers strongly influenced by Hegelianism, due to Hegel’s positive references to

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Böhme in his lectures on the history of philosophy. In his most important work Grundtankernes system (Basic System of Thought) Georg Vilhelm Lyng (1827– 1884), professor of philosophy at the University of Kristiania, in continuation of Hegelian logics inquired into the concepts of “inner” and “outer” using the Boehmenist theory of signatures as an example of personification of inanimate nature. Böhme’s significance was due to his being the main representative of this type of thinking as well as being the founder of a German national philosophy. But in Lyng’s historicising and evolutionary perspective, the theory of signatures exemplified a naïve and early view. Only divine revelation enabled one to draw conclusions regarding the hidden inner qualities of nature on the basis of exterior signs and symbols, as Böhme did. The same applied to astrology and numerology. Such deductions indicated a lack of understanding of the unity of things, in Lyng’s view. The inner had to reveal itself in the outer, and in accordance with Hegelian logic, the boundary between inner and outer was thereby dissolved. Norway’s most important nineteenth-century philosopher was the Hegelian Marcus Jacob Monrad (1816–1897). He discussed Böhme’s theosophy, although not based on any profound insight into his writings, nonetheless in a qualified and informative manner. Monrad did not place Böhme in the tradition of Catholic mysticism or natural philosophers. In opposition to both mystics and philosophers, Böhme understood the “Absolute” as unfolding itself in his inner self as well as unfolding itself in the real world. Such a synthesis of introvert mysticism and nature mysticism was in Monrad’s view ‘a Protestant form of mysticism’, and it was here that Böhme’s epochal originality could be found.

The Twentieth Century

In the twentieth century Böhme provided poetic inspiration to a variety of writers. The author Gabriel Scott (1878–1958) was decisively influenced by New Romanticism and Symbolism, currents which appeared in the 1890s as a reaction against naturalism and realism in literature. This was a literature of metaphysical longings, concerned with the mysterious, with occult phenomena, alchemy, and spiritualism, looking for unconscious forces in the soul and finding connections between the soul and the divine. Two writers from this period were particularly inspirational to Scott, namely Thomas Krag (1868– 1913) and Sigbjørn Obstfelder (1866–1900). In Krag’s Mester Magius (Master Magius) published in 1909 we find elements of nature mysticism and a fascination with the mysteries of the soul; and in Obstfelder’s De Røde dråper (The Red Drops, 1897) the conceptual world of alchemy was an important source of

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inspiration. At the turn of the century this openness towards mysticism and esoteric forms of thought became part of a substantial critique of nineteenthcentury positivism, naturalism, and rationalism and the faith in progress. In Scott’s novels, nature is a spiritual wholeness, an organism infused with divine forces, providing his protagonists with ecstatic experiences of nature. Scott read and was inspired by Spinoza’s pantheism, but he was also well acquainted with Böhme and made several explicit references to him. In Våren (Spring), the first volume of the trilogy En drøm om en drøm (A Dream of a Dream, 1940–1947), the shepherd boy Marius is described as a child of nature with an immediate, intuitive access to her inner workings. Scott explicitly drew on the popular conception of Böhme as an unsophisticated cobbler, a natural genius who was given ecstatic, visionary access to the inner workings of nature through divine illumination. Marius is only a mystic in a small way, in a manner of speaking a very small-scale Böhme. Several of Scott’s stories of nature bear a strong resemblance to Böhme’s descriptions of an inspired nature. If one’s inner eye were open one would see behind the shell of appearances and gaze upon the real essence of things, which was spirit, often described as light or fire. In Helgenen (The Saint, 1936) Scott is concerned with the conditions under which human beings could gain immediate insight into the divine nature; the autodidact Daniel explained that man by himself would not be found worthy of such revelations, rather it was God who descended into the person and revealed the mysteries. The reference here is to Böhme’s Aurora, in a passage which tells how he acquired insight into the hidden life of nature. In Høsten (Autumn), volume 3 of the trilogy, Scott was concerned with the origin of evil and had his protagonist refer to Böhme’s teachings on evil as a condition for experiencing good, when claiming that the church should abandon its dogmatism and develop its teachings in this direction instead. In the twentieth century, one major conduit of Böhme’s thought has been via Anthroposophy. Rudolf Steiner, founder of the anthroposophical movement, regarded Böhme as a major representative of a Western, spiritual current. The writer and culture critic Aasmund Brynildsen (1917–1974) was one of the most important writers in spreading Christian spiritualism to the Norwegian public. He did not himself adhere to Anthroposophy, but was nevertheless decisively influenced by it. He did not write anything specifically on Böhme, but referred to him in several places. One of Norway’s most important poets, Stein Mehren (b. 1935) shows strong affinities with Böhme. He has written philosophical essays, plays, and novels. In Mehren’s poetic universe the world, man, and poetry are seen through the perspective of a logos philosophy which has been a constitutive element in

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much of Christian mysticism. This tradition originated in the pre-Christian Greek philosophy of Heraclitus and the Stoics, but has first and foremost been ascribed to the Gospel of John and the Gospel’s teaching on logos as the meaningful, creative word. By way of the Gospel of John, this teaching became an integral part of the Christian mysticism and cosmology of Origen, Eckhart, Cusanus, Weigel, and Böhme. It is in this connection possible to show a significant affinity between the conceptual worlds of Mehren and Böhme, in addition to explicit references. The central topic of Mehren’s poetry is the fact that man gives expression to the mute voice within things, thus echoing Böhme’s conception of an immanent illumination as expressed, e.g., in his theories of signatures and the language of nature. In his essay Det forseglede budskap (The Sealed Message), published in 1992, Mehren is critical of the postmodern deconstruction of the self, though he sees a justification for dissolving the notion of a substantial self to the extent that the self is understood as historically and socially conditioned. Where he parts ways with postmodernism is when he argues for a substantially united self. He refers instead to the notion of a transformed, “reborn” self central to a forgotten Western tradition, namely the Christian mysticism of for instance Jacob Böhme. As mentioned, Böhme has never been important within the hegemonic thought of modernity. Those who sought out his theosophy were mostly individuals searching for spiritual alternatives to contemporary religious orthodoxy and to the disenchantment of nature. Apart from a few scholars who have studied the historical significance of Böhme, he has mainly attracted the interest of countercultural movements and groups: At first, spiritualists and radical pietists who were opposed to religious orthodoxy; later, intellectuals and writers who were revolting against the materialism, naturalism, and rationalism of modernity. For all of them, Jacob Böhme was seen as the steward of a hidden wisdom about man and nature.

References

Andersen, Per Thomas, Stein Mehren – en logosdikter, Oslo: Aschehoug forlag, 1982. Åshild Paulsen, Magnus Berg, en kunstner ved kongens hoff, Oslo: Dreyer forlag, 1989. Berg, Magnus, Denne Sidste Verdens tids Speil Hvorudi Een Hver Kand beschue dend sande Christum udi sin Tempel som er det nye Creatur Ligeleedis dend falsche – eller AntiChristum Med sin høyspidsset opbygte Capelle udj dend gamble Adam, ca. 1721, unpublished manuscript at The Royal Library in Copenhagen, transcribed version at The National Library in Oslo.

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——— . Een kort og eenfoldig beskrivelse om det stoere Aandelige Babylon, Sodoma og Ægypten, dets begyndelse, Tilvæxt, fuldkommen Alder saa og Endelig, som indbefattis udi de syf Sende-breve til de syf Menigheds Engle udi asia etc. 1727, unpublished manuscript at The Royal Library in Copenhagen, transcribed version at The National Library in Oslo. Borgen, P., “Johannes Olsonius: Theosophus et Medicus Bergensis”, Norsk Teologisk Tidsskrift, 73 (1972), 1–27. Coucheron, Peter, “Om Mag. Niels Svendsen Krönikes Stridigheter med Præsteskabet i Christiania i Aarene 1642–1652”, Theologisk tidsskrift for den evangelisk-lutherske kirke i Norge, 1 (1858), 234–255, 257–298, 2 (1859), 46–67. Edvardsen, Edvard, Sapientia Coelestis ca. 1677, unpublished manuscript at the Royal Library in Copenhagen, transcribed version by Peder Borgen. Hansen, Jan-Erik Ebbestad, Jacob Böhme. Liv, tenkning, idéhistoriske forutsetninger, Oslo: Solum forlag, 1985. ——— . (ed.), Den levende kjærlighets flamme. Kristen mystikk fra Augustin til vår tid. Introductory essay by J.-E. Ebbestad Hansen, Oslo: Gyldendal Norsk Forlag, 2000. ——— . “Det forseglede budskap. Stein Mehren og mystikken”, in: Ole Karlsen (ed.), Som du holder mitt hjerte i din ømhet, Oslo: Unipub forlag, 2004, 79–96. ——— . (ed.), Vestens mystikk. Introductory essay by J.-E. Ebbestad Hansen, Oslo: De norske Bokklubbene, 2005. ——— . “Frihet og nødvendighet i F.W.J. Schellings frihetsfilosofi”, in: Friedrich W.J. Schelling, Om menneskets frihet, Oslo: Aschehoug, 2013, 7–47. Lyng, Georg Vilhelm, Grundtankernes system. Anden del. Metafysikken, Christiania: Osk. Knobelauchs forlag, 1883. Martensen, Hans Lassen, Jacob Bøhme. Theosophiske Studier, Kjøbenhavn: Gyldendalske Boghandels Forlag, 1881. Mehren, Stein, Det forseglede budskap: et essay om jeg-dannelse i lys av postmodernisme, mystikk og kjønnsroller, Oslo: Aschehoug kursiv, 1992. Monrad, Marcus Jacob, “Jakob Bøhmes Theosophie. En religionsphilosophisk og dogmatisk Undersøgelse af C. Henrik Scharling. Kjøbenhavn 1879”, Theologisk tidsskrift for den evangelisk-lutherske kirke i Norge, ny rekke, 8 (1882), 1–23. Oddmund Hjelde, Det indre lys. Religiøs mystikk i norsk litteratur og åndsliv, Oslo: Solum forlag, 1997. Rørdam, H.F. , “Separatisten M. Niels Svendsen Chronich og hans Tilhængere”, Kirke­ historiske Samlinger, tredje rekke, 3 (1881–1882), 508–609, 4 (1882–1884), 561–628. Scharling, C. Henrik, Jakob Bøhmes Theosophi. En religionsphilosophisk og dogmatisk Undersøgelse, Kjøbenhavn: Gads Forlag, 1879. Scott, Gabriel, Helgenen, Oslo: Gyldendal, 1936. ——— . Våren, Oslo: Gyldendal, 1940. ——— . Høsten, Oslo Gyldendal, 1947.

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Sejersted, Jørgen Magnus, Pasjonsdiktning på 1600-tallet: det er noen kommentarer til Aurora eller ny Morgenrøden av dikterpresten på Stord Peder Oluffssøn Svegning. Cand. philol. thesis, Nordic Studies, University of Bergen, 1994. Skaanes, Per Jakob, “Salige er de rene av hjertet, for de skal skue Gud”. En idéhistorisk undersøkelse av religiøs mystikk som litterært motiv i Gabriel Scotts romaner. Cand. philol. thesis, History of Ideas, University of Oslo, spring 2003. Steiner, Rudolf, Mystikken, Oslo: Antropos, 2004. Svegning, Peder Olufssøn, Aurora eller Ny Morgenrøden, Kiøbenhaffn: Jørgen Lamprecht, 1668. Valkner, Kristen, “Konrektor Edvart Edvartzen”, Nordisk tidsskrift för vetens­kap, konst och industri, 41 (1971), 426–439.

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Chapter 18 Christian Theosophy in Sweden

Christian Theosophy and the Influence of Böhme in Sweden Fabian Linde

Böhme in Sweden: General Considerations

The study of the reception of Böhme in Sweden is still in its early stages and the following outline should be considered as nothing more than a summingup of the present embryonic state of research. Although Böhme never travelled outside of his native region, his thought did wander northwards, in due course finding its way into heterodox varieties of Swedish spirituality. However, an unbroken tradition of Christian theosophy never developed on Swedish soil, as it did on the continent and in England, no doubt owing to the organised opposition of the theological authorities, who quite effectively neutralised all attempts at dissent. This said, it is possible to discern an influence on two historical currents: first, on Paracelsianism, involving mainly secular scholars and physicians (Lindroth 1943), and, second, on Pietism, a revivalist movement pervasive among nonconformist clergymen and devout laypeople. Out of the latter, a radical subcurrent developed on the fringes of the Swedish national church. Whereas the Hermetic-Paracelsist current attached itself to the sphere traditionally dedicated to knowledge, Pietism struggled as a heterodox movement within, or on the periphery of, the domain traditionally devoted to faith. If the former has been proto-scientific and esoteric, the latter has been more devotional and mystically inclined.

The Seventeenth Century

After having adopted Lutheranism in the sixteenth century, the established Church worked hard to consolidate its teachings and position of power. Sweden developed into a country without freedom of religion, in which the religious views of its citizens were supervised and regulated by the ecclesiastical authorities, whose insistence on the hegemony of Lutheran Orthodoxy was rigorous. Other viewpoints than the accepted creed, such as those represented by Calvinism and Catholicism, not to speak of Judaism, were strictly prohibited. Individuals who were found guilty of heresy or of deviating in any way

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from Lutheran orthodoxy were exiled or punished in other ways. Even capital punishment was applied in some cases. As a result, dissenters were forced either to keep their opinions to themselves or face the harsh consequences that followed upon a public declaration of faith. It is hardly surprising, then, that Sweden experienced several waves of religiously motivated emigration throughout its Early Modern history. It goes without saying that the teachings of Böhme were considered a false and subversive doctrine by the theological authorities. Its adherents were branded fanatics (Sw. svärmare) in much the same way as Martin Luther in his day had attempted to ostracise some of his more radical contemporaries. Given the risk of persecution, one should not expect the influence coming from Böhme to be readily apparent, but instead realise that it flowed forth like a more or less hidden stream in the spiritual life of the nation. This also entailed that the translations into Swedish of Böhme’s works, which have been few and far between, were for the most part made anonymously and spread in manuscript form only, making it difficult for scholars to contextualise them with any greater degree of accuracy. It is probable that the Swedish reception of Böhme commenced already a few years after his death. On a visit to Danzig in 1641, the Swedish esoteric autodidact and self-styled Rosicrucian Johannes Bureus (1568–1652) made the personal acquaintance of Böhme’s friend and first biographer, Abraham von Franckenberg (1593–1652). It is more than likely that Bureus came to know of Böhme’s teachings at this time, although we lack textual evidence to establish this fact conclusively. Bureus, who was placed close to the pinnacle of power, is undoubtedly one of Sweden’s most neglected intellectual pioneers, whose reputation has been tainted by his unconventional interests in Christian Kabbalah, numerology, astrology, and the magic properties of runes (Karlsson 2009). Not only was he the personal tutor of both King Gustavus Adolphus and Crown Princess Christina, he was also the country’s first national archivist and antiquarian, as well as the first head of the Royal Library (from 1611 to 1634). It was he who first began to collect and decipher the nation’s rich heritage of runic inscriptions, and he is also credited with having compiled the first grammar of the Swedish language. During his lifetime, Bureus encountered opposition from the Lutheran clergy, who raised doubts about his orthodoxy. He was acquitted from the accusations of heresy that were levelled at him owing solely to the personal intervention of the king. Later in the seventeenth century, Böhme helped to inspire in Sweden a number of strongly apocalyptic and chiliastic projects. One of these was that of Anders Pedersson Kempe (ca. 1622–1689), who was forced to leave the country owing to his radical pacifism. Kempe was an alchemist and an important precursor of Pietism, inspired by Paul Felgenhauer, Paracelsus, and Valentin

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Weigel (Ambjörnsson 1993). Two other precursors of Pietism during the end of the seventeenth century, Lars Ulstadius (ca. 1650–1732) and his disciple Peter Schaefer (ca. 1660–1729), were apocalyptic penitent preachers from the Finnish city of Åbo (Fi. Turku) who displayed a great deal of hostility towards the Church. They were accused of heresy in a court trial in 1689, which ended with Ulstadius being condemned to imprisonment for life, while Schaefer was allowed to emigrate after recanting. Schaefer later became acquainted with Gottfried Arnold (1666–1714), before returning to Åbo. He was then brought to court anew and condemned to capital punishment, a verdict which was later converted to life imprisonment.

The Eighteenth Century

In 1726, the Lutheran clergy sought to tighten its grip on power when the socalled Konventikel­plakatet was adopted, a law prohibiting the population from organising religious gatherings or prayer meetings, so-called conventicles, without the attendance of a priest from the national Church. This law, not abolished until 1858, was above all directed against Pietism, which surfaced in Sweden during the 1720s. Pietism was a movement that strove to intensify religious fervour and deepen faith by appealing to the emotional life of its devotees rather than to their intellect. Although it was perhaps not esoteric in the strict sense of the word, esoteric writers such as Jacob Böhme and Gottfried Arnold constituted important sources of inspiration. Its greatest German forerunner, however, was Johann Arndt (1555–1621), whose Vier Bücher vom wahren Christentum (Four Books on True Christianity) became exceptionally popular in Sweden. The fourth of these books propounds a Paracelsian philosophy of nature, although this has often been left out of the translations. Swedish Pietism’s period of greatness was the beginning of the 1730s, when it was embraced by soldiers formerly belonging to the army of Charles XII, who had experienced untold hardships in the Great Northern War against Russia and now sought spiritual consolation. Although it did not produce any writer of lasting value, the movement did play a crucial role in Swedish church history, owing to the fact that it set in motion a process in which the established Church began to loosen its firm grip on the population (Lindroth 1975: 127). In this sense, it was an important precursor of the Swedish revivalist movement and of the Free Churches that arose during the nineteenth century, and which to this very day make up an important feature of the religious life of the nation. The foremost representative of the older, more moderate, and ecclesiastical form of Pietism was Erik Tolstadius (1693–1759), a vicar in the centre of

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Stockholm. Tolstadius had become a Pietist under the direct influence of the German physician and alchemist Johann Konrad Dippel (1673–1734), who sojourned in Stockholm during the years 1726–28 and disseminated his teachings there. Dippel was eventually expelled, and Tolstadius was then accused of being his follower, but was acquitted after intense cross-examination. Whereas Tolstadius adhered to a practically-oriented piety, Dippel was more rationalistically and indiviualistically minded, and is sometimes regarded as a forerunner of the Enlightenment. The latter also propounded a theosophical and alchemical philosophy of nature. During his stay in Sweden, Dippel became the source of inspiration for Radical Pietism. When the mentioned law on conventicles was adopted at this time, Swedish Pietism naturally became more radicalised and many of its representatives were forced underground. They came to heavily criticise the Orthodox Lutheran views on atonement, scriptural literalism, and the sacraments, and questioned the authority of the clergy. Of the few Radical Pietist groups that were formed at this time, one was centred on Sven Rosén (1708– 1750), who became the leader of Sweden’s first separatist congregation. He was a friend of Dippel and like his contemporary, Carl Michael von Strokirch (1702– 1776), came to work actively towards the establishment in Sweden of freedom of religion. A lengthy trial was later launched against both of these men. Rosén was eventually condemned to exile, after which he emigrated to Germany, and, from there, to America where he remained until his death. By 1740, Radical Pietism had been stamped out and a spiritual void followed in its wake, later to be filled only by Herrnhutism, a movement with roots in Pietism, although less separatist than the radical variety of the latter. The impor­tance of Böhme diminished in the process, although it is possible to speculate about an influence on individual wandering preachers well into the nineteenth century. Another group which deserves mention in this connection is variously known as Främlingarna (The Strangers) and Skeviksborna (Settlers in Skevik, after the farm where the group came to live). They were among the first to be condemned to exile on charges of heresy during the eighteenth century. Böhme, whom they possibly were the first to translate into Swedish, took pride of place in their readings. Originally consisting of only two brothers from Ostrobothnia in Finland, the size of the group increased to about ninety members during the period in exile. For the duration of eleven years they travelled from country to country, eventually returning to Sweden where they found a refuge in Skevik on the island of Värmdö in the Stockholm archipelago. From then on, the authorities let them be and they were even visited at one time by

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the king himself. However, their radicalism was such that they eventually came to reject mundane society altogether, and within a few decades the group had died out, due to the practice of celibacy. The dearth of historical sources poses a challenge to scholarly attempts at reconstructing the beliefs of this group. It has nevertheless been possible to establish that they were autonomists who rejected the validity of the sacraments, as well as the legitimacy of the clergy, and that they promoted the establishment of an intimate relationship between the individual and God. Whether Böhme exerted any influence on the internationally most wellknown of Swedish mystics, Emanuel Swedenborg (1688–1772), remains an open question. The Swabian priest and Pietist Friedrich Christoph Oetinger (1702–1782), who corresponded with Swedenborg, once asked him explicitly about his relation to Böhme. In his reply, Swedenborg claimed that he had been forbidden to consult any dogmatic works subsequent to the commencement of his revelations. The answer is far from unambiguous, given that Böhme’s works hardly can be categorised as dogmatic. Moreover, there is every reason to believe that Swedenborg knew Böhme’s teachings quite well, in view of the fact that his intimate friend and follower, Thomas Hartley, a physician based in London, was an avid reader of the works of Böhme and in all probability must have discussed the latter’s teachings with him. Swedish Freemasonry, which experienced a Golden Age during the reign of Gustavus III, should also be mentioned here. Under the grandmastery of the king’s brother, Duke Charles, later crowned Charles XIII (reigned 1809–1818), the Swedish Order of Freemasons entered an era when esoteric matters, such as alchemy and Christian Kabbalah, enjoyed wide popularity in its top circles. Further research will very likely uncover interesting connections between this movement and Böhme, and establish what truth there is to the claim that Anders Collin (1754–1830) introduced the duke and future king to the writings of Böhme (Forsstrand 1913).

The Nineteenth Century

Having been marginalised by the prevalent Rationalism of the Enlightenment, Böhme returned to favour during the Romantic era, as was the case on the continent. A number of prominent Swedish writers of the age, such as Per Daniel Amadeus Atterbom (1790–1855) and Carl Jonas Love Almqvist (1793– 1866), are known to have read Böhme. In Erik Johan Stagnelius’ (1793–1823) poetry, which draws heavily on Gnostic and Mandaean motifs, one can easily

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recognise the rudiments of a Hermetic cosmology, inspired by readings of Böhme (Nilsson 1916). As exemplified, for instance, by the poem “Tingens natur” (The Nature of Things) from 1820, there are to be found such motifs as the vision of a dark abyss in the innermost plane of Being, the mystical Nothingness (Sw. Intet), which clearly reverberates with Böhme’s Ungrund. Even so, scholarship has experienced difficulties in pinpointing the exact nature of the influence of Böhme on Swedish Romanticism owing to the fact that his ideas often were mediated via German Romantic philosophy, above all that of Schelling, and thus reached Sweden in a somewhat diluted form. Later in the century, the so-called Bergman circle was formed. It consisted of a number of chaplains to the king who in the period stretching from the 1860s to the 1890s collectively nurtured a deep interest in mysticism. According to Bengt Åberg, the Bergman circle constituted a link in a chain of mystics whose origins can be traced back to the early decades of the eighteenth century, when Pietism had its heyday. The legacy of individuals such as Tolstadius, Rosén, and Collin, mentioned above, was handed down through networks of personal contacts (Åberg 1968: 55ff). Unlike the Radical Pietists, the Bergman circle remained loyal to the State Church. The views shared by its members can best be described as a mixture of Böhme-influenced theosophy and quietist mysticism. Among its core members were such individuals as the chaplain Carl Henrik Bergman (1828–1909); the professor, later bishop and fellow of the Swedish academy, Waldemar Rudin (1833–1921); the pioneers in Free Church aid, Johan Christopher Bring (1829–1898) and Gustaf Emanuel Beskow (1834– 1899). The circle assembled a library containing the writings of Christian mystics and theosophers that became known as the Petri collection, which at present is housed in the Sigtuna Foundation. The writings of Böhme are well represented in this collection, which contains the major editions of his collected works in the original German, as well as a few autographic translations of Böhme into Swedish made by the brothers Carl Henrik and Wilhelm Bergman. Also represented in the collection are works by some of Böhme’s most important followers, such as Louis Claude de Saint-Martin (1743–1803) and Franz von Baader (1765–1841).

The Twentieth Century

During the last century, the most significant figure in Sweden to be inspired by Böhme was the mystic Hjalmar Ekström (1885–1962), who, like Böhme himself, was a shoemaker by profession. Ekström’s letters, in which he offered spiritual guidance and consolation, have been published in several editions (Ekström

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1988, 2012). As these letters testify, Ekström valued Böhme highly after having come into contact with his thought early on. From 1922 onwards, he would gather a number of likeminded friends in Stockholm, a group which later become known as the Flodberg circle, whose members jointly strived to emulate Christ. One of its members, the customs officer Henrik Schager, bequeathed on it the legacy of the Bergman circle, which was mentioned above (Ljungman 1984). With only one minor exception in the nineteenth century, not until the twentieth century were translations into Swedish of Böhme’s works ever published. The time had finally arrived when Böhme could reach a wider audience. The translations were made by Eric Hermelin (1860–1944), an eccentric aristocrat who published prolifically while living in a mental institution in the city of Lund. Hermelin attempted to stylistically reproduce the archaic and rich language of the Swedish Bible translation from the time of Charles XII. Incidentally, Hermelin was a friend of Hjalmar Ekström, with whom he exchanged letters for the duration of roughly two decades. In his commentaries to the translations, Hermelin frequently drew his reader’s attention to the similarities that he thought existed between Böhme’s teachings and those of the Persian Sufis whose writings he translated as well.

References

Åberg, Bengt, Individualitet och universalitet hos Waldemar Rudin: jämte en teckning av hans kyrkohistoriska bakgrund, Acad. Diss., Stockholm: Verbum, 1968. Ambjörnsson, Ronny, “Krig och fred: Om en glömd pacifist från de stora krigens tid”, in: Gunnar Broberg (ed.), Svensk historia underifrån: Tänka, tycka, tro, Stockholm: Ordfronts förlag, 1993, 102–125. Böhme, Jakob, Böner, transl. B. E. P., Stockholm: A.V. Carlson, 1900. ———. De poenitentia: Om den sanna hängifvenheten; Om den heliga bönen, transl. Erik Hermelin, Stockholm: P.A. Norstedt & söner, 1918. ———. Om de fyra lynnena: Gudomlig syn; Om födelse på nytt; Mysterium pansophicum, transl. Erik Hermelin, Stockholm: P.A. Norstedt & Söner, 1918. ——— . Det gudomliga väsendets tre principia, transl. Erik Hermelin, Stockholm: P.A. Norstedt & söner, 1920. ——— . Om människans trefaldiga lif, transl. Erik Hermelin, Stockholm: P.A. Norstedt & söner, 1920. Published translations of Böhme into Swedish: ——— . Sanningens Väg framstäld i samtal mellan lärjunge och mästare, transl. Carl Henrik Bergman, Stockholm: A. Nilson, 1875 (2nd ed., Stockholm: Samfundet Pro Fide et Christianismo, 1923).

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——— . Om lycka på jorden: naturen med sina färger och toner, transl. Ann-Britt Andersson, St. Gallen: Quellen, 1998. Ekström, Hjalmar, Den stilla kammaren. Brev av Hjalmar Ekström, Skellefteå: Artos, 1988. ——— . Den fördolda verkstaden: Själavårdande brev, Skellefteå: Artos, 2012. Forsstrand, Carl, Spåkvinnor och trollkarlar: minnen och anteckningar från Gustaf IIIs Stockholm, Stockholm: Geber, 1913. Geels, Antoon, Det fördolda livet: mystikern Hjalmar Ekström (1885–1962) – liv och lära, Skellefteå: Artos, 1996. Halldorf, Peter, Hädanefter blir vägen väglös, Göteborg: Trots allt / Pilgrim, 1998. Källor till trygghet: tankar och dikter, transl. Ann-Britt Andersson, Malmö: Bergh, 1982 (2nd ed., Solna: Seelig, 1990). Karlsson, Thomas, Götisk kabbala och runisk alkemi: Johannes Bureus och den götiska esoterismen, Acad. Diss., Stockholm: Stockholms universitet, 2010. Lindroth, Sten, Paracelsismen i Sverige till 1600-talets mitt, Uppsala: Lychnos, 1943. ——— . Svensk lärdomshistoria: Stormaktstiden, Stockholm: Norstedts, 1975. Ljungman, Ulrika, Gud – och intet mer: Levnadsteckningar och brev från den mystika Flodbergskretsen: Carl A. Flodberg, Henrik Schager, Linnea Hofgren, Hjalmar Ekström, Skellefteå: Artos, 1984. Mazer, Theodor (ed.), Sanningsfrön: brottstycken ur skrifter af Jacob Böhme och Franz von Baader, 2 vols., ed., Stockholm: Ad. Johnson & C:o, 1927–1929. Nilsson, Albert, Svensk romantik: Den platonska strömningen, Lund: Gleerup, 1916.

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Chapter 19 Freemasonry in Denmark

Freemasonry in Denmark Andreas Önnerfors At the time when Freemasonry was introduced in the country, the Kingdom of Denmark was a conglomerate state made up of a large variety of territories, from Greenland and Iceland in the North, to Norway, the Danish isles and Jutland in the South. The Danish conglomerate state, the so-called “Helstat”, also comprised German-speaking territories as well as possessions in the old German empire (Slesvig and Holstein in addition to the important port city of Altona across from Hamburg). These German possessions were administrated separately. For any proper understanding of cultural processes and transfer of ideas it is vital to take this multicultural background of the Danish realm into consideration. Freemasonry in Norway, the origin of which directly relates to its link with Denmark and developed further during the union with Sweden 1814–1905, is treated in a separate chapter in this volume and is therefore not discussed in the present chapter. Freemasonry in Denmark developed in four different phases: 1743–1765: its introduction up to the establishment of the Strict Observance; 1765–1782: the zenith of the Strict Observance; 1782–1855: the period of the Rectified System; 1855/1858-present: the Swedish system as practised in Den Danske Fri­murer­orden. It is also worth mentioning that a non-Christian order, Det Danske Frimur­ erlaug, was established during this last phase, in 1929. The difference between these two orders is that Den Danske Frimurerorden (around 10,000 members) applies a system that is distinctly indebted to a Christian Western esoteric tradition, whereas Det Danske Frimurerlaug (around 1,700 members) was established as a union of movements that accepted the deist and religiously tolerant principles based upon the original constitutions of Freemasonry of 1723. The latter considers itself an organisation in the tradition of the United Grand Lodge of England. Both organisations suffered substantially during the Nazi German occupation of Denmark and the anti-masonic persecutions during this period. Freemasonry in Denmark has, however, since then developed into a vibrant movement and has recently (as of 2014) featured extensively in the Danish media.

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Period of Introduction

The first lodges in the Free and Hanseatic City of Hamburg were established already in the 1730s. A provincial lodge of Lower Saxony was formed at the end of the decade, theoretically also with jurisdiction over the German possessions under the Danish crown. A number of Danish subjects had joined Freemasonry in Hamburg as well as in the lodge Aux trois globes (The Three Globes) in Berlin. We find Danish members in a couple of the oldest lodges on German territory. Some of those members in 1743 and 1744 formed the first Danish lodges working in Copenhagen: St. Martin and Zorobabel. Around fifty Danish Freemasons who had been initiated in various German towns, Geneva, Scotland, London, and Paris now joined the lodges in Copenhagen. Strangely enough, one the first signs of the influence of Freemasonry on Danish territory is, however, the foundation of an “Anti-masonic society” already in 1741. Most likely this was the result of a first wave of anti-masonic ideas and practices in Europe after the papal condemnation in 1738. This society in itself adopted many features of a masonic organisation, including secret passwords, symbols and signs, jewels and special dresses. Later on, many members of this anti-masonic society would join masonic lodges in Denmark. This episode shows how widespread the European consciousness about Freemasonry was at this relatively early stage. The first proper Danish lodge, St. Martin, was formed in November 1743 (later constituted with an English patent in 1749) in Copenhagen. It is interesting to note that the minutes were written in German, and besides people with origins in the Danish realm the members were of a multinational background (Russia, Sweden, France). The language of the ritual was also German until the late 1770s. A second lodge, Zorobabel, was founded in June 1744 (English patent 1745). It is from this lodge that the initiative came to publish one of the most prominent masonic songbooks of the eighteenth century, Johan Adolph Scheibe’s Neue Freymaurer-Lieder (with the first of many editions printed in 1749). A prominent Freemason, Wilhelm Matthias Neergard, formed irregular lodges working in craft and higher degrees from 1750 onwards. These lodges apparently worked with a more elaborate ritual that was performed with a rich variety of artefacts. Neergard also established the first Danish lodge for women Freemasons. It is also of interest that a lodge Phoenix was founded in 1763 by the secretary in the British diplomatic mission Carl Adolph Tullmann. Two years later, Tullmann would cause a split in Swedish Freemasonry by establishing lodges with constitution from London, contesting the existing Swedish Grand Lodge that had a stronger link to France. The first lodge in Norway (which at the time belonged to the Danish realm), St. Olaus til den hvite Leopard,

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was founded in Kristiania (Oslo) in 1749 on the initiative of many brethren from Copenhagen. During the period 1743–1765 no less than ten lodges were constituted in Copenhagen, four of them working the Scottish degrees; the first lodge of these latter was established in 1747 under the name of The Four Ore Columns. The introduction of Scottish lodges in Copenhagen is closely linked to what was most probably the first Scottish lodge on German territory, L’Union, established 30 November 1742 in Berlin. The rituals worked in these lodges can only partially be reconstructed. In comparison to the first three craft degrees, the constitutive motive of the Scottish degrees follows the narrative of the destruction and symbolical restoration of the Temple of Solomon. This narrative has many features linking it to ideas found in the Western Christian esoteric tradition and as well as in chivalric motives. In 1762, the above-mentioned Neergard had through his contacts with Berlin established the first chivalric masonic chapter working according to the so-called Clermont system. This masonic system was the first to consequently adopt a ritual built upon the chivalric order of the Knights Templar. As “Magister Prium” Neergard presided over a “Capitulum Hiersolymintanum” in Copenhagen (called Capitulum Hafniense).

The Strict Observance

This latter episode forms the prelude to the introduction of the Strict Observ­ ance to Denmark. Since 1754, a masonic system claiming an ancestry going back to the Order of Knights Templar existed in Germany. This system, the socalled Strict Observance, successfully contested the chapters founded by Clermont and began to replace them, starting in 1764. The goal of this new masonic system was to subdue all existing lodges and to submit them to a “strict observance” of its own rules, hence the name. Regular craft lodges and chapters now formed nine provinces of the order, ruled by “unknown superiors” and cutting across state borders in Europe. As this division of the order was based upon the supposed medieval administrative division of the Knights Templar, the VIIth province covered the vast territory between “Oder and Elbe”, Denmark, Sweden, and parts of the Baltic region were also counted to this province. The province was subdivided into four parts, called Sub-priorates, and these again in eight prefectures, divided into commanderies. Denmark, as prefecture Binin (Copenhagen) and Holstein and Slesvig under the prefecture Ivenack (Hamburg) belonged to the Sub-priorat Ratzeburg (Rostock in Mecklenburg). The prefecture Binin was subdivided into the commanders Plessin, Collin, Trelswe, Priebernkow, Edesmum, Edenwisch, Fulsbüttel, and

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Lundsberg. All of these names were derived from medieval sources. The leader of the Order was the German Baron von Hund, who also presided over the government of the order from his estate Unwürde. When the Strict Observ­ance finally was established in 1764, its emissary Johan Christian Schubart travelled around the territory of the VIIth province in order to convert as many lodges as possible to the new system. In 1765 he arrived in Copenhagen and managed to affiliate the existing lodges there with the Strict Observance. This new affiliation caused significant changes in the existing rituals and introduced a coherent system of initiation from the craft to the chivalric degrees. In 1775 Prince Charles of Hesse-Kassel, governor of the German territories under the Danish crown, was initiated in the Danish lodge Josua zum Corallen­ baum in Rendsburg. Over the subsequent sixty years he profoundly influenced the development of Freemasonry in Denmark. At his estates in Louisenlund he designed a magnificent landscape garden with many initiatory and esoteric motifs. Furthermore, the prince was deeply involved in alchemical workings and all kinds of esoteric practices of the time. On his initiative a new prefecture in the Strict Observance was formed, Eydendorp. After the death of the leader of the Strict Observance, von Hund, a crisis erupted that to a high degree was caused by the anti-Swedish sentiments of the Danish government and in consequence, Freemasonry. The Swedish prince Duke Charles of Sudermania attempted to replace von Hund and had prepared the ground for this step with a diplomatic mission. The duke was nominated for election at a convent of the Strict Observance in Leipzig, but the Danish prefectures vehemently rejected this appointment. After reconciliation Duke Charles was elected, but now the Danes refused to take an oath of allegiance to a foreign prince. After Sweden had formed its own, IXth, province of the order in 1780, the situation worsened further and the Danish king signed a royal proclamation against any Danish Freemasons submitting to Swedish rule. It was only a matter of time until this episode and several other severe internal problems within the Strict Observance would lead to its downfall. At a European congress in summer 1782 in Wilhelmsbad, the system that had been established by von Hund thirty years earlier was abolished.

The Rectified System

A new system, Chevaliers Bienfaisants de la Cité Sainte, was introduced. However, the delegates of the convent in Wilhelmsbad were declared free to adopt it. Only the lodges under the rule of the Prince of Hesse-Kassel and three

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French Scottish directorates decided to organise themselves according to the new rituals. The Rectified rite modified and toned down the Knights Templar motive in the higher degrees, but retained a consistent degree structure with many Christian and esoteric features. There was some initial resistance in Denmark to adopt this system, and the process of implementing it took until 1786 when the Strict Observance finally was dissolved. Almost the entire archive of the Strict Observance finally ended up in the collections of the Danish Order of Freemasons and is today one of the major sources for masonic studies in Europe. Freemasonry was not too affected by the high politics that had shaken the movement during the 1770s and 1780s, and could therefore expand through the Danish realm, out into provincial towns like Husum, Slesvig or Altona, and even to the Danish isles in the Caribbean, St. Croix and St. Thomas, as well as to the small Indian colony of Tranquebar, where lodges were founded. During the last decade of the eighteenth century, the cosmopolitan character of Danish lodges, in terms of their multinational membership and the use of foreign languages (German and French), changed as more and more members from the socially advancing middle classes joined. The lodges now started to switch to performing rituals and instructions in Danish. The Danish lodges did not form a united body until 1818 when an “Old Scottish Directorate” was established and even received governmental approval. After his death in 1836, its first “General Grand Master” Prince Carl of Hesse-Kassel was replaced by Prince Christian Frederik (later crowned as King Christian VIII). A remarkable character of this period in Danish Freemasonry was Friedrich Münther (1761–1830), savant, Illuminate, bishop. Born in Germany, he spent his childhood and adolescence in Copenhagen. He pursued a broad education in theology, natural sciences, and classical languages. Already at the age of nineteen he entered Freemasonry and during his Grand Tour on the continent became lodge officer in a German lodge in Gotha. Shortly afterwards, he spent a long period of time in Vienna in close interaction with the lodge Zur wahren Eintracht, that was frequented by Mozart and led by the mineralogist and Illuminate Ignaz von Born. From Austria Münther travelled further to the Italian states, where he visited a large number of lodges and made acquaintance with the German poet Goethe. Upon his return to Copenhagen, Münther was affiliated with the lodge Friedrich zur gekrönten Hoffnung and became an ardent member, presenting lectures that demonstrated the profound knowledge about various masonic systems that he had acquired during his travels abroad. Already in 1788 Münther was appointed professor of theology at the University of Copenhagen. He achieved an international reputation as a

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scholar, especially in ecclesiastical law, church history, and Egyptology. In 1794 Münther published the Statutes of the Order of Knights Templar based on an old French manuscript. In 1808 he was appointed bishop of Sealand. In the middle of the nineteenth century, national sentiments sweeping over Europe threatened the unity of Danish Freemasonry. In 1848, national liberals in the German parts of the Danish realm called for independence. Backed up by Prussia a civil war with heavy nationalist undertones was fought, ending in 1850 without any changes of the political situation. As a consequence, the lodges on German territory declared themselves independent from the Danish grand lodge, but were affiliated again after the unsuccessful civil war. In 1856, the Swedish Rite was introduced in all parts of the Danish realm. After the final loss of Slesvig and Holstein in the Danish-Prussian war of 1864, the Danish lodges on German territory fell under the jurisdiction of the Grosse Landesloge von Deutschland.

The Introduction of the Swedish Rite

The growth of national sentiments in Europe sparked off a remarkable cultural current, Scandinavianism, that linked Denmark and Sweden. It started off in the 1840s as a pan-Scandinavic student movement, with students at the universities of Lund and Copenhagen crossing the Oresund in order to celebrate cultural brotherhood. These fraternal sentiments were strengthened by the first war in Slesvig, and Sweden-Norway even promised to take part in the war on the Danish side. At the peak of this important cultural movement, Danish Freemasonry overcame its old hostility towards the Swedish Rite and worked actively for its introduction. Although Scandinavianism and the new rapprochement between Denmark and Sweden cooled down significantly after Sweden declined to support Denmark in the unsuccessful war against Prussia in 1864, Danish Freemasonry has remained faithful to the Swedish Rite ever since. As its Scandinavian counterparts, it has developed along with Danish societal and historical progression during the twentieth century with a recurring pressure to reveal its supposed “secrets” that remain an object of significant speculation and attraction.

References

Bartholdy, Nils, “Friederich Münter – videnskapsmand og frimurer”, Acta Masonica Scandinavica I (1998), 15–39 .

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Bugge, Karl Ludwig, Det danske frimureries historie indtill aar 1765, Copenhagen: Rom, 1910 . ——— . Det danske frimureriets historie indtill aar 1855, Copenhagen: Rom, 1927.

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Chapter 20 Freemasonry in Finland

Freemasonry in Finland Nils G. Holm

The Arrival of Freemasonry in Finland

During the Enlightenment in the eighteenth century, Freemasonry experienced a time of expansion in many countries in Europe (MacNulty 2007). Freemasonry came to Sweden at the beginning of the century and as early as 1756 the first lodge intended for Finland, St. Augustine, named after the Church Father, was established in Stockholm. The first Worshipful Master (the senior officer in a masonic lodge) was John Jennings, cavalry captain and later to become Master of the Royal Household. In 1762 the St. Augustine lodge transferred its activities to Helsinki. This was because the majority of the members were officers posted to the fortress of Sveaborg/Viapori (now Suomenlinna) off Helsinki. (Many cities in Finland have a Finnish and a Swedish name, since both languages are official languages of the country. Where relevant, both names are given, separated by a slash and with the Swedish name first.) The first meeting in Helsinki was held on 28 August 1762 with Baron Hans Henrik Boije af Gennäs as Worshipful Master. He also became number one in the roll of members (Gräsbeck 1954). During the years 1765 and 1766, the lodge met in Stockholm, since the Swedish Parliament assembled there and many of the members of the lodge therefore lived in Stockholm. During the time in Stockholm the lodge gained new members. Freemasonry soon generated criticism from the church because of its ideology and activities. As early as 1769, the diocese of Borgå/Porvoo looked upon Freemasonry as a threat to the ecclesiastical order. The early 1770s were a period of decline for the lodge’s activities. However, after Carl Björnberg had been made Worshipful Master, activities revived once more during the latter part of 1776. After that, the lodge seems to have thrived. On 17 July 1782 Duke Charles (later to become King Charles XIII, 1748–1818) visited the lodge, and this was of great importance for the stabilisation of the lodge’s work. During the years 1787–1790, however, the lodge’s activities again declined because of Gustavus III’s war against Russia. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, the lodge experienced a new revival under Baron Axel Gabriel Leijonhufvud’s leadership. After the war between Sweden and Russia in 1808–09, Finland became a Grand Duchy under the Russian tsar. Since contacts with Sweden were more or less impossible after that, it was decided in 1813 to discontinue Freemasonry in Finland. The © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_022

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funds accumulated by Freemasons were handed over to the city of Helsinki to be used for the welfare of the poor. In 1822 the tsar ordered that Freemasonry should be banned in the Russian empire. Further additions to the ban were issued by the tsar in 1826 and 1848. Individual Freemasons nevertheless continued in secret to be members of lodges abroad. Varieties of Freemasonry that worked with the higher degrees also reached Finland during the Swedish era. In 1777 the Phoenix lodge that conferred Andrew degrees was founded in Helsinki. The St. Andrew Phoenix lodge started its activities only in 1790, however. For the higher degrees the chapter lodge, Finska Capitlet (Finnish Chapter), was set up in Åbo/Turku in 1778. Its activities remained modest, however (Bergroth 1991; Ahtokari 2000; Bergroth 2006; Nyberg 2005). It may be noted that other orders and societies established a foothold in Finland during the period of union with Sweden. These included the Timmer­ mans­orden (Order of Carpenters), the Arla Coldinu Order, and the Aurora Society. The Order of Carpenters, which was, allegedly, founded in England in 1522, was active in Viborg/Viipuri and Åbo/Turku. Some 500 persons, mainly officers and civil servants, belonged to the two lodges. The activities of the order were quite similar to those of Freemasonry and focused on the pastoral aspect. It had close links with the Swedish royal house. The Arla Coldinu order was founded in Sweden in 1765 and soon acquired lodges in Finland, e.g., in Viborg/ Viipuri. Charitable activities also formed part of its programme. It has revived its activities in Finland and still operates today. The Aurora Society was active primarily in Turku and operated in collaboration with the Swedish university, Åbo Akademi. It focused on culture and on overall education. Conse­quently, it published the first newspaper in Finland, Tidningar utgifvne af et Sällskap i Åbo. A number of other orders and societies were founded towards the end of the eighteenth century in Finland. Many of them concentrated their attention on helping others but also on developing social life (Stenius 1987; Ahtokari 2000). The period of Russian rule meant, as we have already seen, that Freemasonry was discontinued. Nonetheless, some individual Freemasons met and discussed common topics of interest over a meal together. A somewhat strange memory of the Russian times was the visits paid to the grave of Major Fredrik Granatenhjelm in the Kajsaniemi Park in Helsinki. Granatenhjelm was a wellknown benefactor in the eighteenth century, and Freemasons organised his funeral in 1784 although he never was a Freemason. In the early twentieth century, it became the custom among Freemasons to lay a wreath on Gra­ naten­hjelm’s grave each year on 1 May, a custom that continues to this day. It was also decided to set up a society in his memory. In 1913 this was transformed into Granatenhjelms Stiftelse (The Granatenhjelm Foundation), which came

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to be the seed from which Swedish-speaking Freemasonry was to spring up once more (Ahtokari 2000; Bergroth 2006).

The Years 1918–1939

After Finland had achieved its independence at the end of 1917, it did not take long before the idea of Freemasonry was again revived in the capital. As early as 6 January 1918, Axel Salingre, a dentist, sent an application to the Swedish Order of Freemasons to found a brother society in Helsinki. The application was rejected, however. The order in Stockholm was uncertain about how the political situation in Finland would evolve. It must be remembered that there was, after all, a civil war in Finland. Nevertheless, in 1920 members of the Granatenhjelm Foundation took the initiative of setting up a lodge. They wanted to unite Finnish-speaking and Swedish-speaking Freemasons in Finland in a joint organisation. Nothing came of this attempt at union, however. Developments led to the foundation of two masonic organisations, one working mainly in Finnish following the Anglo-American system, and the other working in Swedish along the lines of the Swedish Order of Freemasons. It should be remembered that at the beginning of the 1920s many organisations in Finland operated along linguistic lines. The cultural climate of the day was such that there should preferably be a marked distinction between Swedish and Finnish speakers. It was also considered important to raise the status of the Finnish language in a cultural context. It was against this background that it was decided in the autumn of 1922 to approach the Order in Stockholm, and a promise was received from the Swedish organisation to set up a Craft lodge. Somewhat earlier, the predominantly Finnish-speaking brothers had sent an application to the Grand Lodge in New York asking to set up a masonic lodge in Helsinki. The Finnish speakers were somewhat ahead and founded the Suomi Lodge No. 1 on 18 August 1922. To begin with it was a bilingual lodge. The corresponding Swedish lodge was established on 3 April 1923. In effect, it was a revival of the original St. Johannes Lodge St. Augustine of the eighteenth century. The first Worshipful Master was Consul General Gösta Salingre (Ahtokari 2000; Nyberg [2005]). Behind the establishment of the Suomi Lodge No. 1 lay Finnish emigrants to America. It was, above all, Toivo H. Nekton who was active in this respect. He was a lawyer in New York and an emigrant from Finland. Nekton was nominated by Grand Master Arthur S. Tompkins in New York as Deputy Grand Master for the masonic district in the Republic of Finland and authorised to set up lodges of Freemasons in Finland until the country got its own first Grand

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Lodge. The lodge Tammer II was founded in Tampere on 1 August 1923 and the following day the Phoenix III lodge was founded in Turku. It should be noted that Phoenix III was mainly a Swedish-speaking lodge during its first years. Officially it is still bilingual even today. With three lodges in Finland, it became possible to found a Grand Lodge and this took place on 9 September 1924. The first Grand Master was Consul General Axel Solitander. Among the first Freemasons on the Finnish-speaking side may be noted the Finnish composer Jean Sibelius (1865–1957). His masonic music is even today frequently played in Finnish lodges. By 1939 a further two lodges working on the Anglo-American pattern had been established. These were the Johannes lodge No. 4, founded in 1928, and the St. Henrik No. 5 lodge, founded in 1929. The latter uses Swedish as the language for its rites (Ahtokari 1998, 2000; Ekman 1997; cf. also copies of histories of the St. Henrik No. 5 lodge). The text of the rites used by the Anglo-American lodges in Finland is a translation of the corresponding English rites both in the USA and in Great Britain. It also has traits from the Swedish Rite. Nekton himself helped to translate them not only into Finnish but also into Swedish. The rites have subsequently been revised a number of times (Ahtokari 2004). The Swedish branch of Freemasonry in Finland expanded in 1927 with the setting up of a lodge of the St. Andrew degrees; this later became the Scottish St. Andreas Lodge Phoenix in 1934. In Vasa/Vaasa the Brödraföreningen Korsholm (Brothers’ Society Korsholm) was founded in 1933. It became a lodge only in 1954. In Åbo/Turku a Brothers’ Society for the Craft degrees was set up in 1928; this was promoted to the status of Lodge and named the St. Johannes Lodge St. Henrik in 1931. At its inauguration a cantata, “Templet och Anden” (The Temple and the Spirit), was played; it was written by the composer and conductor Alfred Anderssén (1887–1940) to a text of Jon Hartman (1875–1951). Since then it has been played several times at jubilees. On 9 April 1938, Mikael Agricola day, the Frimurare St. Andreasföreningen Erasmus was founded in Åbo/Turku. At Viborg/Viipuri on the Karelian Isthmus, too, a Brothers’ Society was set up in 1936; two years later it became the St. Johanneslogen Tyrgils (Bergroth 1987, 2006).

Clouds on the Horizon During the 1930s and the War Years in the 1940s

The 1930s were a difficult time for Freemasonry in Finland. Old prejudices were revived in a way that meant a real threat to the organisation. In 1930 mutilated bodies were found at Tattarisuo (Tattarmossen) on the outskirts of

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Helsinki. The people’s imagination ran riot and the mass media linked these killings with Freemasonry, claiming that Freemasons needed body parts for their ceremonies. It was only in 1932 that it became clear that it was the work of four mentally disturbed and religiously high-strung persons, who were subsequently given jail sentences. Nonetheless, the affair cast dark shadows over Freemasonry for a long time to come. The matter was taken up in army officer circles in the spring of 1931, and after considerable discussion the commanderin-chief Hugo Österman in 1943 forbade his subordinates to join masonic lodges. A large number of officers left the organisation at the time. Within the Evangelical-Lutheran Church, too, similar negative attitudes persisted. At the meeting of the synod in Viborg/Viipuri in 1932 there was discussion as to whether it was suitable for the clergy to be Freemasons. A change was proposed in ecclesiastical law whereby membership would be forbidden. At the church assembly of 1933 in Turku the matter was debated on several occasions. The St. Augustine Lodge in Helsinki had sent a letter to the archbishopric, explaining the attitude of Freemasonry towards Christianity and society. The professor of musicology and folklore at the Swedish university Åbo Akademi University, Otto Andersson (1879–1969), spoke up strongly in defence of Freemasonry. However, his plea won limited support since he was himself a Freemason. His pleas, nevertheless, led the assembly to decide not to ban servants of the church from becoming Freemasons. Extreme political movements in the 1930s also allied themselves against Freemasonry. The model for this was taken from Germany, where National Socialism had taken upon itself the task of crushing Freemasonry. Finnish National-Socialist sympathisers constantly brought up the topic of Freemasonry and published literature of a negative kind. In 1939 Paavo Susitaival (earlier Sivén, 1896–1993), lieutenant-general and member of the Finnish Parliament, put a motion to Parliament to ban Freemasonry in Finland. This did not lead to any concrete results, but the trials and tribulations of the 1930s meant that the number of active members in the masonic organisations fell dramatically. Previously they had numbered just under a thousand but now decreased to almost half of that number. When the Winter War with the Soviet Union broke out in the autumn of 1939, there was some discussion as to how Freemasonry should continue its activities. The prime minister at the time, Risto Ryti, later to become the country’s president – himself a Freemason – was of the opinion that Freemasonry should voluntarily relinquish its activities so that a total ban would not come into question. Such a ban, it was held, would be offensive to the parent organisations in Sweden and the United States. In full understanding with the state,

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therefore, both organisations of Freemasons in Finland discontinued their activities at the beginning of 1941. The funds accumulated for the orga­nisations’ pastoral activities were passed over to other charity organisations (Ahtokari 2000).

The Post-War Period

After Finland’s two wars, 1939–40 and 1941–44, Freemasonry began to recover once more. It was not easy to begin with. The organisations had been forced to abandon their meeting places as a result of the wars, many of their belongings had disappeared, and several lodges had no economic resources. As early as 1945, activities were nevertheless started once more in Helsinki by both organisations. Elsewhere in Finland it took somewhat longer before things began to get under way, but by 1950 all the lodges were active again. The following decades constituted a time of prosperity for Finnish Freemasonry. By the end of the 1970s there were seventy-five different lodges within the two organisations in the country (Ahtokari 2000). The 1980s was another time when Freemasonry came into the limelight. The unacknowledged lodge P2 in Italy gave rise to a scandal because of economic irregularities, and these events tarnished the reputation of Freemasonry in most of the Western world, including Finland. Once again Freemasonry became the object of defamation in many countries, including Finland. The negative reports in the mass media were exacerbated in Finland by certain shady financial dealings that became the subject of court proceedings. Serious over-generalisation was common and Freemasonry was held responsible for these improprieties. Furthermore, people complained that the membership lists of the masonic movement were not public. There was discussion of the relationship of the Freemasons’ oath both to the oath of allegiance required of state employees and to the Church and religion in general. The matter was raised once more in Parliament, albeit without any measures being taken. The government noted, very matter-of-factly, that Freemasonry was a normal civic activity that observed the customs and laws of the land. There was nothing to justify any kind of intervention on the part of the state (Ahtokari 2000). The reactions of the mass media led to the Kirkon tutkimuskeskus (Church Research Centre) in Tampere under its then head, Harri Heino, to embark on a study into Freemasons’ conceptions of life and their religious orientation. This led to the publication in 1995 of a book, Mihin vapaamurari uskoo? (What Do Freemasons Believe?). The study was based on questionnaires sent to Freemasons and the author was able to note that Freemasons respect both

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Christian values and social institutions more highly than Finnish men of a similar age in the reference groups (Heino 1986, 1995). All this attention meant that Freemasons reacted in such a way that today the movement is much more open in regard to society than it used to be, and informs the public about its activities, ideals, and aims. All that the movement tries to keep secret are the actual rites of initiation to the different grades; the rationale given for doing this, is that for didactic reasons initiation should be experienced as something new and fresh for the candidate.

The Finnish Masonic Organisations

During the post-war period, the Finnish system developed considerably. Many new lodges working in the first three degrees were founded in different places in the country. Parallel lodges were established in the major cities and towns such as Helsinki, Turku, and Tampere. At the beginning of the Second World War there were only five lodges but now, at the beginning of the twenty-first century, lodges number more than a hundred. When referring to themselves and their system Finnish-speaking Freemasons use the abbreviation “V ja O.M.”, Vapaat ja Oikeutetut Muurarit (Free and Accepted Masons). A characteristic feature of the mainly Finnish-speaking Masons is that the three first degrees – those known as blue or Craft lodges – are supplemented by several independent associated masonic systems. Most of these belong – along English lines – to the York rite. They include Mark Master Masons, Royal Ark Mariner Masons, Royal Arch, Knights Templar, Knights of Malta, Red Cross of Con­stantine, Knights of the Holy Sepulchre, St. John the Evangelist and Royal Order of Scotland. The Scottish Rite with 33 degrees is Christian by nature. A lively research and lecture activity has been pursued over the years. In 1962 the Minerva Lodge No. 27 was founded as a research lodge. It publishes the magazine Acta Minervae. The Finnish name of the Freemasons’ newspaper is Koilliskulma (Northwest Corner). Activities also include a number of circles and clubs. Masonic seminars are organised by Sompala seura (Sompala Society). There are also various foundations for humanitarian activities. The Finnish Grand Lodge was recognised by the United Grand Lodge of England in 1927 and by the Swedish Order of Freemasons in 1948. Visiting rights between the two organisations in Finland have been in existence since then. In step with the establishment of the Finnish-speaking lodges and degrees the right to visit has been regulated in relation to the corresponding degrees in the Swedish system. At the time of writing (2014) members number about 7,000.

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The Swedish System

The chapter lodge (working the highest degrees in the Swedish system) in Finland was revived in 1953 as a so-called Stewards’ lodge. Two decades later it became Provinsiallogen i Finland (Provincial Lodge in Finland). In 1983 it took on a more independent role and was named Stor Capitlet i Finland (Grand Chapter of Finland). It is domiciled in Helsinki, where it has a meeting house of its own. The house was built over the years and today comprises several different rooms and floors; it also has a masonic museum. For many years, the Grand Chapter of Finland accepted as members all (in accordance with the Swedish Rite) Freemasons living in Finland. But in 2003 Stewardslogen Öster­ botten (Stewards’ Lodge in Ostrobothnia), which confers degrees VII–VIII, was opened for members in Northern Finland. In Helsinki there is also the Skottiska S:t Andreas logen Phoenix (Scottish St. Andrew’s Lodge Phoenix). For a number of years it was the only lodge for St. Andrew degrees in Finland. Consequently, members from the Åland Islands, Turku, and Ostrobothnia had to be admitted there. However, in 2003 the S:t Andreas loge Henrik Tavast (St. Andrew’s Lodge Henrik Tavast), which also confers the St. Andrew degrees, was set up in Jakobsstad/Pietarsaari. As brother organisations it has Erasmus (degrees IV-IX) in Åbo/Turku, Morgonstjärnan (Morning Star) (degrees IV–X) in Mariehamn (since 1975), and Hans Henrik Boije (2011, degrees I–III) in Tammerfors/Tampere. In recent years, two new Craft lodges have been set up, Tyrgils in 2001 in Borgå/Porvoo and Axel Gabriel Leijonhufvud in 2005 in Ekenäs/Tammisaari. The older Craft lodges are S:t Augustin in Helsingfors/Helsinki, S:t Henrik (1931) in Åbo/Turku, Korsholm (1954) in Vasa/Vaasa, Ledstjärnan (1968) in Mariehamn, and S:t Peder (1980) in Jakobstad/Pietarsaari. In addition to this, there are four masonic clubs, Triangeln (1988) in Närpes/Närpiö, Gamla-Carleby (1988) in Karleby/Kokkola, and Symbolen (1989) in Esbo-Grankulla/Espoo-Kauniainen. Seminar activities are arranged on a regular basis, often linked to special degrees and alternating between the different towns where there are lodges. Cooperation with the Finnish system is close and also with Freemasons in the other Nordic countries, especially with Sweden, of whose system the Swedishspeaking Masons in Finland form an integrated part. The magazine Frimuraren (The Freemason), which has been published in Sweden since 1928, is sent to all active Swedish-speaking Masons in Finland. Moreover, the Swedish Masons in Finland have their own magazine, Föreningsbandet (Bond of Union), which was begun in 1993. Today (2014) the Swedish-speaking Masons number just over 1,300 (Matrikel LXVIII).

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Female Freemasons

The two masonic systems in Finland are open only to men. Female Freemasonry exists but to a more limited extent. The Swedish-speaking Order of Female Freemasons in Finland was founded in 1946 in Helsinki. Its rites follow those of the Swedish Rite, but were drawn up without the official approval of the Swedish Order of Freemasons. There is therefore no cooperation between the Swedish system and the Order of Female Freemasons. At the moment it has about fifty active members.

Unpublished Sources

Copies of histories of the lodge S:t Henrik N:r 5 40 years, 1969–1978, 1978–1988, 1989–1998.



Published Sources

Matrikel över Svenska frimurareorden i Finland. Stor Capitlet i Finland. Arbetsåret 2013–2014, LXVIII.



References

Ahtokari, Reijo, Muinainen ja oikeutettu. Suomen Muinaisen ja Oikeutetun Riitin Korkein Neuvosto, 33°, 1973–1998, [Helsinki]: Suomen R.C. yhdistys, 1998. ——— . Salat ja valat, Vapaamuurarit suomalaisessa yhteiskunnassa ja julkisuudessa 1756–1996, Helsinki: Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura, 2000. ——— . “Suomalaiset vapaamuurarirituaalit”, in: Reijo Ahtokari & Eero Ekman (eds.), Näkymättömän temppelin rakentajat, Helsinki, 2004, 257–265. Ahtokari, Reijo and Eero Ekman (eds.), Näkymättömän temppelin rakentajat, Suoma­ laisen vapaamuurariuden historia, Helsinki: Otava, 2004. Bergroth, Tom C., (ed.), Kultaa ja taivaansinistä. Vapaamuurarius, aate ajassa. Turun maakuntamuseo, näyttelyluettelo 15 / I guld och himmelsblått. Frimureri, ett ideal i tiden, Turku/Åbo: Åbo landskapsmuseum, utställningskatalog 15, 1991. ——— . Frimurare S:t Andreasföreningen Erasmus 1938–1988, Turku: Brödraföreningen Erasmus i Åbo, 1987. ——— . Med det himmelska ljuset som ledare. S:t Johannes Logen S:t Henrik i Åbo 1931– 2006, Åbo: Föreningen S:t Henriks skriftserie Nr 3, 2006.

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Ekman, Eero, L., Phoenix loosi No 3:n 75-vuotisjuhlakirja. Phoenix loosin 75-vuotta 1923– 1998, Ruotsin vapaamuurariuden historia “kuninkaallista taidetta” vuodesta 1735 nykypäivään, [Turku: Turun Sanomat], 1997. Gräsbeck, Armas, S:t Johannes logen S:t Augustins matrikel 1762–1808, Helsingfors, 1954. Heino, Harri, Vapaamuurarius ja kristinusko. Suomalaisen vapaamuurariliikkeen uskonnollisuuden ja etiikan tarkastelua. Pieksämäki: Kirkon tutkimuskeskus, Sarja A N:o 65, 1986. ——— . Mihin vapaamuurari uskoo? Suomalaisten vapaamuurarien arvot, etiikka ja uskonnollisuus. Tampere: Kirkon tutkimuskeskus, sarja A Nro 65, 1995. Huovinen, Kalevi, Kuusikymmentä vuotta 1930–1990 merkkimestarimuurariutta Suomessa, [Oulu: Ultima Thule,] 1990. Kirjoituksia vapaamuurariudesta, [Helsinki:] Koilliskulma OY, 1990. Kirk MacNulty W., Vapaamuurarit. Symbolit, salaisuudet, merkitys, Helsinki: Tammi, 2007. Nyberg, Folke, S:t Johannes Logen S:t Augustin 1756–2006, [Helsingfors: 2005]. Stenius, Henrik, Frivilligt jämlikt samfällt: föreningsväsendets utveckling i Finland fram till 1900-talets början med speciell hänsyn till massorganisationsprincipens genombrott, Helsingfors: Svenska litteratursällskapet, 1987.

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Chapter 21

Chapter 21 Freemasonry in Norway

Freemasonry in Norway Andreas Önnerfors During the time period when Freemasonry was introduced, Norway was part of the Danish realm, a conglomerate state made up of a large variety of territories, from Greenland and Iceland to the North, to the Danish isles and Jutland, including possessions in the old German empire. It is crucial to bear this multicultural background in mind when analyzing the history of Freemasonry in the various parts of the Danish realm. In 1814 Norway entered into a political union with Sweden, a union that was dissolved in 1905, when Norway became an independent nation state. The development of Freemasonry in Denmark and Sweden are treated in separate chapters in this volume. Freemasonry in Norway developed in three different phases: 1749–1818: affiliation to the Danish masonic bodies; 1818–1890: as part of the Swedish Order of Freemasons; 1891 to the present (interrupted 1940–1945 by the Nazi occupation): forming the Norwegian Order of Freemasons. It is worth mentioning that lodges were established during the late nineteenth century with a German warrant, despite the asserted Swedish supremacy of constitution. The split between Swedish/Norwegian and German/Norwegian masonic jurisdiction lasted until 1960. Whereas the Norwegian Order of Free­ masons has a distinctly Christian character, the lodges warranted from Germany defined themselves as part of the deist and religiously tolerant tradition based upon the English constitutions of Freemasonry of 1723. In the years from 1940 to 1945, the Norwegian masonic bodies suffered considerably from persecution under the Nazi occupation, not least by quislings. The Norwegian Order of Freemasons has about 19,000 members and has recently (as of late 2014) featured extensively in media (see below).

The Danish Period

Norwegians were Danish subjects and had been initiated into lodges in Denmark and abroad before a lodge was officially established on Norwegian territory in 1749 – the second oldest lodge establishment in Scandinavia. With a patent from its mother lodge, St. Martin in Copenhagen, the lodge St. Olaus

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_023

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was consecrated close to or in Christiania (the old name of the Norwegian capital, now Oslo) on St. Hans Day (midsummer) and named after Olav, the patron saint of Norway. Most evidence suggests that the Danish king, Frederik V, attended the foundation of the lodge during a visit to the Norwegian part of the realm. The lodge St. Martin had close relations to the earliest German lodges in Hamburg (Absalon) and Berlin (Aux troix Globes), and hence it makes sense to place St. Olaus in the same tradition. A Danish-Norwegian provincial Grand lodge was founded with English constitution in the same year of 1749. Unfortunately, no lodge records are preserved that could cast a light on this very early organisation of lodges in the Danish realm. No lodge minutes from St. Olaus earlier than 1757 have been preserved. The first records of this year speak of the assembled Freemasons as “restauratores”, a term from which we can conclude that the lodge was dormant for a couple of years after its establishment. Kristiania had close economic ties to the British Isles, English was as common here as German was in Copenhagen. Freemasonry was identified with a typically British way of organised sociability. A British merchant living in London was initiated into the lodge, as were other foreigners. A number of brethren from abroad, mainly of maritime professions, visited the lodge over the years. St. Olaus adopted the custom of giving its members certain coded names to be used within the lodge. One of the brethren meeting in 1757 called himself in English “The Freethinker”. The close links to Britain led to the establishment in Oslo of a Royal-Arch Chapter constituted from London and working in higher degrees of Freemasonry. Contrary to the lodges in Copenhagen, St. Olaus seems to have worked completely in the vernacular language. The lodge seems to have been inactive during the years 1764–1772, 1773–1780, and 1792–1810. When the lodge opened again in the 1780s, the dynamic development of Freemasonry on the continent and Scandinavia soon influenced its workings. The Danish lodges now belonged to the VIIth province of the masonic system Strict Observance and the lodge in Kristiania was integrated into the Danish organisation of lodges (see the chapter Freemasonry in Denmark for more information). Carl of Hesse-Kassel now acted as Provincial Grand Master of the Danish lodges and incorporated the Norwegian lodge into his jurisdiction. With the issuing of the warrant, the name of the lodge was changed to St. Olaus til den hvide Leopard, “To the White Leopard”, a name that remains in use up to the present day and that has been associated with the process of “Albedo” (“whitening”) in alchemy. Over the ensuing years, recruitment figures increased. In 1786, a building for masonic purposes was purchased. A central figure during this lively period of Norwegian Freemasonry is Bernt Anker (1746–1805), head of the Anker trading

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firm. Lodges were also established in Trondheim and in Bergen, but little is known about their activities.

The Introduction of the Swedish Rite

After the establishment of the Union between Sweden and Norway in 1814, confirmed by the treatises of the Vienna Congress in 1815, Freemasonry in Norway went through a period of revitalisation. Many new members were recruited and academics such as professor of philosophy Niels Treschow (1751– 1833) joined the lodge. Treschow was a key figure in establishing the University of Oslo and served several periods as minister of the Norwegian government under Swedish rule. Due to Norway’s changing political status, the affiliation of Norwegian Freemasonry also became a topic of discussion, and various scenarios were envisaged: should one remain under Danish supremacy, join the Swedish Order of Freemasons, or create an independent Norwegian masonic body? In 1819 the union between Norwegian and Swedish Freemasonry was finally completed and the Swedish Rite was introduced. In 1841 a St. Andrew’s lodge was established, followed in 1857 by a Stewards’ lodge (transformed in 1870 into a provincial lodge), working in higher degrees. In the 1870s the lodges in Oslo counted more than 500 members. New lodges were established in the capital and in provincial towns throughout the country.

The Establishment of the Norwegian Grand Lodge and Internal Splits

Norwegian Masons, backed up by the German Grand lodge Zur Sonne in Bayreuth, challenged the Swedish monopoly of constituting lodges on Norwegian territory (the so-called “Sprengelrecht”, delimiting such right to one’s own “parish” boundaries). In 1881 a lodge with German constitution was founded in Trondheim, followed by four other establishments throughout the country. In 1893 three lodges formed a provincial grand lodge and in 1920 acquired the status of an independent Grand lodge. The Swedish Order of Freemasons gave up its right of territorial jurisdiction in 1898. Already seven years earlier, in 1891, the Norwegian Grand lodge was established (as the Xth province of the order), acquiring independence from Sweden after the dissolution of the Union in 1905.

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Freemasonry During the Nazi Occupation and Thereafter

After the occupation of Norway, the Norwegian Order of Freemasons was dissolved in the autumn of 1940 and its belongings seized, many members were persecuted both because of their masonic affiliation and their involvement in the resistance movement. The headquarters of the order were used by the Nazi occupation forces. Plundered material belongings of Norwegian Freemasonry have since the 1990s been partially rediscovered in Poznan (Poland) and in Moscow and negotiations about their restitution have been carried out. After the war, the devastated headquarters of the Order had to be refurbished for a considerable sum of money. Norwegian Freemasonry also had to grapple with the painful question of how to deal with members who had collaborated with the Nazis. In the post-war period, membership has continued to grow, new lodges have been established, and currently there are sixty-three lodges in the craft degrees (I–III), nineteen lodges working in the so-called Scottish degrees (degrees IV-VI), four provincial chapter lodges (degrees VII–X), and numerous smaller local units, counting around 19,000 members altogether.

The Debate on Freemasonry in Contemporary Norway

An exposure of Swedish Rite rituals was published by the Norwegian theologian Sverre Dag Mogstad in 1994. Throughout Scandinavia this exposure sparked considerable attention in the press. Mogstad criticises Freemasonry for its secrecy, and following a Pietist/evangelist standpoint, he questions the fact that the Swedish Rite potentially hides knowledge about the Christian religion and consequently challenges the biblical call to “give light to everyone” and to extend salvation to “all”, not exclusively to an esoteric elite (based on biblical references like Matthew 5:15–17, 10:27; Mark 16:15; 1 Timothy 2:4; John 18:20). Thus, Mogstad aligns himself with a line of arguments dating back to the religiously motivated attacks on Freemasonry of the eighteenth century. A second Norwegian exposure was published in 2009, this time from an insider who had left the Order. Roger Karsten Aase gives an autobiographical account of the inner life of Freemasonry in Trondheim and his personal walk through the degree system of the Swedish Rite. In his book, Aase describes a tension between ideology and reality, the elaborate rituals of the Swedish Rite and the realities of life in a Norwegian provincial town, where personal matters and petty crime ensnare the members in more and more sect-like conditions, leading to advanced bullying among adults.

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On 22 July 2011 the worst mass killings in modern Scandinavian history were committed in Oslo and on the island of Utøya. On the evening of the double terrorist attack that left 77 people (most of them youngsters) dead, the identity of perpetrator Anders Behring Breivik was released, together with information regarding his masonic affiliation. In an appendix to his counter-jihadist “manifesto”, Breivik had inserted images of himself in his fake “European Knights Templar” uniforms and dressed as a Master Mason. Norwegian Freemasonry immediately distanced itself from Breivik and expelled him from the Order, with reference to the incompatibility of the committed crimes with masonic values. Furthermore, it was declared that Breivik had not been a particularly active member. Despite of this, Breivik’s masonic affiliation has given rise to massive speculations. In his “manifesto”, Breivik praises (Norwegian) Freemasonry for being a conservative Christian and pro-Zionist force and thus occupying an important place within the general “counter-jihadist” political ideology and struggle. Breivik’s links to Freemasonry and his thoughts about its role according to his idiosyncratic world view, fuelled the imagination of the conspiracist web community. Furthermore, the renowned Norwegian professor of peace studies, Johan Galtung, picked up the thread and lent it the power of academic authority in developing it further in one of his “Ten theses on July 22” (declared in September 2011). Galtung claims that Breivik’s obsession with the Knights Templar and Freemasonry points at potential links with secret services and makes sense within his Judeo-Christian and anti-Muslim worldview. Galtung has repeatedly returned to this explanation and has to the massive consternation of the scholarly community entrenched himself in support of the infamous forgery “Protocols of the Elders of Zion”, in which Freemasonry is portrayed as a Jewish manipulation. Galtung suggests, based on these assumptions prominent in Nazi, white supremacy, and Arab conspiracy theories, that Breivik might have acted on behalf of the Israeli secret service Mossad. The Norwegian exposures as well as the debate in the aftermath of the July 22 terrorist attacks prove that Freemasonry remains a contested issue in Norwe­gian society of today.

References

Aase, Roger Karsten, Frimurernes hemmeligheter. Fortalt fra innsiden, Oslo: Kagge, 2009. Bugge, Karl Ludwig, St. Johannes-logen St. Olaus til den hvide Leopard, Kristiania: Bjørn­ stad, 1907. ——— . Det danske frimureriets historie indtill aar 1855, Copenhagen: Rom, 1927. Færseth, John, “Galtung leker med ilden”, Humanist, 4 (2011), 22–33.

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Galtung, Johan, “Ti teser om 22. Juli”, Morgenbladet, 7 October 2011. Mogstad, Sverre Dag, Frimureri. Mysterier, Felleskap, Personlighetsdannelse, Oslo: Univer­ sitetsforlaget, 1995 . Önnerfors, Andreas, “Leaderless Counter-Jihad? The Absence of Ideological Leaders in the Contemporary European Far-Right”, in: Matthew Feldman and John Pollard (eds.), special issue “Key themes in European Fascism, past and present”, Patterns of Prejudice (forthcoming). Stephensen, Kaare J.E.  (ed.), Under St. Olai merke: St. Olaus til den hvide Leopard 1749– 1799, Oslo: St. Olaus, 1999.

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Chapter 22 Freemasonry in Sweden

Freemasonry in Sweden Henrik Bogdan

The French Period

Freemasonry arrived in Sweden as early as 1735, when the lieutenant Axel Wrede Sparre opened a so-called private lodge on Riddarholmen in Stockholm. Like many other young Swedish aristocrats during this period, Wrede Sparre had been initiated into Freemasonry abroad – in Wrede Sparre’s case he had been initiated into a French-Jacobite lodge in Paris at the age of 23, in 1731. It was also in Paris that the future first Swedish National Grand Master, Carl Fredrick Scheffer, was initiated in 1737, and Scheffer would in November of that year receive a charter from Charles Radclyffe, Earl of Derwentwater, to open one or more lodges in Sweden under French obedience. In addition to this charter, Radclyffe provided a set of Règles générales (Sw. Allmänna frimurar­ lagar), which regulated the work in Sweden. The 1740s marked a chaotic period in Swedish Freemasonry, with several different lodges competing for recognition, often either founded by foreign masons in Sweden (such as General Keith’s lodge 1743–44, and the Lodge of Kilwinning [Sw. Kilwinningska logen], set up temporarily in Ystad in 1746 by officers from the army of Charles Edward Stuart), or by Swedish Masons who had been initiated abroad. In 1752 Knut Posse founded the lodge S:t Jean Auxiliaire at Stockholm, which is usually credited as the first regularly constituted lodge in Sweden (with a charter from count Clermont-Tonnerre), and in 1753 Wrede Sparre, who had opened the first lodge in Sweden, would join the lodge and turn over his charter from Radclyffe. S:t Jean Auxiliaire became known as the Mother Lodge and was the most dominant lodge in Sweden during the 1750s, and it was through this lodge that much of the work in Sweden was organised and regulated. Carl Fredrick Scheffer also affiliated with the lodge, and in 1753 he was elected the first National Grand Master (Sw. ­landsstormästare), while the Swedish king Adolf Fredrik a few months later became the royal protector of Freemasonry (Sw. övermästarskap över alla frimurarsamhällen i landet). Free­masonry would from then on enjoy royal patronage in Sweden. It was also during this period that an increasing number of high degrees were introduced from abroad. These were in 1759 regulated by the ­creation of a national ruling body, the so-called Swedish Grand Chapter

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_024

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(Sw. Svenska storkapitlet), with the influential Mason Carl Friedrich Eckleff as its first Grand Master. Eckleff played a key role in introducing the high degrees that later would be used by Duke Charles when creating the Swedish Rite. The so-called Acts of Eckleff consisted of S:t Andrew’s or Ecossais degrees which Eckleff allegedly had received from Strasbourg in 1756, and Chapter or Templar degrees received from Geneva in 1759. During the 1760s the nascent Swedish Rite consisted of nine degrees in total: three Craft degrees, three St. Andrew’s degrees, and three Chapter or Templar degrees. These degrees would be revised a number of times, and eventually a uniform system was created, in which each degree was connected to each previous degree in a systematic and pedagogical way. In particular, it was Duke Charles, later King Charles XIII, who together with fellow Freemasons such as Reuterholm, was responsible for creating the Swedish Rite and giving it the form and content that it maintains to this day. The remainder of this chapter will thus focus on Duke Charles, the creator of the Swedish Rite, and his friend Reuterholm, the latter being an illustrative example how esotericism and Freemasonry often were interpreted as being inseparable during the eighteenth century.

Duke Charles and Creation of the Swedish Rite

Duke Charles (1748–1818), later King Charles XIII, of Sweden from 1809 and King of Norway from 1814 until his death, became a Freemason together with his two brothers Gustavus and Duke Fredrik Adolphus in 1771 through the Craft lodge The Swedish Army’s Lodge (Sw. Svenska arméens loge), and two years later, on 4 May 1773, Charles was initiated into the Grand Chapter, in which he chose the knightly name Eques A Sole Vivificante. Charles became a dedicated Freemason for the rest of his life, and he was instrumental in shaping the Swedish Rite which is still being worked in Scandinavia and parts of Germany. On 8 April 1774, Charles founded a Scottish (St. Andrew’s) lodge that met until 1777 in his private rooms at the royal palace in Stockholm. The lodge was called The Scottish Lodge of Duke Charles of Södermanland and later changed its name to The Blazing Star (Sw. Glindrande Stjärnan) (Thustrup 1892: 75). In the same year Duke Charles became the head of Swedish Freemasonry: on 14 May 1774 he succeeded Carl Friedrich Eckleff as head of the Saint Andrew’s lodges in Sweden (Sw. ordensmästare); on 7 June he succeeded Eckleff as head of the Grand Chapter (Sw. storkapitlets styresman); and finally 30 November he succeeded Count Carl Fredrik Scheffer as Master of the Grand Lodge (Sw. ordförande i landslogen). The latter body consisted of all Worshipful Masters,

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Past Worshipful Masters, Senior and Junior Wardens, and Past Senior and Junior Wardens of the Swedish Craft lodges. Up until that time the lodges in Sweden had to a large extent been working independently of the ruling bodies, which accounted for the fact that there were many local variations in both form and content of the rituals used by the lodges. Duke Charles took it upon himself to standardise Swedish Freemasonry, and his first action was to send out a demand to all the lodges that they should send copies of their charters and list of members. Swedish Freemasonry derived to a large extent from France, and this was not only reflected in the rituals (which were often performed in French) but also in the organisational structure and emphasis on high degrees. Duke Charles, however, increasingly turned his attention towards English Freemasonry for inspiration in reorganising Freemasonry in Sweden. English laws and regulations were translated into Swedish, and on 9 December 1775 Charles founded the first Swedish Stewards’ Lodge in emulation of English practice (Thustrup 1898: 1–5). In 1777 Charles continued his effort to strengthen and regulate Swedish Freemasonry by creating a financial trust and by beginning to implement standardised rituals based on the so-called Acts of Eckleff. Charles realised the disadvantages of having three separate masonic bodies and one of his main preoccupations was to transform the Craft, Scottish, and Chapter degrees into one coherent and continuous system. The initiatory system of the Swedish System or Rite, as it later became known, leads from the moral and religious basis of the Old Testament to that of the New Testament. Charles’ work with reorganising the initiatory system of Swedish Freemasonry was completed around 1801, and in its final form it consisted of nine degrees: the three Craft degrees (St John’s lodges), three Scottish degrees (St Andrew’s lodges), and three Templar degrees (Chapters), above these degrees Charles implemented a supreme degree with a limited number of members, the Knight Commander of the Red Cross. Later a tenth degree was added to the Swedish System, a system that is still being practised in Scandinavia and parts of Germany (Bogdan 2007: 99–100).

The Esoteric Circle at the Royal Court

Duke Charles placed special importance on the chapter degrees that to a large extent were based on Christian esotericism veiled in Templar symbolism, and emphasised that these degrees should be kept secret from the members of lower degrees. Most of the members that were admitted to the chapter degrees belonged to the Swedish aristocracy, a fact that can be explained as an attempt to maintain aristocratic control over Freemasonry at a time when the social

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structure of Swedish society was changing rapidly and the bourgeoisie increasingly entered the echelons of Swedish society. The emphasis on Christian esotericism in the Chapter degrees was reflected in Duke Charles’ personal interest in various aspects of Western esotericism, such as alchemy, Kabbalah and ceremonial magic. By the early 1780s Duke Charles had gathered around him a small circle of esotericists, including persons such as Gustaf Adolf Reuterholm (1756–1813), Johan Gabriel Oxenstierna (1750–1818), Adolf Fredrik Falkenberg af Trystorp (1745–1802), Carl Björnberg (1735–1790), and at a later stage Carl Adolf Boheman (1764–1831) (Lamm 1920: 18–39; Lekeby 2010). This group functioned to a certain extent as an inner and highly secret elite within Swedish Freemasonry. This can be ascertained from the fact that many of the members of this small circle received the highest degrees of Freemasonry directly from Duke Charles himself in his private sanctuary at the Royal Palace, without having to go through the preliminary St. John and St. Andrew’s degrees. Perhaps the most prominent figure in this secret cabal was the shadowy Gustaf Björnram (1743–1801), a self-styled adept of the arcane sciences who was received into the Chapter on 26 February 1779. The form of magic that Björnram performed was chiefly concerned with communicating with beings on other planes, such as angels and spirits, and the modus operandi resembles that of the spiritualism of the nineteenth century (Dahlgren 1925: 167–193).

Duke Charles and the Strict Observance

One of these esotericists, Carl Anders Plommenfelt (1750-?) came to play a key role in the affairs of Swedish Freemasonry during the second half of the 1770s. Plommenfelt approached Charles in 1776 after an extended visit abroad and claimed to be in contact with certain unknown leaders of Freemasonry that allegedly lived in Italy. Furthermore, Plommenfelt stated that he had met with leading members of the Strict Observance while in Germany, and that they wanted to establish contacts with Swedish Freemasonry. When Karl Gotthelf von Hund died on 28 October 1776, Charles entered in negotiations through Plommenfelt with Ferdinand of Braunschweig (1721–1792) about succeeding von Hund as leader of the VIIth Province of Freemasonry and Deputy Grand Master of the Strict Observance. The negotiations lasted for almost two years and on 17 August 1778 Duke Charles was elected as Grand Master of the VIIth Province at the Convent in Wolfenbüttel and an Act of Union was signed between Swedish Freemasonry and the Strict Observance. On 11 December 1779 Duke Charles was formally installed as Grand Master, with A.G. Leijonhufvud acting as his deputy at the event (Thustrup 1898: 24–50).

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In order to devote himself to the new position, Duke Charles had resigned as Master of the Swedish Grand Lodge, and on 22 March 1779 his brother Duke Fredrik Adolphus assumed the office. By virtue of his new office as Grand Master of the VIIth Province and authority as Magnus Visitator generalis ordinis, Duke Charles decided to “re-instate” the IXth Province, which included Sweden, Finland, and Russia, and he installed himself as Grand Master of this newly created province on 15 March 1780. However, the members of the VIIth Province, with Ferdinand of Braunschweig as acting magnus superior of the Strict Observance, took exception to the decision and argued that all the provinces should have been involved in the decision, and furthermore, that Duke Charles would receive too much authority over Freemasonry as Grand Master of both the VIIth and the IXth Provinces (Thustrup 1898: 61–79). The ensuing correspondence between Duke Charles and leading members of the VIIth Province came to its head on 10 April 1781, when Charles signed an Act of Abdication as Grand Master of the VIIth Province, and furthermore broke all formal contacts with the said Province. One of the main points of critique levelled against Charles by members of the VIIth Province had been that they had not received any deeper knowledge of the Order, nor had he revealed the identity of the true Grand Master of the Order, which they claimed he had promised to do. Duke Charles stated, however, that it is only the true Grand Master himself who can decide when, and under what circumstances, the Grand Master’s true identity can be disclosed and one of Freemasonry’s most important secrets can be revealed. In the Act of Abdication it was emphasised that the Swedish Grand Chapter had received its charter from a Clerical Chapter that was not located in Germany, and that Duke Charles did not recognise the authority of any other than the Grand Master and the true superiors, whose identity he maintained that he knew (Thustrup 1898: 80–95). Duke Charles’ vision of extending Swedish Freemasonry was at this time also directed towards Russia, where lodges working according to the Swedish Rite had been established as early as 1771. On 10 April 1778 a Provincial Chapter was chartered in Saint Petersburg and for a few years various attempts were made to spread Swedish Freemasonry throughout Russia, but this came to an end in 1782, when Russian Freemasonry, characterised by internal strife and conflict at this time, formally ended the contacts with Swedish Freemasonry. Although Duke Charles continued to take an active interest in Freemasonry, his attention was increasingly directed towards political matters, first by the Russo-Swedish War of 1788–90 and then by Charles acting as regent of Sweden 1792–96. After the regency, however, Charles resumed his active involvement with Swedish Freemasonry and set out to complete the work of revising the rituals and the constitution, and to create new administrative offices and bodies.

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In 1798–99 Charles spent fifteen months on the continent, particularly in Prague and Vienna, where he found additional material that he used for revising the rituals, a work which was completed around 1801. A new constitution (Sw. Ordens allmänna lagar) was adopted in 1800, and the Grand Officers of the National Grand Lodge of Sweden (Knight Commanders of the Red Cross) were established in the same year. On 27 May 1811, King Charles instituted the Royal Order of King Charles XIII, a royal order which can only be conferred upon Freemasons. The order was originally restricted to only thirty knights, but was increased by three vacancies in 1858. It remains the only official State Order that can only be awarded to members of an exclusive assembly in Sweden (Bergroth 2002).

Gustaf Adolf Reuterholm

Duke Charles surrounded himself with several esoterically-minded Masons over the years, but it was in particular his close friend and collaborator Gustaf Adolf Reuterholm who came to influence Charles’ understanding of Free­ masonry, especially through Reuterholm’s contacts with esoteric forms of Freemasonry abroad. Reuterholm was born in 1756 in Finland, which at that time was part of Sweden. His father, Esbjörn Christian Reuterholm (1710–1773), had since 1766 been a councillor of the state and a firm supporter of the socalled cap party. After the revolution in 1771, his father was arrested and placed in prison, where he became ill and subsequently died. Reuterholm would later blame the Swedish king, Gustavus III (1746–1792, reigned from 1771), for his father’s death and became a firm opponent of the king. His mother Maria Gyllenstierna seems to have been a charismatic woman and, according to Reuterholm, there was a long tradition of mystical visionaries in the Gyllen­ stierna family (Forsstrand 1925: 17). After studies at Uppsala University, the young Reuterholm journeyed to St. Petersburg in order to broaden his mind and learn the ways of life. Upon his return to Sweden, he was appointed gentleman groom to Gustavus III. It might appear surprising that Reuterholm accepted this appointment, given the fact that he detested the king, but at the same time this proved to be an important step forward in his career, since it gave him the opportunity to move in the highest circles of Swedish society. One year later, he was appointed chamberlain to Queen Sofia Magdalena (1746–1813), and it was now that he befriended Duke Charles of Sudermania (1748–1818), who in 1809 would become King Charles XIII (SBL, Vol. 30: 43). Reuterholm and Duke Charles shared a common interest in esoteric matters, such as ritual magic, alchemy, and Kabbalah and

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they soon became inseparable. It was, however, through the bonds of Free­ masonry that the two esotericists cemented their friendship. In 1782 Duke Charles received Reuterholm as a Freemason. The latter subsequently rose quickly through the degrees and the masonic hierarchy. It is often claimed that Duke Charles was an insecure and weak person, and that his interest in esotericism was a sign of his gullibility and lack of judgement. Reuterholm, on the other hand, has been accused of using the duke’s weaknesses to his own advantage and by means of his position as Duke Charles’ spiritual advisor to meddle in political affairs (SBL, Vol. 30: 44). Four years after becoming a Mason Reuterholm entered the political scene in earnest, but due to Gustavus III’s suspicion of his political orientation he was outmanoeuvred, and subsequently, in 1789, he departed on a year-long journey that took him through Germany, France, and Italy. Upon his return in 1790, he was openly accused by Gustavus III of having fraternised with French revolutionaries and dangerous secret societies on his journey, and he lost his royal pension of 1,000 riksdaler which had been granted to him in 1789. Disheartened, Reuterholm decided to leave Sweden for another year. While in Rome, the news reached him of Gustavus III’s assassination, and Duke Charles urged him to return to Sweden to help him in this hour of chaos. Since Gustavus IV Adolphus (1778–1837, King of Sweden 1792–1809), the heir, was too young to become king, Duke Charles became the ruler of the regency. The period from 1792 to 1796 marked the high-water mark of Reuterholm’s political career: Duke Charles appointed him to a number of important positions – positions that Reuterholm was quick to use. In his first year in power, Reuterholm tried to run a liberal political line, his most important endeavour being to enforce a law that ensured the freedom of the press. At the same time, he played an active part in straightening out the national finances, and he created a secret police whose primary object was to keep an eye on Sweden’s main enemy at the time, Russia. After the execution of Louis XVI (1754–1793) and the subsequent waves of shock and fear that swept across Europe in royal and aristocratic circles, Reuterholm adopted a more conservative and restrictive policy and, among other measures, imposed limitations on the freedom of press that he had granted just one year earlier. Opposition to Duke Charles and Reuterholm became fiercer, especially among adherents of the assassinated Gustavus III, and Reuterholm became the symbol of the regency and the main target of criticism (SBL, Vol. 30: 45–46). On 1 November 1796, Gustavus IV Adolphus assumed the office of King of Sweden and one of his first actions was to have Reuterholm thrown out of Sweden. Reuterholm, who had anticipated that his fortunes would turn as soon as Gustavus IV Adolphus assumed power, had already resigned from his position, and he quickly left Sweden (SBL, Vol. 30: 46–47).

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After an unsuccessful attempt to return to Sweden in 1800, Reuterholm was forced to live in exile as a restless wanderer, the only permanent place to which he could occasionally return being to his masonic brother Charles of Hesse-Cassel in Schlesvig. During his exile, Reuterholm adopted the name Tempelcreutz, probably a reference to his belief that he was a modern Knight Templar, and perhaps, an allusion to Christian Rosencreutz, the mythical founder of the Fraternity of the Rosy Cross. In 1809 Duke Charles finally became king of Sweden, taking the name King Charles XIII. The now fifty-three year old Reuterholm returned to Sweden but – as a final humiliation – the king, his former friend and brother, refused to see him. Reuterholm, defeated and rejected, returned to Schleswig-Friedrichsberg where he died on 27 December 1813.

Reuterholm and Freemasonry

If Reuterholm’s political career is well documented, his early masonic career is shrouded in mystery. In the lists of members of the Swedish Grand Lodge it is stated that Reuterholm received the Chapter degrees on the following dates: on 12 February 1782 he became a Confidant Brother of the Stewards’ Lodge (Sw. Stewardslogens Förtrogne Broder); on 10 February 1783 a Confidant Brother of St. John’s Lodge (Sw. S:t Johanneslogens Förtrogne Broder); on the following day, 11 February 1783 a Confidant Brother of St. Andrew’s Lodge (Sw. S:t Andreaslogens Förtrogne Broder); and finally, on 22 March 1784 he received the high dignity of the Ruby Cross. However, according to a manuscript in Reuterholm’s handwriting, he was admitted, together with fellow magician Carl Göran Bonde (1757–1840), to the higher degrees of Freemasonry on 6 April 1782 by Duke Charles himself in a private sanctuary at the Royal Palace in Stockholm (ms. 121.25). In another important manuscript written by Reuterholm, Samling af Maçonnique händelser (ms. 121.45), it is stated again that he was received as a Freemason by the duke on that date. As we do not have information about what degrees Reuterholm actually received on 6 April 1782, it is difficult to speculate on what actually took place. One possibility, albeit a highly unlikely one, could be that he received the Chapter degrees twice: once privately by Duke Charles at the Palace, and then officially at the lodge building of the Swedish Grand Chapter at Rosenhaneska Palatset on the island of Riddarholmen in Stockholm. Another possibility might be that the initiations performed at the Royal Palace were only communicated verbally, and that Reuterholm therefore had to go through the degrees ritually on other occasions. Be that as it may, the fact that Reuterholm was received by Duke Charles himself, the then head of the Order of Freemasons in Sweden, testifies

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to the close ties between them, ties that became further cemented through the oaths of fraternity. Reuterholm not only rose extremely quickly through the degree system of the order, he also became one of the most important and leading masons in Sweden of his time. In a small publication by Reuterholm, published in 1787, he listed the masonic offices that he held at the time: Marshall of the 9th Province, Grand Guardian of the Order Archives, and Heraldicus Magnus of the Grand Chapter (Sw. 9:e Provinsens Marskalk, Storgardien av Ordens Arkiv, Storkapitlets Heraldicus Magnus). These offices show that Reuterholm was deeply involved in the running of the Order in Sweden. The first office, Marshall of the 9th Province, in practice meant that he was Duke Charles’ right-hand man in the Order and that he was responsible, among other things, for carrying out the decrees and edicts of the Grand Master. The second office, that of Grand Guar­ dian of the Order Archives, was a newly constituted position, and Reuterholm was thus the first archivist of the Swedish Order of Freemasonry. Reuterholm’s private interest in collecting books and rare manuscripts was thus reflected in his efforts as the Order archivist, and through his endeavours in this field the foundation was laid for one of the most impressive masonic collections in Europe. The third office, Heraldicus Magnus of the Grand Chapter, was ­concerned with the heraldic aspects of the highest, Templar, degrees of the Swedish Rite. The chapter degrees included ritual knighting of the candidates, marked by the giving of a Templar ring and by the candidate assuming the name of a knight – in Reuterholm’s case, he chose the name Eques De Sanguine Puro (he would later include et Frater Professus in the name). Reuterholm never states what the pure blood refers to, but it might be a reference to either Templar symbolism, or perhaps to his relationship through his mother’s family to the King of Sweden, Karl Knutsson Bonde (1408/09–1470), which in that case would indicate that Reuterholm had pure, royal blood in his veins. Furthermore, the newly dubbed knights were requested to design a personal heraldic shield which was required to be approved by the Heraldicus Magnus.

Les Illuminés d’Avignon

It has often been claimed that Reuterholm had been initiated into a number of masonic and other closed societies during his travels abroad in 1789–1790 and 1790–1791, but apart from his initiation into Les Illuminés d’Avignon in 1789, no conclusive proof of this has been unearthed to date. Nevertheless, the fact that Reuterholm changed his knightly name from Eques De Sanguine Puro to Eques et Frater Professus De Sanguine Puro might refer to Reuterholm having been initiated during his travels into the Rectified Scottish Rite, or Rite Ecossais

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Rectifié, in which the two highest degrees were called Professed and Grand Professed. (Baron Karl Gotthelf von Hund [1722–1776] had added, around 1770, a seventh degree to the Strict Observance called Eques Professus. This became the highest degree in the Strict Observance and, as the name suggests, it was a highly religious and explicitly Christian degree firmly rooted in the Templar tradition – just as the later Professed and Grand Professed degrees of the Rite Ecossais Rectifié). The Rite Ecossais Rectifié was founded around 1774 by JeanBaptiste Willermoz (1730–1824), by profession a tradesman in silk living in Lyon, today remembered as a keen explorer of the more hidden or esoteric aspects of high degree Freemasonry. Willermoz had become a Mason in 1750, in 1767 he was initiated into L’Ordre des Élus Coëns, and in 1773 into the Rite of the Strict Observance. The rituals of the Rectified Scottish Rite developed, from the rituals of the Strict Observance, over a span of some thirty-four years from 1775 to 1809. The main object of the rituals is said to be the ‘progressive revelation of the theosophical doctrine and teachings of Martinez de Pasqually’ (1708/1709–1774) who had founded L’Ordre des Élus Coëns, or the Order of the Masonic Knights Élus Coëns of the Universe, in the 1760s. Willermoz remained faithful to the teachings of Martines de Pasqually and the Élus Coëns and considered them to be the key to the true secret and object of Freemasonry. In fact, L’Ordre des Élus Coëns functioned as an inner order of the Rectified Scottish Rite, or as a “Masonry beyond Masonry”. To a certain extent, the esotericism of Reuterholm and his fellow Swedish magicians bears close resemblance to the esoteric teachings of L’Ordre des Élus Coëns, in that he was seeking to return to “True Christianity” by means of intermediary angels and other entities. L’Ordre des Élus Coëns was founded by the theosophist and kabbalist Martines de Pasqually (1708/1709–1774) in the 1760s, and the members of the order were expected to live a marked religious life, which is referred to in the name of the order: “chosen priests”, from the Hebrew kohen, meaning priest. Pasqually’s teachings focus on the Gnostic idea of the Fall of Man through which humankind became separated from God. Through the initiatory system of the order, the members were expected to reverse the Fall and make an upward journey, in which the seven degrees of the order (not counting the three Craft degrees) corresponded to the seven gifts of the Spirit. The final goal of the initiatory process was “reintegration”, a return to the primitive and primordial state of man characterised by union with God. The theurgy employed in the order was a means to this goal, through which divine energies were invoked and the communion with good spirits was sought. According to Jean-François Var, this theurgy was not aimed at acquiring natural or supernatural powers, but it was part of a religious “cult”, which included a liturgy. After the death of Pasqually in 1774, Caignet de Lester

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(1725–1778) succeeded him as leader of the order (Grand Souverain de l’Ordre), followed by Sebastian de Las Casas in 1778. Although L’Orde des Élus Coëns was formally dissolved in 1781, it continued to have active lodges, most notably one in Lyons under the leadership of Willermoz. Reuterholm’s initiation into Les Illuminés d’Avignon is, on the other hand, well documented. (Over twenty letters written by members of Les Illuminés d’Avignon to Reuterholm between November 1789 and June 1790 are preserved in the archives of the Grand Lodge in Stockholm. In this order the members usually referred to each other by a number, followed by a letter: in the case of Reuterholm he was referred to as 373 A). This order was founded in Berlin around 1778, and was initially a loosely formed group with an alchemical interest. Soon, however, the group came under the control of Louis Joseph Bernard Philibert Guyton de Morveau, called Brumore (1738–1786), the alchemist and former Benedictine Dom Antoine Joseph Pernety (1716–1796), and the Polish count Thaddeus Leszczy Grabianka (1740–1807). The group was transformed into a formal initiatic organisation, and around 1784 it was relocated to Avignon. The order to relocate had been given by “La Sainte Parole” (The Sacred Word), a mysterious oracle that became central to the group. The written consultation of the oracle went through Brumore, who passed on the questions to the esotericist and millenarian prophet Johann Daniel Müller (1716-after 1786), whose identity remained secret to the other members of the order. The combination of alchemy with the regular consultation of La Sainte Parole was central to the order’s activity, and in order to become a full member of the order, one had to go through an initiation which took no less than nine days to complete. The initiation was seen as a consecration and the climax consisted of the gift of seeing one’s guardian angel. Reuterholm and his fellow Mason and esotericist Carl Göran Silfverhielm (1759–1808) were, after eight days of preparation, initiated/consecrated by Pernety and L’Homme in a circle in a wood outside the city of Avignon on 9 December 1789. Three days later, Reuterholm received the high dignity of “Sacrificateur du Nord” and became the Nordic representative of the Order. On the same occasion, his friend Silfverhielm received a similar title and a socalled illuminé degree (Silfverhielm was referred to as 357 D within the order). Reuterholm would later mention in a letter to Duke Charles that he had in Avignon undergone the allegories of the entire “Black Degree” and “won the Acacia”. By the time that Reuterholm and Silfverhielm joined Les Illuminés d’Avignon, it had already broken up into three different factions, and by 1793 the order was completely disbanded. When Reuterholm later returned to Sweden in 1790, his affiliation with Les Illu­minés d’Avignon would be the cause of misgivings on the part of Gustavus

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III, who after the French revolution became increasingly suspicious of secret societies. The king also accused Reuterholm of being in contact with the Illuminati Order, founded by Adam Weishaupt (1743–1830) in 1776. However, it seems highly unlikely that Reuterholm would have had any contact with this order, as it was in large part a reaction against the esoteric Rosicrucian high degree systems and degrees that flourished in the German-speaking world at the time, towards which Reuterholm was probably much more sympathetic given his esoteric proclivity. Surviving manuscripts at the archives of the Grand Lodge of the Swedish Order of Freemasons show that Reuterholm was deeply involved with various esoteric practices, including ritual magic, Kabbalah, and necromancy. Reuterholm shared this interest with Duke Charles who had gathered around him a small circle of esotericists. Among these esotericists it was particularly Gustaf Björnram who influenced Reuterholm. Reuterholm remained Björnram’s pupil for at least four years, from 1782 to 1786. His first so-called “conviction” together with Björnram was on 17 August 1782, and Reuterholm probably saw this as a form of initiation. It occurred at the St. John’s Cemetery, but the results were quite limited. Six months later, on 16 February 1783, Reuterholm performed his first magical working on his own, followed by numerous experiments. The following day, Reuterholm was initiated by his master Björnram into ‘the higher science’, and this was followed by ‘the highest initiation as a magical worker’ (Sw. den allra högsta initieringen som magisk arbetare) three years later, on 7 July 1786 (Bogdan 2005: 29–31; Reuterholm, ms. 121.44 and 121.45).

Later Developments

By the time of Charles XIII’s final revision of the rituals of the Swedish Rite in 1801, the creation of the Rite was to all intents and purposes completed, and the subsequent history of Freemasonry in Sweden is more or less limited to the spread and implementation of the Swedish Rite throughout Sweden, with lodges opening in practically every major city in Sweden during the nineteenth century. The Swedish Rite was also exported to the other Nordic countries, as well as to parts of Germany, and the system stands out as one of the few explicitly Christian masonic systems, in the sense that in order to be admitted to the system the candidate has to profess the Christian faith. During the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, the Christian moral character of Freemasonry was emphasised, and esoteric interpretations of the symbols encountered in the rituals tended to disappear from masonic discourse. The turn from an essentially esoteric understanding of Freemasonry and its symbols, as expressed in

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the surviving papers of Charles XIII, Gustav Reuterholm, and others, to a Christian moral interpretation of the same rituals and symbols, is reflective on the one hand of the moral emphasis of the United Grand Lodge of England which Freemasonry in Sweden increasingly identified with, and on the other hand of the general decrease of esotericism in the public sphere in Sweden during the nineteenth century. Esoteric interpretations of Freemasonry reappeared on the scene towards the end of the nineteenth century, with the emergence of fin-de-siècle occultism and related esoteric currents such as Theosophy, and later, Anthroposophy. Compared to other European countries, there is a surprising lack of competing masonic systems on Swedish soil, and the hegemony of the Swedish Rite in Sweden was to all intents and purposes unchallenged, and remains so to this day. That being said, there have been a few attempts to establish other systems in Sweden, although they have been largely unsuccessful in recruiting any large number of members. On 1 May 1918, a lodge of Le Droit Humain (LDH) was opened at Stockholm. LDH, founded in France in 1893, is a mixed masonic order which admits both men and women on an equal basis (Snoek 2014). In most English-speaking countries – as well as in Scandinavia – the order is tightly connected to the Theosophical movement, and Annie Besant (1847–1933) was both the President of the Theosophical Society (from 1907) and the Deputy Grand Master of LDH (from 1909), as well as Grand Commander of the British Federation of the LDH. The lodge in Stockholm is part of the Scandinavian Federation of the LDH, which includes three lodges in Denmark and two in Norway. According to their website, the Swedish LDH has, apart from the lodge at Stockholm, local branches in Malmö and Vänersborg. In contrast to the Swedish Rite, the members of LDH do not have to profess the Christian faith, but instead adhere to the belief in a supreme being. This non-denominational approach to religion is shared with Svenska Frimurare Lägret (SFL), founded by John Trollnäs (1908– 1970) in Lund, in 1951. According to their (now defunct) website, Trollnäs had been initiated in Germany in 1929, from where he received a charter to establish lodges in Sweden. At least four lodges were founded: Lodge No. 1, The Three Pyramids (De Trenne Pyramiderna), in Lund, 1951; Lodge No. 2, The Acacia (Acacian), in Halmstad, 1956; Lodge No. 3, The Chain of Brotherhood (Brö­ drakedjan), in Gothenborg, 1957; and finally Lodge No. 4 Veritas, in Helsingborg 1958. In addition to these four lodges, there was also a lodge of instruction. The lodges worked according to the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite and the Rite of Memphis, which Trollnäs had been initiated into. At the height of its activities in the 1960s, the membership of the organisation peaked at around 350 members. During the 1980s and 1990s, the membership dwindled and it was decided in 2006 that the lodges should go inactive. In 2009 there was an

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attempt to reactivate the lodges, which lasted until 2011, when the SFL went inactive once again. Finally, mention should be made of Gran Oriente Latinoamericano (GOLa), which has existed since 1984 in Sweden. This mixed Grand Lodge was founded by refugees from Chile. It has four lodges in Sweden: Janus and Nórdica in Stockholm, Amerika in Norrköping, and Constructores por la Paz in Södertälje. LDH, SFL, and GOLa are seen as irregular by the Swedish Order of Freemasons, which in practice means that members of the Swedish Order of Freemasons are not allowed to partake in the rites and ceremonies of these organisations.

References

Bergroth, Tom C., Kungliga Carl den XIII:s Orden, Stockholm: Svenska Frimurare Orden, 2002. Bogdan, Henrik, Western Esotericism and Rituals of Initiation, Albany: State University of New York Press, 2007. Dahlgren, Carl, Frimureriet med tillämpning på Sverige, Stockholm: H. Klemmings Antikvariat, 1925. Eklund, Dan, Sten Svensson and Hans Berg (eds.), Hertig Carl och det svenska frimureriet, Uppsala: Forskningslogen Carl Friedrich Eckleff, 2010. Forsstrand, Carl, En Gustaviansk ädlings ungdomshistoria. Några anteckningar av och om Gustaf Adolf Reuterholm, Stockholm: Hugo Gebers Förlag, 1925. Kinnander, Magnus, Svenska frimureriets historia, Stockholm: Natur och Kultur, 1943. Lamm, Martin, Upplysningstidens romantik, Stockholm: Hugo Gebers Förlag, 1918, 1920. Lekeby, Kjell, Gustaviansk mystik. Alkemister, kabbalister, magiker, andeskådare, astrologer och skattgrävare i den esoteriska kretsen kring G.A. Reuterholm, hertig Carl och hertiginnan Charlotta 1776–1803, Sala/Södermalm: Vertigo Förlag, 2010. Lenhammar, Harry, Med murslev och svärd: Svenska frimurarorden under 250 år. Delsbo: Bokförlaget Åsak, 1985. Reuterholm, Samling af Maçonnique händelser. Till egen ro och hielpreda för minnet uptecknade uppå Svidja år 1784 af G[ustaf ] A[dolph] R[euterholm] (ms. 121.45). Reuterholm, J.E. Gripenvaldts arfvode för Carl Bonde … (ms. 121.25). Reuterholm, Magisk Arbets Iornal, författad af G[ustaf ] A[dolph] R[euterholm] (ms. 121.44). Svenskt Biografiskt Lexikon [SBL], Vol. 30. Thustrup, Carl Ludvig Henning, Anteckningar till Svenska Frimureriets Historia, Stock­ holm: Meddelanden från Svenska Stora Landslogens arkiv och bibliotek, Vol. 1, 1892; Vol. 2, 1898.

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Chapter 23 Hermeticism in Denmark

Hermeticism in Denmark Morten Fink-Jensen The myths of ancient Egypt as the cradle of magic and alchemy and the thrice great Hermes probably held little attraction in Denmark prior to the Renaissance and the publication of the various texts of the Corpus Hermeticum by Marsilio Ficino in fifteenth-century Florence. The influence of this revived Hermeticism, however, took almost a century to reach the by then Lutheran Denmark. The fathers of the Danish Reformation of 1536 were not unaware of Florentine Platonism given that Christiern Pedersen (ca. 1480–1554), a prolific translator of many of Luther’s works into Danish, was the owner of a copy of Ficino’s De christiana religione. Hermeticism held no influence on the Danish Lutheran Church, and it was not perceived as a theological threat in the years following the Reformation. This allowed for Hermetic influences to seep into natural philosophy, first and foremost in the late sixteenth century, when alternatives to the joint forces of Aristotelian philosophy and Lutheran orthodoxy were being sought after by certain members of the learned world. In this respect Hermeticism in early modern Denmark was fused with Paracelsianism, and as in Europe generally the phrase Hermetic medicine was used as a substitute for Paracelsian medicine. This also caused Hermeticism to be an integrated and widely accepted part of alchemy and iatrochemistry. However, Hermeticism, in the strict sense of the word, would have had strong bearing on theology and out of fear of repudiation it caused would-be propagators of Hermeticism to tread carefully. To edit and publish Hermetic writings such as Poimander or Asclepius would have been unlikely to go down well with the censorship at the University of Copenhagen at the time. Also the relative scarcity of academics and well-educated laymen would have ruled out the publication of Hermetic texts. Too few people were potential readers and buyers for a Danish printer to risk it financially. This was not a situation unique to Hermetic texts but also affected, say, works of Aristotle. Yet Hermetic writings, whether texts of the Corpus Hermeticum itself or by authors commenting on them, were not illegal to either read or possess and they were easily available in libraries and book collections of noblemen or members of the learned republic, who had bought these volumes on their student travels abroad.

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The Tycho Brahe Circle

In the 1570s Hermeticism influenced the intellectual outlook of the astronomer Tycho Brahe, royal physician Peter Severinus (Peder Sørensen), and professor of medicine at the University of Copenhagen Johannes Pratensis (Hans Philipsen). The three of them were friends, and surviving letters show how they shared a zest for esoteric knowledge while trying to ward off interest from those uninitiated and unworthy of the divine knowledge they believed they possessed. Severinus made his name in European medicine with his Idea medicinae (1571) which can be described as an epitome of moderate Paracelsian medicine and cosmology. Severinus was well aware of Paracelsus’ debt to the writings of Hermes, and both in the Idea and the short publication Epistola scripta Theophrasto Paracelso (ca. 1572), Severinus wrote of Paracelsus’ own reverence for Hermes and how the Paracelsian ideas corresponded with theories found in the Hermetic texts. Severinus died in 1602, but without having published anything for the last thirty years of his life. By his own somewhat blurred account because he feared criticism, or perhaps even reprisals. He also appears to have distanced himself from more overt Hermeticism, leaving, with the untimely death of Pratensis in 1576, Tycho Brahe as the by far most influential representative of Hermeticism in late sixteenth-century Denmark. As an independent and affluent nobleman, Tycho did little to hide his reverence for the Hermetic tradition. In a public lecture at the University of Copen­­hagen he attributed the invention of the mathematical sciences to the ancient Egyptians, and elsewhere in his writings Hermes Trismegistus was praised as the author of the Tabula Smaragdina (The Emerald Tablet). His own castle Uraniborg was adorned by two sculptured emblems at its entrance. They were Hermetic allegories of the interdependence between the earth and the skies in the shape of chemistry, or alchemy, personified with the statement: Despiciendo, suspicio (By looking down, I see up) and astronomy stating: Susci­ piendo, despicio (By looking up, I see down). This was a reference to a famous phrase from The Emerald Tablet (“as above, so below”), but at the same time an expression of Tycho’s philosophy of life and science, viz. that the earth and the heavens were interconnected in a cosmic analogy and therefore neither of them could be studied in isolation. Furthermore, traditional Aristotelian cosmology claimed the spheres above the moon to be perfect and unalterable. But as a result of his astronomical observations Tycho realised this to be incorrect. Rather, judging from the appearance of the supernova in 1572 and on the basis of his observations of comets, Tycho deemed Hermetic and Paracelsian cosmology to be best in accordance with reality. The Hermetic vision of Tycho was

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thus more than rhetoric and ideals, but presented a valid foundation to him, one that lent proof to his empirical observations.

The Acceptable Face of Hermeticism

When Tycho died at the dawn of the seventeenth century, Hermeticism no longer played a discernible part of academic life. This does not mean that Hermeticism vanished, but it was mellowed down and fused into an eclectic natural philosophy which was dominated by Aristotelian and Galenic philosophy and theory. This is evident from the writings of Caspar Bartholin the Elder, who was appointed professor of medicine at the University of Copenhagen in 1613. Despite being much of a traditionalist, and an orthodox Lutheran as well, Bartholin made numerous references to Hermes Trismegistus, the Corpus Hermeticum, and Paracelsus in his many writings. Bartholin the Elder was no Hermeticist, but even so he believed in the truth of the once pristine wisdom of the ancients. The Hermetic tradition could therefore not be ignored, and he included Ficino among the authors recommended to the students of medicine in his handbook De studio medico (1628). Already in 1626 Bartholin the Elder had become a professor of theology in Copenhagen, yet for him it was not a question whether one should study the Hermetic tradition or not, but how it should be interpreted. As could be expected, he strongly subordinated the Hermetic tradition to Christian thinking, and the legitimacy of Hermeticism in sixteenth and seventeenth-century Denmark relied on Biblical evidence and connotations; for instance, professor Ole Borch stated as a fact in his Hermetis sapientae (1674) that Moses had disintegrated the golden calf (Exod. 32:20) by means of chemical processes which he had learnt in Egypt. Advocates of Hermetic ideas were few and far apart in the middle of the seventeenth century. For instance, the lore of Egypt and the Hermetic tradition exerted little influence on Bartholin the Elder’s son, the anatomist Thomas Bartholin, even though he as part of his European peregrinatio unsuccessfully made for Egypt in 1644. One exception was Ambrosius Rhodius, who in 1635 arrived in Copenhagen from Saxony. He published a couple of treatises on Pythagoras and astrological medicine in Copenhagen. In 1637 he was appointed medicus in Christiania, Norway, where he continued to promote Hermetic and Paracelsian ideas, including a work on Severinus. These publications were studied by the young Ole Borch, and they influenced him a great deal. Rhodius tried to rehabilitate Severinus, and Borch would later stage himself as walking in the footsteps of Severinus.

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Ole Borch and the Revival of Hermeticism

With the accession of King Frederik III to the throne in 1648, Denmark acquired a monarch with a personal interest in alchemy and Hermeticism, and in 1660 Ole Borch obtained a royal appointment to the university as professor in philology, poetry, chemistry, and botany. Although his lectures in botany as well as chemistry were supposed to address only topics of relevance to medicine, Borch was nevertheless the first to be appointed to a chair of chemistry at the University of Copenhagen. Prior to his appointment as professor, Borch had worked as a teacher to, amongst others, Nicolaus Steno (Niels Stensen). Borch did his best to exert his influence, as can be seen from Steno’s surviving notes from 1659. Borch had Steno read Paracelsus and Ficino, and Steno also busied himself with alchemical experiments. The two of them also held debates, on one occasion about the standpoint that Paracelsus and the magi had not been devils, but natural philosophers. Steno would, however, soon reject the Hermetic path. On the instigation of Borch, King Frederik III in 1667 appointed the Italian Giuseppe Francesco Borri as court alchemist. Borri was an Italian refugee who had fled Rome where he had been sentenced to death for heresy and burnt in effigie in 1661. On his Grand Tour Borch met him in Amsterdam, and Borch was convinced that he was a great Hermetic magus being able to produce gold by chemical processes [see also the chapter on Alchemy in Denmark]. Borri was met with great expectations in Copenhagen, where he was equipped with a laboratory, but with the much anticipated gold being long in coming, his position became untenable after Frederik III had died in 1670. Borri left Denmark and in 1672 he was arrested in Austria and sent as prisoner to Rome where he died. His reputation rapidly faded, and he left no alchemical legacy behind him in Denmark, even though Borch would still call Borri “the Hermes of our times” in his Hermetis sapientiae of 1674. Ole Borch was an ardent advocate of iatrochemistry, and he accepted and promoted the idea that it was based on the joint ideas of Hermetic philosophy and Paracelsian medicine. In his capacity as professor, he subsequently published several works on the history of chemistry and alchemy, where he vigorously defended the legacies of Hermes and Paracelsus. The publication of Borch’s defences of Hermetic philosophy and Paracelsian alchemy was made possible by way of royal support. As opposed to the religious climate of the late sixteenth century, where Severinus had to subdue his reverence for Hermetic and Paracelsian ideas, the ancient philosophy was no longer deemed as a threat to Lutheran orthodoxy provided, however, that certain measures were taken. These measures concerned the elements of magic

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in the Hermetic and alchemical traditions. Borch and those similarly disposed had to make sure they were not promoting heresy or witchcraft, with such accusations otherwise being certain to follow from the Church. Borch, who considered himself to be a model Lutheran, consequently set out to tie the ancient magic of Hermes to Paracelsus and the natural magic of the Renaissance, trying to prove the necessity of this tradition to contemporary science, while also carefully making it devoid of magic and putting natural processes in its place.

The Debate with Conring

Borch’s first defence of Hermeticism came in 1668 with De ortu et progressu chemiae. It was a stern critique of the German scholar Hermann Conring’s book De hermetica Aegyptiorum vetere et Paracelsicorum nova medicina (1648). Conring had questioned the supremacy of the Hermetic tradition, calling into question the rationality of its supporters such as Paracelsus and Severinus. Borch, dedicating his reply to King Frederik III, fired back at Conring, claiming Hermes was the inventor of all sciences. He placed chemistry in an Old Testament setting, attributing its invention to Tubal-Cain. After the deluge, Noah’s grandson Canaan settled in Egypt, where he was known as Hermes Trismegistus. Alchemy and iatrochemisty derived from him and were handed down to the time of Borch by a succession of prisci theologi including Moses, Orpheus, Plato, medieval alchemists and mystics including Basil Valentinus, Arnald of Villanov, Ramon Llull, and Ficino and Paracelsus in the Renaissance. Obvious­ly, Borch argued, keepers of this originally antediluvian wisdom could not be accused of sorcery or quackery. Conring was swift with his reply and published a second edition of his De hermetica which included a rebuff of Borch. Borch hit back with the copious Hermetis, Aegyptiorum et chemicorum sapientae (1674), in which he attempted to ridicule Conring while once again praising Hermes Trismegistus and Paracelsus. The Hermeticism of Borch made him an adversary of Aristotelian natural philosophy, and he dedicated a large section of his book to vehement attacks on Aristotle, who in Borch’s mind was not only a second-rate natural philosopher, but ungodly, too. Also, with his reply Conring had taken the debate to an international level, dedicating his work to Cardinal Colbert in Paris. Accordingly, Borch also dedicated Hermetis sapientia to the cardinal, and the debate with Conring was followed by the learned world of Europe with reviews appearing in Journals des Scavans and the Philosophical Transactions of The Royal Society in London.

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In his works on chemistry, Borch made numerous references to Hermetic texts such as the Latin treatise Asclepius, the Tabula Smaragdina, as well as Hermetic manuscripts he had studied in the Royal Library in Paris. Borch’s own library has been lost and no records survive to tell of the Hermetic literature he undoubtedly owned. His thorough knowledge of the Hermetic texts is, however, well documented in his writings. Prior to his appointment to the chair at the university, Borch held a five-year tenure as teacher in the household of the seneschal Joachim Gersdorff. Here Borch had access not only to a chemical laboratory, but also to the nobleman’s large library containing, for instance, numerous editions of the Corpus Hermeticum, which were later incorporated in the Royal Library in Copenhagen.

Borch’s Arguments and Legacy

The case of Borch is a clear indication that the dating of the Corpus Hermeticum to late antiquity, as carried out by Isaac Casaubon in 1614, proving that the texts could not have been written in ancient Egypt, had limited immediate effect. Borch was not unaffected by the philological arguments, but citing for instance the Stromata of Clement of Alexandria, he maintained that the core of the texts was genuinely ancient and originally by Hermes Trismegistus. Also, since Borch believed that Hermes Trismegistus was called Thoth by the Egyptians, Hermes by the Greeks, and Mercury by the Romans, he applied the tactic of taking everything that had ever been written in an approving vein about these gods in support of the theory of the divine wisdom of the ancient Egyptians. This opened the door to arguments from the world of poetry and classical authors, neatly allowing Borch to incorporate the poetry and philology of the other half of his university chair in the debate. Borch was very clear about Paracelsian medicine resting on a foundation of Hermeticism. But as was the case with Hermes Trismegistus, Paracelsus, too, had to be purged of affiliations with the overtly occult. Borch argues that the healing qualities of chemical remedies have been proved by experience – Borch was practising medicine privately – wherefore he cannot do anything but support chemical philosophy, but he was adamant that this was not necessarily an occult science, but rather based on natural processes which were possible to repeat in the laboratory. Borch died a bachelor in 1690 and his will left most of his assets to the establishment of a students’ hall in Copenhagen, which still exists today as Borch’s Kollegium. In his will, Borch had specified that he wanted the institution to be called Collegium Mediceum. One may safely assume that this alluded to the

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Medicis of Florence, under whose protectorate Hermetic philosophy had been reintroduced to Western Europe in the fifteenth century. Fittingly, Borch had a statue of Hermes erected in the garden of the kollegium. Not long after his death, the Hermetic visions of Borch were abandoned by academic circles. In the early eighteenth century they were largely forgotten, too. Accordingly, when in 1737 an expedition under the leadership of F.L. Norden set out from Denmark to explore Egypt and Ethiopia, the aim was not to search for arcane Hermetic wisdom, but to map the Nile and document the topography of its surroundings. The myth of Hermes, however, continued to appeal to occult societies and Freemasons.

References

Christianson, John Robert, On Tycho’s Island: Tycho Brahe and his Assistants, 1570–1601, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Fink-Jensen, Morten, “Ole Borch mellem naturlig magi og moderne naturvidenskab”, Historisk Tidsskrift, 100 (2000), 35–68. ——— . Fornuften under troens lydighed. Naturfilosofi, medicin og teologi i Danmark 1536–1636, Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum, 2004. Iversen, Erik, “Ægyptologi indtil 1937”, in: P.J. Jensen and Leif Grane (eds.), Københavns Universitet 1479–1979, Vol. 8, Copenhagen: University of Copenhagen, 1992, 593– 633. Kragh, Helge (ed.), Fra middeladerlærdom til den nye videnskab, 1000–1730. Dansk naturvidenskabs historie, Vol. 1, Aarhus: Aarhus University, 2005. Ræder, Hans, Elis Strömgren and Bengt Strömgren (eds.), Tycho Brahe’s Description of his Instruments and Scientific Work as Given in Astronomiae Instauratae Mechanica (1598), Copenhagen: Ejnar Munksgaard, 1946.

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Chapter 24 Hermeticism in Sweden

Hermeticism in Sweden Susanna Åkerman The fragmentary sources for tracing Hermeticism in Sweden stem from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, when these texts still formed a basis for cosmological thinking. The Corpus Hermeticum was often associated with another Hermetic text, the Tabula smaragdina or Emerald Tablet. Translated into Latin from the Arabic in the twelfth century, the text was particularly popular among German alchemists, who rarely read the Corpus Hermeticum but instead based their understanding of Hermeticism on the short sentences from the Emerald Tablet. The Emerald Tablet was furthermore used to present alchemy in a simple but enigmatic form. The Tablet formulated the kernel of Hermeticism in a widely spread maxim on the parallels between the cosmological macrocosm and the human microcosm: “As above, so below”. This figure of thought had a great influence on Hermeticism in Sweden. Swedenborg, for example, reformulated it to treat of correspondences between the natural, the spiritual, and the heavenly realms. Hermetic philosophy likewise influenced three other currents: mysticism, alchemy, and Rosicrucianism.

Seventeenth-Century Metaphysics

Hermeticism began to be an important current in Sweden with Johan Skytte (1577–1645), who was the Chancellor of Uppsala University. In the 1640s Skytte delivered an oration in which he praised King Gustavus II Adolphus for having opened the doors for “Theophrastus [Paracelsus] and [Hermes] Trismegistos” to the Swedish universities. This was a clear signal that the older pagan philosophy was compatible with Christian beliefs. In the same spirit, the Finnish natural philosopher Sigfrid Aron Forsius (1560–1624) edited several almanacs to be used for astrological purposes. Forsius’ Hermetic ideas became evident when he was brought to justice in 1619, as his ideas were no longer tolerated by the Swedish Lutheran orthodoxy. Although Forsius once mentioned Rosicrucianism in a negative manner, he nevertheless used ideas that had been spread through Rosicrucian writings, such as the special significance of the great conjunction between Jupiter and Saturn appearing every twenty years.

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Their appearance and position in the heavens was taken to herald a new age of outpouring of the grace of nature (gratia naturae) and of new discoveries in the sciences. [See the chapter on Paracelsianism in Sweden in the present volume]. Forsius also pointed to the appearance of Jan Hus in Bohemia in the fourteenth century as a precursor of Luther. Furthermore, Forsius described how the word LUX (light) springs forth from the Cross of St. Andrew [X] and its constituent parts L, V and X, an exegesis that can be found in several other Hermetic texts and was therefore well-known at the time. The same play on words is also found in the sixteenth theorem of the British hermeticist John Dee’s celebrated Hermetic-mystical text Monas hieroglyphica (Antwerp, 1564).

Queen Christina’s Court

In Stockholm, Queen Christina (1626–1689) was described by her librarian as “trembling with joy” when she received a copy of Iamblichus’ De mysteriis Aegyptiorum, Chaldeorum et Assyriorum (On the Mysteries of the Egyptians, Chaldeans, and Assyrians). Neoplatonic and Hermetic sources were in this volume used to describe methods and practices of theurgy and divination, the ascent of the soul and how to come in contact with gods and demons. The Latin translation of Iamblichus’ tract on the mysteries was originally published in 1491 in a collection of Neoplatonic texts translated by Marsilio Ficino. In Rome, Christina was to acquire a bulky edition, printed at Aldus press in Venice in 1516. This edition was later cut down to a handy anthology printed in many editions, the last in Lyon 1607. The book Christina received in Stockholm, before her abdication in 1654, was probably such a condensed version. The anthology of 1607 contains Proclus’ commentary to Alcibiades’ pronouncements in Plato’s dialogue on the soul, demons, offerings, and magic. The volume also contains Porphyry’s exposition of the unique nature of gods and demons, and Michael Psellus’ similar thoughts on the nature of demons. The most important part of the volume was the reprint of two central texts attributed to Mercurius [Hermes] Trismegistus, Poemander and Asclepius – perfect discourses on the union of the higher self and the mind of light (Gr. nous). In Rome, Christina collected a large amount of Hermetic texts, among them Ficino’s edition of the Corpus Hermeticum. Christina shared the interest in hermetica with a number of Italian alchemists. In Sweden, as in the rest of northern Europe, on the other hand, direct reading of the source texts in the Corpus Hermeticum was rare. Hermeticism was influenced by Platonic thought. Christina’s teacher Isaac Vossius writes that she was led to Platonism at an early stage in her life through the works of the Florentine Renaissance Platonist and Christian

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kabbalist Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, but he does not specify which works she had studied. He may have intended Pico’s entire collected works that were available in Stockholm. The most widely-known text by Pico is his programmatic Oration on the Dignity of Man (De hominis dignitate), consisting of 900 Hermetic, philosophical, magical, and kabbalistic theses that Pico wanted to debate. The list was banned by the Church, but the ban was revoked in 1493 by the Pope Alexander VI (Borgia) who was interested in Hermeticism. In vivid images Pico explains that Seraphs and Thrones constantly watch over humans. The goal for each human being is to climb Jacob’s ladder all the way up to God’s throne and stand there together with the Seraphs, Cherubs, and Thrones. One is to emulate the Seraphic fire of love, the Cherubic intelligence, and the Thrones’ steadfastness of judgement. Christina’s interest in Pico’s philosophy may have been sparked by Johannes Bureus, who quotes Pico in his notes. Pico’s central role was further shown in that she shipped a portrait of Pico to Antwerp, and then to Rome, when she left Stockholm. During the 1650s the poet Georg Stiernhielm (1598–1673) wrote several smaller drafts on natural philosophy and on the light and darkness of creation. In this choice of topics he followed the model of the English hermeticist Robert Fludd’s Philosophia moysaica (Gouda, 1638). Fludd cites the Christian kabbalist Johannes Reuchlin, who a century before had written about the “Wondermaking Word” in the beginning of creation: The bright Aleph and the dark Aleph spin two spheres, an upper and a lower, combining the soul’s domain above and the natural world below. Inspired by this idea, the Swedish Baroque poet started to write a series of smaller philosophical tracts in which he claimed that a web of ideas was formed through the vibrating creative power of the Hebrew letter Aleph. This web of ideas was ordered as a golden chain of active principles. In Stiernhielm’s words it was “Minerva’s necklace”, a phrase that he also used as the title of his manuscript presented to Queen Christina and her court of Dutch, French, and German humanist scholars. The necklace was a chain linked together by twelve principles of spiritual vitality: ens, mens, lux, styx, res, vis, fas, fors, spes, amor, ops, pax – the mental sword, consciousness, light, streams in the netherworld, things, will, justice, chance, faith, love, power, and peace. According to Stiernhielm, following the links of Minerva meant faithfully following in the tracks of Nature. Minerva’s necklace binds together all things in their allotted places in the emanation from God. First, God created Nox, the pure Non-being from which prime matter, prima materia, would be created. Stiernhielm derived the concept of a primary Nothingness from Robert Fludd, whose Philosophia moysaica (1638), he studied diligently. Like Giordano Bruno, Stiernhielm saw matter as constructed by atoms: In the beginning of the process of creation atoms are spread throughout the void. Stiernhielm sees this

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prima materia as virtually non-being, without qualities or quantities. The next step in the world process, according to Stiernhielm, is Chaos. In this phase matter is sterile, shapeless, void of existence, but is equipped with a possibility to bring forth all things. This formation of things works through the spirit of God, which infuses Mens, the Soul, into prima materia. Mens contains in itself the conceptual seeds of all things, rationes seminales, with which matter is now replenished. The Soul has been secretly hidden in the Godhead from eternity and is a reflection of the Divine Light. Infused into matter, the Soul streams through the cosmos, to which it relates as the soul of man relates to his body. It expresses itself as the instinct of animals and as reason in man. Through the Soul each thing partakes of the One, the Good, and the True. This doctrine of a soul which forms, gives life to, and maintains all created things, played an important role in anti-Aristotelian natural philosophy. Stiernhielm viewed his doctrine of the Soul as an interpretation of the original Platonic tradition, which he claimed he had restored in a purer and truer form than had ever been done before. (Stiernhielm’s Mss. Fd 3, 5, 6, 9.) In the next phase of the world process, Light forces the tenacity and sluggishness of matter to realise the seeds of things hidden in the forms. Light in itself is an almost immaterial substance, a ray and splendour emanating from God, who in an instant fills and infiltrates the All. With Light, dark matter becomes visible, with its warmth it revives the sleeping forms in matter, and with its movement it confers life. Everything specific is the work of the Soul. With his doctrine of Nox, Mens, and Lux, Stiernhielm believed that he had given a secure foundation for all further philosophising. After participating in Queen Christina’s learned discussions in Stockholm, the courtier Bengt Skytte (1614–1683) journeyed to England in 1659 to propose to Charles II that the British crown should found a royal academy of sciences in London. These plans bore fruit in 1660 with the founding of the famous Royal Society. Skytte’s original plan was, however, replaced by another scheme proposed by the chemist Robert Boyle. Skytte instead travelled to Berlin and in 1667 proposed building a utopian city of science in Pomerania, called Sopho­polis. Skytte also suggested, in an unpublished manuscript called Sol prae­ci­parium linguarum sub solarium, that an ideal language should be built around Paracelsian alchemical symbols. Another Swedish hermeticist was the Livonian professor Friedrich Menius (ca. 1593–1659), who held a chair at the University of Dorpat. In the 1640s he wrote manuscripts on the Last Judgment using the pseudonym Salomon Majus, and he published the tract Consensus hermetico-mosaicus. Divine Providence is here mirrored in the forward stride of the light of creation. After

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a universal conflagration, the clear light of Paradise will shine again over those who have been saved from Divine wrath. Menius argues for and illustrates this coming scenario by means of selected scriptural quotations. In 1639, he had dedicated a similar text, Pandora Sophica, to Queen Christina. His manuscripts were confiscated in 1646, and Menius was accused of having come close to Giordano Bruno’s heresy on the existence of an infinite variety of worlds.

Campanella and the Swedish King

The fate of Sweden was also mentioned by the hermetically influenced Domi­ nican monk from Naples, Tommaso Campanella, who in exile in Paris in 1638 wrote a salutation to the King and Queen of France on the day of the birth of the French Dauphin, claiming that: The Swedish King in vain desired to build a wonderful city, after the name of the Sun, as I can assure you with a sincere heart The King of Sweden started the project as it is described by the author in the wonderful little book The City of the Sun, fooled thereto by the astrology of Tycho Brahe (Campanella 1638–39: 300). Campanella’s The City of the Sun, written in 1602, is a Hermetic work describing a utopian city built in seven concentric circles with a round temple in the centre. The city is to be understood as an image of the human psyche. Campanella saw Gustavus Adolphus as a monarch who could put this utopian idea into practice. Johann Valentin Andreae’s utopian vision of a Christianopolis was presented in 1628 to, among others, the Swedish diplomat Johan Adler Salvius, and thus may also have influenced the Swedish king. Was it perhaps the architecturally intricate fortress Gustafsburg in Mainz that would be built on the model of The City of the Sun? Another possibility is the geometrically constructed city plan of Gothenburg. Or was there a third Swedish project to build a City of the Sun that never proceeded beyond the blueprint?

Eighteenth-Century Creation Stories

Hermetic ideas from the Emerald Tablet turn up in the early eighteenth century in the writings of alchemists such as Urban Hjärne (1641–1724), Magnus Gabriel von Block (1669–172?), and Johan Gottschalk Wallerius (1709–1785). In these writings they describe the principles of creation by means of Hermetic

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metaphors of light, selected in order to support the idea of tight connections between the three spheres of nature: the plant, mineral, and animal kingdoms. These thinkers belonged to the last generations in Sweden who used Hermetic ideas as an inspiration for writing works of natural science.

References

Campanella, Tommaso, Ecloga Christianissimis Regi et Reginae in portentosam Delphin nativitatem, Paris: 1638–1639, in: Luigi Firpo (ed.), Tutte le Opere di Tommaso Cam­ panella, Milano, 1954. Blok, Frans Felix, Isaac Vossius and his Circle: His Life until His Farewell to Queen Christina of Sweden 1618–1655, Groningen: Egbert Forsten, 2000. Dickson, Donald, The Tessera of Antilia: Utopian Brotherhoods and Secret Societies in the Early Seventeenth Century, Leiden: Brill, 1998. Ebeling, Florian, The Secret History of Hermes Trismegistus: Hermeticism from Ancient to Modern Times, Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 2007. Lindroth, Sten, Paracelsismen i Sverige till 1600-talets mitt, Uppsala: Lychnos-bibliotek 7, 1943. ——— . Svensk Lärdomshistoria. Vol. 4, Part 2, Stormaktstiden, Stockholm: Norstedts, 1975–1981. Menius, Friedrich, Pandora sophica, Ms. P 8, Uppsala: Uppsala University Library. ——— . Consensus hermetico-mosaicus, Uppsala, 1646. Nordström, Johan (ed.), Samlade skrifter av Georg Stiernhielm. 2 vols. Stockholm: Albert Bonniers förlag, 1924. ———. “Fredrich Menius: En äventyrlig Dorpatprofessor och hans glömda insats i det engelska komediantdramats historia”, Samlaren Ny Följd, Årgång 2 (1921), 42–91. Purver, Marjory, The Royal Society: Concept and Creation, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1967. Skytte, Bengt, Sol praeciparium linguarum sub solarium, Stockholm: Royal Library. Stiernhielm, Mss. Fd 3, 5, 6, 9, Stockholm: Royal Library. Van Heertum, Cis, Philosophia Symbolica: Johannes Reuchlin and the Kabbalah, Amster­ dam: In de Pelikaan, 2005.

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Chapter 25 Human Potential

The Human Potential Movement in Scandinavia Liselotte Frisk1

Introduction

The Human Potential Movement arose in the 1960s in the USA. It had its roots in humanistic psychology, which presented a view of human beings as living far below their natural capacities. Important founding figures were Abraham Maslow (1908–1970), Carl Rogers (1902–1987), and Rollo May (1909–1994). The Human Potential Movement was, however, much more practically oriented than humanistic psychology. A central institution closely connected to it was the Esalen Institute in California, founded in 1962. As with all cultural currents, it is difficult to define precisely which phenomena belong inside and which outside of this movement, especially as it has interacted with other cultural currents and changed over time. Most importantly, it interacted with New Thought currents (inherited from the middle of the nineteenth century) and later, during the 1980s, 1990s and up to the present day with various New Age currents. For the present purposes, six central characteristics can be seen as defining the Human Potential Movement, and the contemporary heritage of the Human Potential Movement in Scandinavia is traced by focusing on cultural currents where these characteristics are present. 1. At the core of the Human Potential Movement is the ideological framework borrowed from humanistic psychology that focuses on human potential. Each individual is taken to have the capacity to attain total mental health and self-actualisation, to be authentic and free from inner and outer restraints such as defence mechanisms and social roles. Especially from the end of the 1960s, * This chapter is partly based on original research, interviews with key individuals in the Scandinavian therapeutic milieus, and on the generous assistance of researchers in the various Nordic countries. Interviews were conducted with Lena Kristina Tuulse on 1 Nov 2007, Øyvind Solum on 21 Nov 2007, Torbjörn Fjällström on 27 Sep 2007, Isabella Söderström, Baravara, on 6 Dec 2007 and Anna Maria Norén on 30 Jan 2008. Responses by e-mail from Isabella Söderström (Baravara, dated 11 Dec 2007) and Osho Risk (dated 5 Jan 2008) are gratefully acknowledged. For the situation in Denmark, I particularly wish to thank Mikkel Pade. Jussi Sohlberg has provided information on the situation in Finland.

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this ideological component was integrated with more religious views, mainly borrowed from Eastern religions. 2. The expression of emotions through catharsis is seen as healthy for the individual. Emotions, especially specific emotions such as anger, are conceived of as constrained by social forces and therefore often suppressed. Ideally, in the therapeutic situation the individual is allowed to act out all emotions, shouting and weeping, and losing all inhibitions. According to this view, neurosis is the result of being out of touch with one’s own true feelings. 3. Body therapies are a central component of the Human Potential movement. Discovering more about the self by developing a greater awareness of how the body moves and feels is crucial. Memories of physical and emotional traumas can in this perspective be triggered by manipulating the affected part of the body. 4. Focus on here-and-now is encouraged. The therapies of the Human Poten­tial Movement focus on the present instead of searching through the past for the causes of various problems. 5. Another hallmark of the Human Potential Movement is the use of group therapy. Therapy is often conducted as a group process instead of on a one-toone basis between patient and therapist. Feedback from and encounter with the group is seen as essential. 6. Syncretism. The founders of Esalen, Michael Murphy (b. 1930) and Richard Price (1930–1985), wanted to establish a centre for the exploration of new ideas, and did not wish to promote any particular school or discipline. The guiding principle for them was synthesis – the flowing together of East and West, the ancient and the modern, science and religion, scholarship and art. This mixture of different elements has been characteristic for the whole Human Potential Movement. At Esalen, the characteristics described above were during the 1960s to a great extent expressed in therapies such as gestalt therapy and encounter. These therapies had their predecessors in Europe in the beginning of the twentieth century (e.g., psychodrama), but came into full blossom at Esalen under therapists such as Fritz Perls (1893–1970) and William Schutz (1925–2002). Later on, the same characteristics were expressed in the New Age milieu, often in less intense forms of therapy such as rebirthing and body harmony. At present (2014), the terms human potential and the Human Potential Movement are not much used. According to a questionnaire distributed to holistic or alternative therapists in the Danish city of Aarhus (Ahlin 2007) as many as 48 % of the respondents had not heard of the Human Potential Movement at all, and only 9 % considered it important for their practice. As a comparison, 70 % suggested that holism was important for their practice, 53 %

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similarly found the chakra concept important and 33 % had the same opinion regarding clairvoyance. Figures were somewhat higher for some of the important individuals in the Human Potential Movement. Abraham Maslow, Wilhelm Reich (1897–1957), Stanislav Grof (b. 1931), and Fritz Perls were considered to be of medium importance for inspiration, while people like Deepak Chopra (b. 1946) and C.G. Jung (1875–1961) were considered of great importance (Ahlin 2007).

The Human Potential Movement in the Nordic Countries

In the Nordic countries the Human Potential Movement has today to a great extent entered into and mixed with the broader New Age. Some of the key persons of the present-day New Age milieu claim that they see no difference between the Human Potential Movement and the New Age, since the New Age also focuses on the idea of innate human potential. Contemporary successors of the human potential body therapies tend to be a bit gentler than their Human Potential counterparts, an example of this being the therapy known as body harmony. Gestalt therapy has generally become more established, and tends to focus more on the individual than on group sessions, and is less focused on catharsis than it was under its founder Perls. The Gestalt Academy in Scandinavia, which was founded in 1976 in Stockholm, is now affiliated with a British university, the Derby University, and today gives university courses in the subject on a Master’s level. Gestalt therapy in Norway and Finland also has an academic connection, while in Denmark human potential activities seem to be more influenced by various forms of New Age than in the other Nordic countries. Generally, the Human Potential Movement in the Nordic countries appears to have developed in three directions: 1. There are so-called growth centres and individual therapists which to varying degrees focus on activities where the human potential characteristics outlined above are central. Many human potential-inspired therapists, however, mix these influences with various New Age currents. In each country, there have been key individuals who because of their interests and activities have been instrumental in this development. 2. From ca. 1975 therapies from the Human Potential Movement were integrated and used in the New Religious Movement formed around the charismatic Indian leader Osho (1931–1990), at that time called Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh. Several key people affiliated with the Human Potential Movement converted to the Osho movement, and with them many of their clients followed into the

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movement. The Osho movement became known for taking these therapies to greater extremes than in the Human Potential Movement sensu stricto, and one of the founders of Esalen, Richard Price, came to criticise the way in which Human Potential-inspired therapies were used in the Osho movement. Today, however, the Osho movement and its successors have become some of the main expressions of the Human Potential Movement. 3. Some characteristics important in the Human Potential Movement have entered into mainstream culture. The focus on the individual and on the creative potential of the individual have during the last decade become central in elements of mainstream culture, which if not directly deriving from the Human Potential Movement, were strengthened and influenced by it. Gestalt perspectives are today present in some mainstream psychotherapeutic and organisational activities and in education. In the medical domain, the patient-centred perspective has come into focus, as has the student-centred perspective in learning. Similarly, perspectives from the Human Potential Movement could be recognised in the rehabilitation of criminals, addiction and in dependency therapies, as well as in various contemporary psychological therapeutic techniques as mindfulness (which are also inspired by Buddhism). The remainder of this chapter will focus on the first two directions, which have developed in different ways in the various Nordic countries. Inevitably, the representation will focus on a small selection of individuals. Many more could have been mentioned, but the selection made here has the advantage of avoiding a mere listing of names.

Sweden

Influences from the Human Potential Movement first came to Sweden via the universities, where the new currents became part of the social sciences in the mid to late 1960s. Already at that time there were gestalt therapists and practitioners of sensitivity training (a kind of group therapy) in Sweden. In 1971 an academic society for group therapy was formed, closely affiliated with Stockholm University. Here many social scientists participated in workshops with therapies such as Janov’s (b. 1924) primal therapy, psychodrama, and gestalt therapy. In 1976 a growth centre, Galleri Medmera, was founded in Stockholm by a group of eight people. Lena Kristina Tuulse (b. 1943), who was to become the front figure for the Human Potential Movement in Sweden, was one of them. Tuulse had been active in this environment for a few years, and was at that time engaged as a gestalt therapist and also worked with body therapies. After

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some time, she took over the leadership of Galleri Medmera, now renaming it Wäxthuset Galleri Medmera. It existed in Stockholm until 1979. Also in 1976, she started Wäxthuset on Väddö some distance from Stockholm, a therapy centre which was also residential. In 1986, another residential therapy centre was bought in the close neighbourhood. The human potential environment in Sweden has been greatly influenced by Lena Kristina Tuulse with her growth centre Wäxthuset. One of her key interests has been rebirthing (a breathing technique sometimes described as a milder form of primal therapy), which has been the most important therapy at Wäxthuset since 1978, when the founder Leonard Orr (b. 1938) for the first time visited Sweden. Wäxthuset was sold in 2010 and today functions as an addiction treatment centre, combining conventional addictment treatments with techniques from the Human Potential Movement. Lena Kristina Tuulse is today working with a foundation called Life University, which is a centre focused on healing and cultural activities, for people who wish to connect to nature and develop their own inner potential. Tomas Frankell (b. 1957) is another key person in the alternative milieu in Sweden, although he has been more influenced by other currents than by the Human Potential Movement. At the end of the 1970s he came into contact with human potential currents through Janov’s primal therapy and Barbara Findeisen’s STAR (Self Analysis Towards Awareness Rebirth, a group therapy which includes emotional catharsis and primal sessions) at Galleri Medmera. Tomas Frankell has launched several centres in Stockholm, which on their programmes combined varying amounts of human potential activities, lectures and courses, with New Age activities. The first of these centres was Café Vega, followed by Café Pan in 1984, Deva center in 1991, and Gaia center in 1996. Only Deva center still existed at the time of writing. The Osho movement came to Sweden in 1978, and formally affiliated Osho centres existed in Stockholm between 1981 and the year 2000. The Osho movement was between these years one of the main ways by which therapies originating from or inspired by the Human Potential Movement were present in Sweden. Due to economical difficulties and a diminishing general interest, the last centre closed in the year 2000. A characteristic development in the Nordic countries is, however, the creation of Osho-inspired institutes with no formal connection to the international Osho movement. These institutes have developed in different directions. The largest of these is Baravara in Dalarna, founded in 1999 by Lars and Helena Knutsson, both of whom were initiated into the Osho movement. Around 1,000 people attend residential courses there each year (2007). Baravara is clearly oriented towards the Osho-inspired part of the Human Potential Movement, and offers courses with internationally

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well-known Osho-related therapists. Ängsbacka in Värmland was founded in 1996, also by Osho disciples, but is more eclectic and New Age-inspired, although human potential currents are also strong. Ängsbacka is well-known for the residential festival each summer, which lasts for one week, and which attracts around 1,000 people. Mullingstorp near the southern Swedish city of Norrköping was founded in 1985 by the medical doctor Bengt Stern (1930– 2002), and also offers Osho-inspired courses. Hällungen on the west coast is connected to a Dutch-based movement derived from the Osho movement, called the Humaniversity.

Denmark

In Denmark there has since the 1920s existed a therapeutic tradition focused on deep relaxation, and in the beginning of the 1960s a centre for the practice of this therapeutic method, Afspændingspædagogisk Institut, was founded in Copenhagen. In 1975 the centre changed its name to Skolen for Kropsdynamik (School for Body Dynamics). This school was inspired by the Norwegian therapist Lillemor Johnsen (1920–1997), who in her turn was inspired by the Reichian tradition in Norway. Her tradition was in Denmark developed by Danish therapist Lisbeth Marcher. In 1982 she founded Bodynamic Institut, which has since then offered a variety of courses inspired by the Human Potential Movement. In Denmark, the human potential currents seem to have integrated with the New Age currents to an even greater extent than in Sweden. One key person in this milieu is Jes Bertelsen (b. 1946), who in 1982 together with his wife Hanne founded Vækstcentret in the village of Nørre Snede, a residential centre where around sixty adults and fifteen children lived in 1995, the latest date for which there is any available information. Bertelsen, who had a university career as lecturer in the history of ideas, left the university in connection with creating Vækstcentret. He has written several books about depth psychology, and is inspired by C.G. Jung in his thinking. A central aspect of his practice is dream interpretation. Another source of inspiration for Bertelsen is the Irish healer Bob Moore, who lived in Denmark for several years. Bertelsen is not a pure representative for the Human Potential Movement, but it is one of his sources of inspiration. There are also several therapists associated with the Human Potential Movement. One example is Ole Vedfelt, who together with his wife Lene started the Institut for Integreret Psykoterapi og Kybernetisk Psykologi (Insti­ tute for Integrated Psychotherapy and Cybernetic Psychology) in 1995. Vedfelt is trained in Jungian psychoanalysis, gestalt therapy, psychodrama, body

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therapy, and meditation. Another example is Klaus Gormsen, a therapist in the Grof-inspired method Gensidig Terapi (Re-evaluating Councelling or Co-coun­ selling), in which two people share difficult experiences and encourage each other to go through them. The Osho movement has since 1986 operated a large residential centre in Jutland in Denmark, called Osho Risk. Unlike the institutes in Sweden, Osho Risk is closely affiliated with the international Osho movement in Pune, India. Around seventy to eighty people have settled in villages near Osho Risk in order to be near the various activities on offer at the centre. Around 400–500 people participate in activities there every year.

Norway

The Human Potential Movement in Norway has been strongly influenced by Wilhelm Reich (1897–1957) who lived and worked in Norway for several years during the 1930s as a refugee from Germany. Because of Reich – who worked with orgone energy, a vital energy that he suggested flowed unhindered through the bodies of neurosis-free individuals – there has been a large psychotherapeutic and body therapeutic milieu in Norway from a very early date. The tradition of energy work and body therapy has continued to be strong in Norway. Two major figures inspired by Reich are Odd and Lois Reiserøl, who founded a centre in Oslo, Solvervcenter (Solstice Centre), in 1977. Lois Reiserøl is American by birth, and was also influenced by the American Human Potential Movement. At present they work with primal therapy, psychodrama, breathing, and vegetotherapy (a therapy which originated with Wilhelm Reich), as well as with other forms of therapy. Mandala Senter, started by Harald and Benedicte Thiis in 1978 in Trondheim has also been very important for the human potential-inspired milieu in Norway. They work with various forms of therapy, creativity, healing, dreams, and meditation. Many later human potential activities have been inspired by this centre, such as Norsk Psykodramaskola (Norwegian Psychodrama School, found­ed in 1986). In the 1980s there was also a lecture and course activity called Forum 2000 (founded by Sven Bjørk) which introduced several lecturers from the milieu surrounding Esalen, e.g., Fritjof Capra (b. 1939) and Peter Russell (b. 1946). The bimonthly magazine Visjon (previously Alternativt Nettverk) was founded in 1992 by Øyvind Solum, and is more clearly inspired by the Human Potential Movement than the New Age periodicals published in the other Nordic countries.

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There is no residential Osho centre in Norway as there for example is in Denmark, and no Osho-inspired retreat centres as in Sweden. There are some Osho activities, but on a smaller scale.

Finland

The research situation in Finland regarding the Human Potential Movement is unfortunately weak. There are non-residential Osho centres offering therapies, but no residential Osho-related centres such as those found in Denmark or Sweden. Human potential-inspired currents may be even more thoroughly integrated with the larger New Age milieu than in the other Nordic countries, as no interviewee contacted in connection with writing the present chapter was able to relate to the term Human Potential Movement. There are, however, Human Potential-based therapies such as the Silva Method and NLP on offer.

References

Ahlin, Lars, Krop, sind – eller ånd? Alternative behandlere og spiritualitet i Danmark, Højbjerg: Forlaget Univers, 2007. Frankell, Tomas, Sökare i en ny tid: Min väg genom nyandlighetens Sverige, Stockholm: Natur & Kultur, 2002. Frisk, Liselotte, De nya religiösa rörelserna – vart tog de vägen? Nora: Nya Doxa, 2007. Hinge, Helle, New Age på dansk: Jes Bergelsen-bevægelsen, Copenhagen: Gyldendal, 1995. Satyarthi, Swami Deva, Kroppens veje 2. En oversigt over forskellige helbredelsesmetoder og terapiformer fra øst og vest – veje til sundhed, følelsesmaessig harmoni og personlig utveckling, Copenhagen: Borgen, 1982. Tuulse, Lena Kristina, Livslust: Vägen till livet och kärleken, Orsa: Energica förlag, 2003.

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Chapter 26 

Jungianism in Scandinavia Suzanne Gieser

Introduction

Since very little research on Jungianism in Scandinavia has been carried out, this chapter largely focuses on the present author’s own area of research, the early reception of C.G. Jung’s works in Sweden, with special reference to his ideas concerning spiritual and existential issues. Some general trends regarding the reception of psychodynamic ideas in the Scandinavian countries can, however, be sketched. Acceptance of these ideas has been very slow, and apart from a handful of pioneering medical doctors at the beginning of the twentieth century (Sigurd Næsgaard [1883–1956], Denmark, Poul Bjerre [1876–1964], Sweden, Johannes Irgens Strømme [1876–1961], Norway, Yrjö Kulovesi [1887–1943], Finland) no real breakthrough was made until the 1960s. Interestingly, almost all the early Scandinavian pioneers preferred the so-called anagogical school, i.e., the school opposed to Freudian psychoanalysis that developed around Jung and Eugen Bleuler in Zürich. This school emphasised a constructive, teleological tendency in the human psyche and a striving for self-healing and inner wholeness, i.e., a perspective that was much more compatible with a spiritual or religious outlook than with Freud. But even early Freudians, like the brothers Harald and Kristian Schjelderup from Norway, were more influenced by the Swiss Protes­tant minister Oskar Pfister’s version of psychoanalysis than by classical psycho­analysis. Pfister was the only psychoanalyst with a positive view of religion who was tolerated by Freud. Harald Schjelderup (1895–1974) together with his brother Kristian (1894–1980), who later became bishop, studied psychoanalysis in the 1920s and 1930s in Vienna and Zürich. Harald became the first professor of Psychology in Norway and founder of the Norwegian Psychoanalytic Society. Perhaps this shows that psychodynamic ideas were only able to reach Scandinavia through a religion-friendly filter. The Norwegian psychiatrist Johannes Irgens Strømme (1876–1961) had a decisive influence on the early reception of Jung’s ideas in Norway and Sweden. Like most of the early inaugurators of psychodynamic ideas, he created his own unique mixture and brand. In his case this was a blend of Jung’s theory of

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neurosis from 1913, Alphonse Maeder’s and Herbert Silberer’s method of dream analysis, and Bleuler’s work therapy and his theory of “mnemistic biopsychology”. The theory of “mnemism” refers to a biogenetic-vitalistic theory that assumes that all organic life is via experiences able to learn from the environment and to pass the acquired knowledge on to following generations as a form of memory (“engrams”), without involving any self-reflecting consciousness. Patterns of stimulus reactions are memorised and reactivated under similar situational circumstances via the psychological mechanism of association. It is likely that C.G. Jung, working under Bleuler during the period 1900–1909, was influenced by this idea when formulating his concept of the archetypes and the collective unconscious. Later in life, Strømme stopped calling himself a psychoanalyst and instead began referring to himself as a “teacher in the Art of Life” (as in his book published in 1932, Sjeledypets sprog [The Language of the Depth of the Soul]). He rejected the concept of mental illness and saw neurosis and other “disorders” as unintegrated experiences and as a language that needs to be interpreted. The patient, in his view, is a pupil who needs retraining. Strømme influenced several people who later introduced Jung’s ideas in Sweden: the two psychiatrists Emmanuel af Geijerstam (1867–1928) and Iwan Bratt (1881–1946), and later the Norwegian psychotherapist (with no medical background) Egil Rønne-Petersen (1904–1978), who was trained by Strømme.

The Early Jung Reception

Iwan Bratt wrote popular books during the 1920s, with titles such as Kultur och neuros (Culture and Neurosis) and Splittring och enhet i människans väsen (Fragmentation and Wholeness in Human Nature). These books are typical examples of the early introduction of Jung’s ideas to a wider public during this period. In the beginning his ideas were never presented as a systematic whole, but rather as individual elements that could be selected and combined with other ideas. Notably, Jung’s views about the important role of religion and the need for wholeness were emphasised. The first Nordic association for psychotherapists, the Nordiskt Psykoterapeutiskt Kollegium, NPK (Nordic Team for Psychotherapy), was founded in 1933 as a forum for analysts who wanted to emphasise the positive and constructive powers of the psyche, a credo that was synonymous with that of the anagogical school. This first inter-Nordic association for psychotherapists had an integrative approach towards the different schools of psychotherapy. Among its members were people like Poul Bjerre, Johannes Irgens Strømme, Iwan and his wife Signe Bratt, Egil Rønne-Petersen,

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and Sigurd Næsgaard. Næsgaard introduced psychoanalysis into Denmark in 1929 and founded the first Association for Psychoanalysis there in 1933. With his version of psychodynamic psychology (a mixture of Freud, Jung, Reich, and Harald Høffding’s philosophy) he soon came into conflict with more orthodox Freudians. He had a strong influence on the Danish novelist, dramatist, and social critic Leif Panduro, who, with his book Rend mig i traditionerne (Kick Me in the Traditions, 1958), influenced many young people in the 1950s and 1960s in Scandinavia. Two of the most central themes in this book are the many possible ways of viewing reality and the question of normality and mental illness as defined by convention and conformity. It is important to remember that from the very beginning the introduction of psycho­dynamic ideas touched upon a wide range of topics outside their medical confines: questions concerning alternative world views, the meaning of life, authenticity, emancipation, and spirituality. In 1956, Eigil Nyborg (1916–2005), the first Danish Jungian analyst trained in Zürich, received his diploma. With his book Den indre linie i H.C. Andersens eventyr (The Inner Line in the Adventures of H.C. Andersen) he introduced analytical psychology as a tool for literary analysis in Denmark, which stirred a considerable public debate. In 1980 the first and still today (2014) the only Jungian Training Institute in Scandinavia was founded in Copenhagen. Jung’s ideas thus reached a wider audience in Sweden through Iwan Bratt’s and Poul Bjerre’s books (Bjerre 1924, 1935). In addition, Oscar A.H. Schmitz’ book Psychoanalysis and Yoga was translated into Swedish in 1925, as Psyko­ analys och yoga. In this book Jung’s psychology is compared to the wisdom of Eastern religions and to their practices. Inspired by The Guild of Pastoral Psychology and the Tavistock Clinic in England, Bjerre founded Institutet för medicinsk psykologi och psykoterapi (the Institute for Medical Psychology and Psychotherapy) in 1946, where Jung’s ideas were taught. The first Swedish Jungian, the theologian Ivar Alm (1897–1973), was active at this Institute for a period. Alm was a student of theology when he first encountered Jung’s ideas and became so taken with them that he decided to write his doctoral thesis (at Uppsala University’s Department of Theology) entitled Den religiösa funktionen i människosjälen (The Religious Function in the Human Soul, 1936), in a Jungian vein. Here he argues that in contrast to the Freudian school, Jung’s psychology shows an understanding of the religious nature of man. Together with the theologian Gösta Nordqvist, and with the support of Bjerre, he initiated Sällskapet för pastoralpsykologi (The Society for Pastoral Psychology) in 1944. He translated some of Jung’s works into Swedish, notably parts of Psychological Types and later Jung’s autobiography Memories, Dreams, Reflec­ tions, and wrote an introductory book called Från Freud till Jung (From Freud to Jung, 1973). He also influenced other theologians at Uppsala University, for

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instance Hjalmar Sundén, who translated Jung’s book Answer to Job into Swedish; a book that led to considerable debate in the Swedish press. Sundén also wrote the first Swedish academic book on the psychology of religion, Religionen och rollerna (Religion and the Roles, 1971), in which he presents Jung’s views on the psychology of visions and the function of rituals in a positive light. Later he published a book in which he uses the concepts of persona, anima, and Self in order to analyse the works of six Swedish authors (Persona och anima: En tillämpning av C.G Jungs psykologi på sex författare, published in 1981). Ivar Alm also influenced the politically active historian Lydia Wahlström (1856–1954), a well-known champion of women’s rights who eventually earned the title of professor. From the mid-1930s, she travelled through Sweden giving anti-Nazi lectures, deriving her arguments from perspectives culled from Adlerian and Jungian psychology. The appeal of Nazism, she argued, is based on a feeling of inferiority among young men, and it is the superior task of women to teach men a more psychological approach to dealing with the problem of opposites. For example, instead of fighting on the battlefield or on the stock exchange, men should learn to reconcile the opposites to be found in their souls. As women have a more developed psychological capacity than men to deal with Eros and sexuality, and are looking for a spiritual connection with their partners and not just a sexual one, this leads women to strive towards a higher consciousness. The consequence of this is that the future of humankind lies in women’s hands, and it is thereby women’s important and cultural task to lead mankind into a New Age. Wahlström was in this respect a forerunner of ideas that have become popular in Jungian pop psychology books relating to men’s and women’s psychology.

Later Developments

In the late 1950s, Egil Rønne-Petersen revived the Nordic association NPK, which had been inactive since the beginning of the Second World War. He gathered a small group around him, said to represent a school of psychodynamic psychology known as Psychogenetics, which included people such as Strømme, Bleuler, Jung, George Groddeck, Wilhelm Reich, Erich Neumann, Leopold Szondi, and Tomas Szasz. He soon became a popular lecturer on topics ranging from sociology, politics, psychiatry, child psychology, anthropology, the crises of culture, the psychology of religion and so on, often with titles like

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“Moderskapets sorti och barnaslaktandets principer i en välfärdsstat av modern suicidaltyp” (The Exit of Motherhood and the Principles of Slaughter of Children in a Welfare State of the Modern Suicidal Type), which deals with the negative influence of divorce and the disintegration of the family in modern society. In a little booklet called Inseminationen Rønne-Petersen published a letter from Jung under the heading “Individualitetens och självaktningens sorti” (The Exit of Individuality and Self-Respect). In this letter Jung answers the question what he thinks about artificial insemination. Jung states that artificial insemination (when the donor is unknown) leaves the child with the psychological problem of being fatherless, much like an adopted or orphaned child. Jung also points out that this way of thinking devaluates human procreation into a kind of ‘cold blooded scientific breeding’ where the breeders decide which racial and other characteristics should be preferred. This all amounts to a ‘catastrophic devaluation of the human individual’ (Jung 1976). The main message seems to be that the modern welfare state – through standardisations of education and state – suffocates the true individual who is searching for an authentic life. Many artists and people belonging to the cultural elite came to listen to him, among others the staff and actors surrounding the famous film director Ingmar Bergman. His vision was no less than ‘Peace, ecological orientation, and the environmental interaction with the unconscious layers, mental hygienic guidelines, the reintegration of family life and the conditions for the global remythologising and rehumanising process with the accompanying expansion of consciousness’ (cited from Encyklo­pædisk koncentrat till Nordiskt Psykoterapeutiskt kollegiums historia, unpublished ms by Egil Rønne-Petersen). In 1972 the first Swedish New Age bookstore, Vattumannen (Aquarius), opened in Uppsala (see the chapter on New Age in Sweden in the present volume). In 1974 it moved to Stockholm, where it has been located ever since. The founders’ main interest was Theosophy, but it wasn’t long before C.G. Jung’s collected works and other Jungian literature could be regularly found on the shelves. In this respect, the development in Sweden follows the same pattern as in other Western countries. Books on how to understand astrology by interpreting the planets and houses as archetypes in the Jungian sense began to be popular. In personal horoscopes the sun can be interpreted as the ego, the Moon as the personal unconscious, Mercury as the cognitive function, and the transit of the planet Pluto as a period of transforming unconscious material (Ljungqvist 1993). The use of tarot cards, and especially the so called twentytwo cards of the greater Arcana, can also be legitimated by seeing them as an archetypal sequence describing the journey of the individuation process, i.e.,

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moving through the stages of life towards wholeness. Laying out the cards is described as mirroring the processes of the soul (Cronstedt 2002). Both in the case of astrology and the tarot cards, Jung’s principle of synchronicity (i.e., an acausal connecting principle based on the emergence of archetypal structures at a certain moment in time) is referred to in order to explain the correspondence between the constellations of the personal horoscope or the “random” laying of cards with one’s actual life situation or challenges. The theory of synchronicity and its relationship to a new “holistic” paradigm in terms of science and world view has been explored in both academic and popular studies (Gieser 1996, 2005; Cederquist 2006). At the beginning of the twenty-first century, the influence of Jung’s ideas in Sweden can be observed in many different fields. This broader influence started in the 1960s with the publication of Jung’s autobiography and the beautifully illustrated anthology Man and His Symbols – both of which became bestsellers. Jungian themes were discussed in a number of books and articles published over the following years, including titles by authors such as Martin Johnson (a Swedish Professor of Parapsychology at the University of Utrecht, the Netherlands, 1973–1988), who analyzed the parapsychological accounts in Jung’s autobiography, and Anna-Brita Ståhl who discussed how to use dreams as a guide in one’s life (Ståhl 1995). The main Swedish New Age magazine, Sökaren (The Seeker), published 1964–2008, carried articles on Jung’s neardeath experiences and many other issues relating to Jung’s “mystical” side.

Jungianism in Sweden: All Time High in the 1990s

In the late 1980s and early 1990s several organisations, such as the C.G. Jung Foundation, were founded around Jungian interests. This foundation was initiated by a few Jungian analysts who gathered around the first practicing Jungian analyst in Sweden, Stina Thyberg (1925–2007). Its purpose is to promote C.G. Jung’s analytical psychology in Sweden by, inter alia, offering courses, seminars, and scholarships for studies and research in analytical psychology. The foundation also published a quarterly, later a yearbook, named Coniunctio, that today (2014) only exists in digital form. In association with the foundation there have emerged smaller local societies collectively known as Friends of the C.G. Jung Foundation, which offer lectures, workshops, and social activities to their members. In 1987 a publishing company with an exclusive focus on Jungian literature was established at the Centrum för Jungiansk Psykologi CJP

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(Centre for Jungian Psychology), with Håkan Raihle as founder. The centre and the publishing company ceased their activities in 2009. In 1992 another institute opened under the name of the Institute for Analytical Psychology, offering academic courses and programmes in Jungian subjects. This institute was founded by a group of young academics with Kurt Almqvist as director. The courses were given in affiliation with Ersta Sköndal University College as a commissioned education and had a strong focus on religious studies and the history of ideas. The institute was in operation for ten years and closed in 2003. At the time of writing (2014) the University College of Gävle is the only academic institution in Sweden offering courses in Jungian psychology (at its Department of Religious Studies). Apart from his influence on various schools of psychotherapy (and especially those with an existential, spiritual or expressive non-verbal direction such as Psychosynthesis, transpersonal psychology, and the Expressive Arts Therapies), Jung’s influence can also be seen in the theological field, the psychology of religion, and religious studies, including sub-fields such as the study of mythology, Western esotericism, mysticism, Gnosticism, and alchemy (Almqvist & Hammer 1999). Jungian ideas have also become influential in the analysis of themes in literature, poetry, and film, among artists, poets, and authors (Rönnerstrand 1993, Almqvist 1998), in the analysis of gender issues (Robert & Uvnäs-Moberg 1994), in sociological concerns relating to violence and the need for meaning and myth among young people today (Carlberg 2007), in groups interested in female spirituality and in women’s support groups (Junus 1995). In management, leadership, and teamwork, Jung’s typological model is considered by some to be a valuable working tool. People interested in Jungian ideas thus come from very different walks of life and range from academic scholars, business people, and artists to amateurs interested in New Age spirituality and alternative thinking. The overall picture is that although Jung and Jungian ideas inspire many different areas and are combined with other ideas and influences in an eclectic fashion, Jung is rarely studied in detail as a coherent spiritual thinker. In many ways, the reception of Jung in Sweden is comparable with his reception and development in other Western countries. What is noteworthy when it comes to the reception of Jung and Jungianism in Sweden is its early foothold in the theological community.

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References

Alm, Ivar, Den religiösa funktionen i människosjälen, Stockholm: Svenska kyrkans diakonistyrelsens bokförlag, 1936. ——— . Från Freud till Jung: några kapitel ur djuppsykologiens historia, Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1973. Almqvist, Kurt (ed.), Jung och litteraturen, Stockholm: Natur och Kultur, 1998. Almqvist, Kurt and Olav Hammer (eds.), Jung och det andliga, Stockholm: Natur och Kultur, 1999. Bjerre, Poul, Psykoanalysen – dess uppkomst, omvandlingar och tillämpning, Stockholm: Natur och Kultur, 1924. ——— . Själsläkekonst och Själavård, Stockholm: Bonnier, 1935. Björkhem, Örjan and Martin Johnson, Parapsykologi och övertro, Stockholm: Forum, 1986. Bratt, Iwan, Kultur och Neuros, Stockholm: n.p., 1925. ——— . Splittring och enhet i människans väsen, Stockholm: Natur och Kultur, 1927. Carlberg, Anders, Generationsklyftan hotar demokratin, Stockholm: Hjalmarson & Högberg, 2007. Cederquist, Jan, Slumpen är ingen tillfällighet, Lidingö: Langenskjöld, 2006. Cronstedt, Marie-Louise, Tarot: levande symboler, Grödinge: Algiz, 2002. Edholm, Mats, Carl-Gustav Jung: hans inflytande i Sverige: en psykologihistorisk undersökning, Unpublished paper, Dept. of Applied Psychology, Uppsala University, 1981. Junus, Petra, Den levande gudinnan: kvinnoidentitet och religiositet som förändringsprocess, Nora: Nya Doxa, 1995. Gieser, Suzanne, Den innersta kärnan. Djuppsykologi och kvantfysik: Wofgang Paulis dialog med C.G. Jung (Uppsala). Ph.D. dissertation, Uppsala University, 1995. ———. The Innermost Kernel, Depth Psychology and Quantum Physics: Wolfgang Pauli’s Dialogue with C.G. Jung, Berlin: Springer, 2005. ———. “Jung i Sverige”, Coniunctio 2008: årsbok för analytisk psykologi och kultur (2008), 151–168. ——— . “Jungintroduktören Ivar Alm”, Coniunctio 2009: årsbok för analytisk psykologi och Kultur (2009), 59–74. Hjort, Stig Dankert, Sigurd Næsgaard: Det naturlige menneske, København: Gyldendal, 1988. Ljungqvist, Hans, Jung och astrologin, Västerås: Solrosen, 1993. Rajamaa, Ruth, “Sverige möter Jung”, Coniunctio 2008: årsbok för analytisk psykologi och kultur (2008), 169–188. Robèrt, Rigmor and Kerstin Uvnäs Moberg, Hon & han, Stockholm: Bromberg, 1994. Rønne-Petersen, Egil (ed.), Inseminationen: experiment med människolivet, Stockholm: Norstedt, 1953.

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——— . Encyklopædisk koncentrat till Nordiskt Psykoterapeutiskt kollegiums historia. Unpublished, archive at Nansenskolan, Lillehammer, Norway. Rönnerstrand, Torsten, Arketyperna och litteraturen: om arketypbegreppet i litteratur och litteraturanalys, Malmö: Gleerup, 1993. Schmitz, Oscar A.H., Psykoanalys och yoga, Stockholm: Natur och Kultur, 1925. Ståhl, Anna-Britta, Drömmens bilder: jungiansk drömtolkning, Täby: Larson, 1995. Strømme, Johannes Irgens, Sjeledypets sprog, Oslo: Fabritius, 1932. Sundén, Hjalmar, Persona och anima: en tillämpning av C.G. Jungs psykologi på sex författare: Karlfeldt, Strindberg, Camus, Lagerkvist, Heliga Birgitta, Mora-prosten Jacob Boëthius, Stockholm: Proprius, 1981. ———. Religionen och rollerna: ett psykologiskt studium av fromheten, 5th ed., Stockholm: Verbum, 1971 [1st ed. 1959].

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Chapter 27

Chapter 27 Kabbalah in Denmark

Kabbalah in Denmark Sara Møldrup Thejls

From Tycho Brahe and Ole Borch to Ben Kadosh: The Renaissance to the Twentieth Century

The history of Kabbalah in Denmark is rather short compared to that of most other parts of Europe. During the Renaissance, Christian kabbalists in the rest of Europe held the Jewish Kabbalah in high esteem and considered it to be part of the perennial philosophy so eagerly sought. It was even seen as a method whereby the truth of Christianity could be proved, and kabbalistic speculations concerning the Hebrew alphabet and the divine names were used by the Christian kabbalists to provide proof for the superiority of the Christian God and Jesus Christ. Together with the Corpus Hermeticum and Platonic texts, kabbalistic treatises such as the Sefer ha Zohar, Sefer ha Bahir, and the Shaarei Orah were considered to reveal the esoteric foundation of Christianity and the secrets of nature. For intellectuals like Marsilio Ficino, Pico della Mirandola, Johannes Reuchlin, Jacob Boehme, Giordano Bruno, and John Dee, Kabbalah thus played a crucial role. However, in Denmark the contemporary intellectual elite does not appear to have shown any interest in the kabbalistic doctrines, in spite of a great interest in the Hebrew Bible among Danish theologians in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Nor do Danish esotericists appear to have had much interest in the Hebrew language and texts. Even Tycho Brahe, who was well versed in Hermeticism and Platonism, seemed to completely neglect the existence of kabbalistic material. It seems highly unlikely that he did not know about these doctrines, since he was in contact with both Giordano Bruno and John Dee. Furthermore, he spent the last years of his life employed by the Holy Roman Emperor Rudolph II in Prague, who was renowned for his interest in esoteric subjects, including Kabbalah. The absence of kabbalistic material thus seems more like a conscious choice than mere ignorance. However, a thorough examination of the archives in the Danish Royal Library might reveal a hitherto unknown interest in Kabbalah by the Renaissance scholars. The first mention of Kabbalah in Danish literature is a refutation of Kabba­ lah written by Ole Borch (Olaus Borrichius, 1626–1690), De cabala characterali dissertatio published in 1649. Though a persistent defender of Hermeticism and Paracelsianism, he dismissed Kabbalah as being an accomplice of the

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devil. This hostility towards Kabbalah may have been due to Borch’s need to please the theologians at his university. Borch maintained close contacts with the Italian alchemist Guiseppe Francesco Borri (1627–1695), who lived in Copenhagen from 1664 to 1670. Borch had apparently met Borri during his study years in Amsterdam, and they both held Paracelsianism and Hermeticism in high esteem. Borri even dedicated one of his later medical works to Borch, Hyppocrates chymicus seu specimina quinque chimiae Hyppocraticae a Francesco Josepho Burrho recognita, published in Cologne in 1690. Contrary to Borch, Borri would refer to part of his ideas as “Gabala”, mainly applying the term Gabala to alchemical practices of a magical nature. However, as was often the case with alchemical-kabbalistic speculations in general, Borri’s magical-alchemical universe populated with supernatural beings is not directly connected to Kabbalah as such. His use of the term may thus be regarded as an appeal to the authenticity and authority of Kabbalah. In the next centuries there does not seem to be much interest in kabbalistic doctrines in Denmark, besides what might have followed the introduction of Freemasonry in Denmark in 1743. Again, it is conceivable that kabbalistic interest in this period merely remains undocumented. By the end of the nineteenth century, Kabbalah in Denmark was mainly connected to the growing occult milieu and to various Rosicrucian, masonic, and Martinist societies which all borrowed kabbalistic concepts in authorising their mythical narratives. A central figure of these movements was Carl William Hansen (1872–1936), also known as Ben Kadosh, who was the leading person of many of the thriving initiatory societies in Denmark at the beginning of the twentieth century. As is often the case in occultist Kabbalah, Hansen merely used Kabbalah as an authoritative point of reference and his knowledge of Kabbalah probably derived from French occultism, primarily Eliphas Lévi.

New Age Kabbalah

During the late 1980s, knowledge of and interest in Kabbalah spread beyond the occultist societies to be more widely adopted in the spiritual milieu in Denmark. Whereas Kabbalah in the occultist and masonic inspired groups was perceived to be an ancient doctrine of initiatic and magical wisdom, the New Age understanding was, perhaps unsurprisingly, very different. It was still perceived to be of an ancient origin but usually in a much more eclectic setting emphasising the universality of the kabbalistic teachings. The focus on the Hebrew language which is still to some extent present in occultist Kabbalah

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has almost entirely disappeared in the New Age adaptation. Only a few Hebrew concepts have been integrated into the common religious language of the New Age milieu, often without any knowledge of their original meanings and thus the significance of these terms has changed considerably. An example of this type is found in the Kamadon Academy, a group of Australian origin which has teachers and followers all over the world, including Scandinavia. In Denmark there are about a handful of teachers who often combine the Kamadon ­teaching with other kinds of New Age practices. How many students they h­ave is unknown. According to the Kamadon Academy, a term such as “the Merkabah” is not just a heavenly chariot as the Jewish Merkabah mystics stated, but a rotating energy field of light, surrounding the body of every human being. The Kamadon Academy teaches a spiritual healing technique called the Melchizedek Method. The Academy was established in 1997 by the spiritual teacher Alton Kamadon, who allegedly received the teaching from the ascended master Thoth/ Enoch. This teaching was supposedly practised first by the Cetaceans (that is, the dolphins and whales) in the temples of Atlantis. Kamadon is said to have been in continuous contact with The Ascended Masters, The Angelic Realms, Lord Sananda, and Lord Melchizedek in the Inter­galactic Council of the Great White Brotherhood. He also had memories of his deep connection to the ancient Mystery Schools of Lemuria, Atlantis, and Egypt. The main teaching concerns the activation of one’s 33rd degree Adam Kadmon Light Body, also called the Zohar Body. This is said to enhance the person’s spiritual awareness and provide healing abilities, and it is connected to the rotating light field surrounding everyone’s body, the Merkabah mentioned above. One of the objectives of the Kamadon Academy is to draw down the presently etheric “Kamadon Temple” which is said to be the temple of the soul of Adam Kadmon and where the higher spiritual education takes place. According to Kamadon, Kabbalah is the science of “many universes of higher intelligence”, that is, a kind of primordial science transmitted by the beneficial higher civilisations throughout the universe. It is a teaching which has to be revealed to man directly by an emissary or angel of YHWH. Judging from the texts of the Kamadon Academy, it seems evident that the followers do not have any direct knowledge of the Jewish kabbalistic sources from which they borrow their terminology. They merely use and adapt powerfully laden words en vogue in the New Age milieu. These words and phrases are used to provide the teaching with the necessary authority and thus the kabbalistic terms stand side by side with references to Zen, yin and yang, Indian Mantras, Theosophical ascended masters, and so on.

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The Kabbalah Centre and the Hermetic School of Kabbalah

In Denmark there are only a few established groups that explicitly base themselves on kabbalistic teachings, at least two of which are widespread inter­national groups. The most well-known of these is the Kabbalah Centre founded by Rav Philip Berg. The centre in its present form was established in the United States in 1965, but according to Berg the lineage of his teachings comes from the kabbalistic circles revolving around the prominent Lurianic kabbalist Rav Yehuda Ashlag who taught in Israel from 1922 to his death in 1954. Whereas the Kabbalah of Ashlag was an exclusively Jewish prerogative, the teachings of the Kabbalah Centre have become more universal. Thus it is not necessary to be Jewish to take part of their courses and even though the Hebrew language plays a major role, mastery of the language is not essential. The reason for this is that, according to the Kabbalah Centre the power of the Hebrew text does not lie in its meaning but in its visual form. Thus every single letter is seen to possess an inherent spiritual efficacy and to benefit from it one only needs to look at it and meditate upon the written names of God. For Berg, Kabbalah is a spiritual tool given to the whole of humanity in order to unify the world. The focus of the teachings of the Centre revolves around the seventytwo names of God and one of the major texts of Kabbalah, the Zohar. Even though academic scholarship established long ago that the main authorship of the Zohar belongs to the medieval kabbalist Moses de Leon (ca. 1250–1305), the Kabbalah Centre holds on to the mythical authorship of the book, namely the first century rabbi Shimeon bar Yohai. The centre has in recent years become widely popular, especially in the United States, South America, and Israel where they have several “world centres”. In Denmark they tried to establish a study group, but this initiative seems to have failed. Inspired by the occultist Kabbalah of Israel Regardie and Dion Fortune on the one hand and Theosophy on the other, a new school of Kabbalah has recently been founded in Denmark called The Hermetic School of Kabbalah. This organisation is an extension of The School of Living Kabbalah which was established in 1999, and both organisations were founded by London-born astrologer Derek Seagrief (b. 1952). Seagrief came to Denmark in 1978 and has worked fulltime with astrology, tarot readings and tarot workshops, personal development and art since then. He gives workshops and courses on how to combine art, astrology, tarot, and Kabbalah as a means of personal growth and development throughout Scandinavia and England. His focus is the interpretation of Kabbalah, and especially the Tree of Life, from the perspective of

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astrology and the tarot, and he offers different types of workshops and correspondence courses.

Erwin Neutzsky-Wulff

The final person to be mentioned is Erwin Neutzsky-Wulff (b. 1949), a Danish occultist and writer of science fiction novels with an underlying kabbalistic structure. The chapters in his works are often arranged according to the ten sefirot and some can be interpreted with the explicit use of gematria. Besides novels, Neutzsky-Wulff has written books on magic and occultism, culminating in 2004 with the major work Det overnaturlige (The Supernatural), which is a wide-ranging presentation of the author’s theory of religion. The book is called the ultimate grimoire and is said to function as the theoretical guide to transcendence and the supernatural. In Neutzsky-Wulff’s view, our perception of reality and the transcendent realm is a purely cognitive phenomenon. This means that everything, according to Neutzsky-Wulff, is a product of our brain, and thus we project and create our own reality. However, the transcendent reality is perceived as being more “true” or “real” than what we usually term reality. This is where Kabbalah becomes relevant to Neutzsky-Wulff. The ten sefirot are seen as a map of the cognitive universe, that is, the transcendent realm, and a proper knowledge of Kabbalah provides the person with the means to navigate in this neurological landscape. The different sefirot are even seen as symbols for the different centres of the brain. In this way, the mystic who climbs the sefirotic tree moves deeper into the brain and beyond mere sensual perception and further towards higher knowledge, as represented by the three highest sefirot. Compared with most other kabbalistic exponents in Denmark, Neutzsky-Wulff is an exception in the sense that he actually knows the Hebrew language and makes use of original kabbalistic texts. This is rarely the case with more typically New Age types of religiosity, where Kabbalah is almost exclusively referred to as an ancient, authoritative teaching and bearer of esoteric wisdom – but the kabbalistic material itself is hardly ever touched upon. Generally speaking, the history of Kabbalah, both Jewish and non-Jewish, in Denmark has received only the scantest attention from scholars, and thus this chapter can only give a tentative account of the subject as further research is highly needed.

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References

Borch, Ole, De cabala characterali dissertation, Copenhagen, 1649. Borri, Guiseppe Francesco, La Chiave Gabinetto, Cologne, 1681. ——— . Hyppocrates Chymicus seu Chyniae Hyppocraticae Specimina quinque a F.I.B. recognita et Olao Borrichio dedicate, Cologne, 1690. Byberg, Peder Madsen and Bjarne Salling Pedersen, “Den hellige søn – en biografisk skitse”, in: Peder Madsen Byberg and Bjarne Salling Pedersen (eds.), Den ny morgens gry: Lucifer-Hiram: Verdensbygmesterens genkomst, Copenhagen/ Hafnia, 2006. Faxneld, Per, “The Strange Case of Ben Kadosh: A Luciferian Pamphlet from 1906 and Its Current Renaissance”, Aries: Journal for the Study of Western Esotericism, 11:1 (2011), 1–22. Fink-Jensen, Morten, “Ole Borch mellem naturlig magi og moderne naturvidenskab”, Historisk Tidsskrift, 100:1 (2000), 35–67. Neutzsky-Wulff, Erwin, Det overnaturlige, Copenhagen: Borgens Forlag, 2004. Thejls, Sara Møldrup, “Erwin Neutzsky-Wulff and the Neurological Landscape of the Sefirot”, in: Boaz Huss, Marco Pasi and Kocku von Stuckrad (eds.), Kabbalah and Modernity, Leiden: Brill Academic Publishers, 2010, 301–325. ——— . “Exploring Contemporary Kabbalah: Divine Names, Dolphins and Sexual Magic”, AURA: Tidskrift för akademiska studier av nyreligiositet, 2 (2010), 63–105.

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Chapter 28

Chapter 28 Kabbalah in Sweden

Kabbalah in Sweden Thomas Karlsson The Swedish esotericist Johannes Bureus (1568–1652) is the first person to use the word Kabbalah in the Swedish language; furthermore, he viewed himself as a kabbalist. During the late autumn of 1613 King Gustavus Adolphus and Johannes Bureus were travelling through Sweden to organise the new printing of the Bible. When they, on 5 December of that year, found themselves in Tuna in the province of Dalarna, Bureus was overwhelmed by what he described as ‘a moment of excitement’. The time was 6.22 in the morning and Bureus heard a voice singing ‘Close up the streams young boy, because the meadows have drunk themselves full’, ‘RIVos IaM CLaVDe pVer sat prata bIberVnt’. In these words the Roman numerals for 1673 are hidden, and Bureus interpreted this to mean that the world was to end that year. What took place in 1613 would forever influence Bureus, and after the experience in Dalarna he would take on the role as one initiated into the mysteries, a prophet in the middle of a blind world. At this stage in his career, Bureus was inclined to have mystical experiences; for several years he had studied esoteric teachings such as astrology, magic, and Kabbalah. From his diary entries we find out that he ‘began to enjoy the Kabbalah’ in 1591 when he was reading the magical text Arbatel. From then on, Bureus developed his own esoteric system centred around the runes, but based on the structure of the Kabbalah. He referred to this system as a Nordic Kabbalah.

Johannes Bureus and the Nordic Kabbalah

Johannes Bureus is the most important non-Jewish Swedish kabbalist. Bureus was a driving force in Gothicism, an ideology that associated the legendary Gothic tribes with the Swedes in order to emphazise the powerful history of the Swedish nation. In Bureus’ work, older Gothicism from the sixteenth century along with runic and linguistic research blended with his strong interest in all forms of esotericism: astrology, magic, alchemy, and above all Kabbalah. Bureus would re-interpret the legends about the Goths so that they would not merely lend glory to the history of Sweden, but also provide an individual path of illumination. Johannes Bureus did groundbreaking work for structuring

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Swedish grammar, but he was moreover a great pioneer in runology. He published a catalogue of 663 rune stones, which is about one quarter of all rune stones known today, and he developed a runology that was rooted in linguistics, but also incorporated esoteric speculations. Bureus, who lived in Uppsala, was inspired by Agrippa, Paracelsus, Reuchlin, and other well-known esoteric writers. By analogy with the Kabbalah, Bureus became con­vinced that the runes had various different dimensions; they were not only signs used for writing, but also esoteric and magical symbols. He created a Gothic Kabbalah that he referred to as “Kabala Upsalica”, and he called the secret dimension of the runes Adul runes or “Adel” runes. Furthermore, he constructed a symbol that he named Adulruna which contained the fifteen Adul runes. This symbol has certain similarities to the Monas Hieroglyphica of John Dee, which contains all the symbols for the planets. Bureus interpreted the Adulruna as a map of the universe and of the progression of mankind through various layers of existence. Beside the Adulruna, the rune cross is the central symbol of Bureus’ esoteric universe. The vertical rune row of the cross is one of the most important parts of his system; these runes illustrate a seven-step initiatory process that can move upward (ascensus) and downward (descensus). Bureus explains how the Son of God descends and is born as a man following this path, but that he also ascends to heaven through the very same path. The mediator in this process is Christ, who is equated with the Norse god Odin. In the Cabbalistica this sevenfold path of initiation recurs in several versions. It is for example associated with the alchemical process with its seven stages to the elixir found in the writings of Paracelsus. In the Antiquitates Scanziana, Bureus reveals how the seven runes describe the steps taken by Christ as a saviour, from conception to resurrection, and his ascent up to God. Bureus illustrates how the goal of the adept is to reunite Byrghal and Thors, terms that in Bureus’ work signify man and God. This is, however, not a complete melding into God, since man retains his individual characteristics. Man and the entire material world is on the contrary elevated to the divine spheres symbolised by the rune Thors. The symbol of Byrghal and Thors united appears in several different variations, but in Adulruna rediviva Bureus draws a special version that ‘reveals the immeasurable force that those can reach, who are united with God’. Bureus was influenced by Christian kabbalists such as Pico della Mirandola and Johann Reuchlin, and especially their speculations regarding the penta­ grammaton, YHSVH, a modified version of the more familiar tetragrammaton, YHWH, that according to Pico and Reuchlin was a Hebrew form of the name Jesus. In his Antiquitates Scanziana, Bureus illustrates a cross consisting of IHVH at each arm with the letter Shin in the centre. To the Christian kabbalists

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the letter Shin was associated with the Messiah, and due to its crown-like shape, Bureus also associated it to the three regal crowns of Sweden. Bureus read the Sefer Yetzirah in the translation by Guillaume Postel and was influenced by its thoughts regarding the three mother letters of the Hebrew alphabet, and its seven double and twelve single letters. The three Hebrew mother letters Alef, Shin, and Mem represent, according to the Sefer Yetzirah, the three primal elements, air, fire, and water, and also spirit, soul, and body. Bureus illustrates how these three kabbalistic mother letters represent the three crowns (Bureus, F.a. 3, p.95). Bureus transfers this thought into the speculations regarding the three regal crowns of Sweden. In the Cabbalistica Bureus dedicates a page to describing the ten Sephiroth. He also gives them planetary attributes, to which he seems to have devoted a lot of thought, since in his notes one can find several versions of correspondences. In a sketch-like depiction of the Tree of Life Bureus reveals that the Moon corresponds to Malkuth, Mercury to Yesod, Venus to Hod, Jupiter to Netzach, Sun to Tiphareth, Mars to Geburah, and Saturn to Chesed. The Tree of Life model was taken from Cesare d’Evolis De divinis attributis sephirot ab hebraeis nuncupata (1573). Bureus experimented with the kabbalistic system Aiq Bekr, “the nine chambers”, which was used to create sigils. In this system, the Hebrew letters are placed in nine so-called chambers. Agrippa, who presents this system in De occulta philosophia, uses the archangel Michael as an example, while Bureus works with a Hebrew word, which seems to be beyeshuati, “in my salvation”, taken from the Book of Psalms. He creates a sigil out of this word through the method of Aiq Bekr. The esoteric runic research of Bureus also became famous outside Sweden, and a number of foreigners, who wished to study the secrets of the Adul-runes, visited him. On his deathbed, Bureus explained that it was his research in mysticism that he was most proud of, even if he had also made great contributions in linguistic research. The influence of Johannes Bureus on his contemporary age and the intellectual climate of Sweden during the seventeenth-century Swedish Empire brought innumerable esoteric ideas into Gothicism and paved the way for Swedish initiatory esotericism.

Kabbalah in Sweden



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Kabbalah in Sweden after Bureus

Even if very few Swedes studied and wrote about the Kabbalah in the dedicated and innovative way that Bureus did, there was nevertheless significant interest in kabbalistic ideas. The Christian Hebrew scholar Andreas Norrelius (1679–1749) translated the Zohar into Latin, and published this version in 1720 in Amsterdam. The text was provided with a commentary by his friend and teacher Johan Kemper (1670–1716), and was published as Phosphoros ortho­ doxae fidei veterum cabbalistarum. Kemper, whose real name was Moshe ben Aharon Cohen, was originally a Rabbi and a Sabatean, but had converted to Christianity. Kemper also wrote a commentary on the Zohar in another text called Mateh Moshe (Staff of Moses), but Norrelius failed to find the funds needed to publish this work. In his texts, Kemper used gematria and discovered that the word Nechesh, which is translated as “serpent”, has the same numerical value as “Mashiach” which is “Messiah” (Eskhult 2007: 457). Kemper was originally a follower of the Judeo-Turkish Messiah pretendent Sabbatai Zevi (1626–1676), who was identified with a serpent who would journey down into the darkest depths to save the souls which were stuck there. According to their belief, the one who has sunk into the deepest depths seemed to be the one most suitable to behold the light (Scholem 1967/1992: 348). This was also the logic behind the fact that Sabbatai Zevi under the threat of being burned at the stake converted to Islam; it was interpreted by his followers as a sign that he had to travel into the darkness to fulfil his act of illumination. Kemper, who also converted, but to Christianity, probably did not give up his Sabatean beliefs, which influenced his interpretations also after his conversion, a conversion which in all likelihood had strategical reasons (Huss 2007: 136–138). During the eighteenth century, mysticism flourished alongside ideas of the enlightenment and scientific progress. Freemasonry and Swedenborgianism grew and attracted well-established and erudite individuals who viewed their esoteric experiments as scientific. Spiritism, animal magnetism and divination fascinated the bourgeois, nobility and even kings (Oja 2000: 280). The statesman Count Gustaf Adolf Reuterholm (1756–1813) was an important person in esoteric circles in Sweden during this time. He exerted a key influence on Swedish politics during the regency of 1792–1796, but has been described as something of a charlatan (Bogdan 2005: 1). Reuterholm’s political power was strengthened by the fact that he was a close ally and fellow Freemason of Duke Charles. They also shared an extensive esoteric interest. Thus, the library of Reuterholm contains several kabbalistic texts. The collection is now part of the library of the Swedish Order of Freemasonry in Stockholm catalogued by the

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historian of ideas Kjell Lekeby. Among these texts one finds Cabbalisternas stora och Hemliga Problem (The Great and Secret Problem of the Kabbalists) that describes the numerological aspects of creation, Konung Salomons Semiphoras och Schemhamphoras (The Semiphoras and Schemhamphoras of King Solomon) that conveys the holy and secret names of God, and De cabala sancta (On the Sacred Kabbalah), which describes the ten Sephiroth. The text Reflextioner om Cabbalen och Inledningen (Reflections on the Kabbalah and the Introduction) tells about the mythical origin of the Kabbalah and the significance of Hebrew in Kabbalah. The Cabalists believe that everything has its true name, through the interconnection and pronunciation of which they can achieve great things. (…) This is something that reveals the pre-eminence of the Hebrew language. The effects are more significant, since the words that they employ, express either the name of God, or its perfection and emanations. A captain of the navy, Henrik Gustaf Ulfvenclou (1756–1819), was a spirit conjurer in the 1780s. He was part of the intimate esoteric circle around Duke Charles, and in a letter to the king the duke reveals that in Ulfvenclou he had encountered ‘… a man rather enlightened in the higher sciences and secrets’, and that he had contributed to the duke’s experience ‘… that the light is stronger that any power that man can endure’, and that he had now seen spirits (Forsstrand 1913: 113). Ulfvenclou was well versed in esoteric practices such as astrology, chiromancy, and geomancy, and was very interested in Kabbalah. During his stay with the duke, Ulfvenclou persuaded him that he was in contact with all kinds of spirits and that he had forced the spirit of the widow queen into a bottle, which he had ‘sealed with the wondrous seal of Solomon’ (Forsstrand 1913: 116). In a letter to his friend Carl Göran Bonde, Ulfvenclou includes two magical pentacles and describes how his friend should be able to communicate with the holy guardian angel. He signed the letter Chæremon, a name he had received on 11 February 1796, at 10 o’clock in the evening, when he ‘all of a sudden gained his first ordination from the Lord’s angels and was given the keys of nature, mercy and all power in the presence of the witnesses Gabriel, Uriel, Raziel and others’ (Forsstrand 1913: 134). At this time there was an order known by the kabbalistic name Metatron. Among the kabbalists this name has been the subject of numerous speculations. It is often described as the name of an angel that is associated with either the lowest or the highest Sephirah on the Tree of Life. According to one tradition, God took the patriarch Enoch from earth and turned him into the angel

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Metatron. Metatron is also linked to the heavenly writer who holds God’s archive (Scholem 1996: 132). Through a newspaper advertisement in the spring of 1781, the previously unknown order proclaimed its existence and declared that it wished to make public ‘the high purpose and history of the society’ (Häll 1995: 121). They claimed that the society had been in existence for forty years, and that they, among other things, had engaged in welfare. There was no use applying for membership, since they chose their members through physiognomy, a method that analysed man by the appearance of the face. The order claimed to keep watch on all of Sweden, and especially Stockholm, in order to identify suitable candidates. The grand master of Metatron had left behind several valuable manuscripts; one titled Blick der unbekanten Gloria was the foundation of the order. Besides the advertisement, Reuterholm’s essay titled “Maçonnique Händel­ ser” (Masonic Events) written in 1784 is the most important source for this mysterious society. Reuterholm describes the society as ‘cosmopolitan and magical’ (Häll 1995: 124). At first, Metatron did not approach the experienced mystic Reuterholm, which seems to have angered him, but this was remedied in the following year when he speaks about the order as ‘a known and highly estimated society’ (Lundin & Strindberg 1882: 436). The most astounding fact about Metatron was that the order, according to Reuterholm, owned Urim and Thummim, which he describes as a mirror in which one can see the true nature of the human spirit. Urim and Thummim are first mentioned in Exodus 28:30, where Aaron is to carry them when he is to meet with God. Magic, mysticism, Freemasonry, and Kabbalah were by no means uncommon at this time. August Strindberg and Claes Lundin describe the spirit of the age in their book Gamla Stockholm: Anteckningar ur tryckta och otryckta källor (Old Stockholm: Notes from Published and Unpublished Sources, 1882): This was the time of mysticism (…) The entire town seemed to wish to start orders to find out about the supernatural and lived only for magical convictions (Lundin & Strindberg 1882: 436). Although individuals such as Duke Charles, Reuterholm, and Ulfvenclou moved in a milieu that could have allowed them come into contact with Bureus’ understanding of Kabbalah, they seem to have taken no inspiration from his innovative speculations, but chose to devote themselves to a more traditional form of Kabbalah.

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Kabbalistic Literature

A detailed description of the Kabbalah is to be found in Jonas Hallenbergs Historiska anmärkningar öfver uppenbarelse boken (Historical Comments on the Book of Revelation), which was published in three volumes in 1800. Besides descriptions of the meanings of the various Sephiroth, it also presents central terms in the Kabbalah, and explores kabbalistic numerology on the number of the Beast. The Swedish Hebrew scholar, Knut Stenring, published an English trans­ lation of the Sepher Yetzirah in 1923. He wished to re-ignite the interest in Kabbalah with this publication and wrote in his foreword: It is hoped that the elucidations provided in the notes will not only reawaken interest in the text itself but in Kabalistic philosophy at large and lead to a much-needed renaissance of occultism (Stenring 1923: 17). In his commentary to the Sepher Yetzirah he discussed how the twenty-two Major Arcana cards of the tarot correspond to the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet. The idea that the tarot corresponds to the Hebrew letters was introduced by Eliphas Lévi in his book Dogme de la Haute Magie published in 1854, and thereafter became something of an established fact in the occult milieu. Stenring, however, constructs a different set of correspondences than Lévi, and explains: The meaning which “Sepher Yetzirah” assigns to each letter has enabled us to place the Tarot cards in their original and proper order (Stenring 1923: 38). The Kabbalah has had a significant influence on art and literature and it is primarily through these channels that it has reached many Swedes. There is hardly any kabbalistic literature written in Sweden, but there are a number of widely read translations. Umberto Eco’s novel Foucault’s Pendulum (orig. Il Pendolo di Foucault) is one such example of a fictional work that refers to the Kabbalah. Other translated books appeal especially to readers sympathetic to the New Age genre. An example of this is Tarot och Kabbala (Tarot and Kabbalah) by Samael Aun Weor, translated and published in 1997 by AGEAC (Gnostic Association of Anthropological, Cultural and Scientific Studies), a book that reproduces an argument that is common in modern kabbalistic

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literature, namely that the Kabbalah and Indian mysticism point at the same underlying truths. Another example is Lyfta av Slöjan: praktisk kabbala och kundaliniyoga (Lifting the Veil: Practical Kabbalah and Kundalini Yoga) by Joseph Michael Levry (published in Swedish in 2002) which is based on the teachings of the Indian guru Yogi Bhajan (1929–2004). This book explains that the Kabbalah is for the Western world what Kundalini Yoga is for the East. The wisdom of the Kabbalah, the author asserts, can be found in the Bhagavad Gita, the Yoga sutras, and several other Indian sacred texts (Levry 2002: 5). Kabbala: Om Livets träd som hjälpmedel för andlig och personlig utveckling (The Elements of the Qabalah) by Will Parfitt, which was translated from English and published in Swedish in 1997, combines Kabbalah with yoga and Jungian psychology. In the 1980s the kabbalistically coloured so-called Black Bible (or Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses) evoked some interest in both the Swedish esoteric milieu and in youth cultures. This translation of an English book contains various forms of spirit conjurations, magical seals, and names of spirits and demons. Books about Kabbalah in Swedish include Staffan Danell’s brief text of eight pages Kabbala: introduktion (1998), which contains short aphorisms regarding the being of God, the salvation of the world, and the Sephiroth. Kabbala, kliffot och den goetiska magin (2004) and Adulrunan och den götiska kabbalan (2005) by Thomas Karlsson have occasionally been on the best seller lists at New Age bookstores, they have also been translated into English, German, Russian, and Italian. The first book is an example of practical use of the kabbalistic theories and the second is a historical and academic description of the teachings of Johannes Bureus, later developed into a PhD Thesis, published in 2010.

Kabbalah in Sweden Today

The eclectic occultist form of Kabbalah that was developed in England during the nineteenth century in orders such as the Golden Dawn has ever since had a decisive influence on the modern Kabbalah. In Sweden today, there are a number of groups practising a Kabbalah that can be entirely or partly traced back to the Golden Dawn. The perhaps best-known of these is the Ordo Templi Orientis or Oto, an organisation founded in Germany by Theodor Reuss (1855– 1923) and from the 1920s headed by former Golden Dawn member Aleister Crowley (1875–1947). Another is Dragon Rouge, an order founded in the early 1990s in Sweden that practises a form of Kabbalah that focuses on its dark side,

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called the Qliphoth or the Kelippot, which members believe provide knowledge about the hidden aspects of man. Within Dragon Rouge there is also an interest in the kabbalistic theories of Johannes Bureus. The Golden Dawn is also represented in Sweden, but has split into a number of smaller fractions which were subsequently developed into independent orders. Sodalitas Rosæ Crucis (Src) is one of these, a group which mixes the rituals of the Golden Dawn with Gnostic traditions and rites of Freemasonry. Another example is Ordo Primæ Lucis (Opl) that studies Christian theosophy, alchemy, theurgy, and Kabbalah. In Sweden one also finds sections of the Martinist order Ordre Reaux Croix (Orc) and the esoteric organisation Builders of the Adytum (Bota), in which the Kabbalah is an important element. The Swedish Satanic group Misantropiska Lucifer Orden (Mlo) has also been inspired by the Kabbalah and its descriptions of the dark side. When the artist Madonna declared her interest in a modern form Kabbalah created by the American Kabbalah Center, it gained a lot of response from the New Age milieu and generated attention in Swedish media. Nevertheless, as an organised movement, this version of Kabbalah never really established itself in Sweden.

Concluding Remarks

When Kabbalah reached Sweden it was mainly non-Jewish Kabbalah that gained influence, even if its Jewish roots were acknowledged. Johannes Bureus, like the Christian kabbalists on continental Europe, united Christian motifs with the symbolic world of the Kabbalah. Bureus, however, added runes, ancient Norse gods, and Gothic ideas in his own unique manner. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries we can find Kabbalah in Freemasonry and esoteric societies, while the Kabbalah of the twentieth century and onwards has been associated with the New Age, parapsychology, occultism, and Indian mysticism. Apart from Bureus, most kabbalists in Sweden have followed the trends that were prevalent abroad. Bureus was the first to create a specifically Swedish interpretation of the Kabbalah.

References

Kabbalistic Manuscripts Codices Holmienses: Johannes Bureus, Adulruna rediviva, F.a. 21 Adulruna rediviva, F.a. 22 Adulruna rediviva, Rål. 9 8°

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Adulruna rediviva, Rål. 6 12° Antiquitates Scanziana, F.a. 3. MSS from the Archives and Library of the Swedish Order of Freemasonry: The Reuterholm collection, 121.71 Cabbalisternas stora och Hemliga Problem ——— . 121. 33 De Cabala Sancta ——— . 121.59 Konung Salomons Semiphoras och Schemhamphoras ——— . 121. 3 Reflextioner om Cabbalen och Inledningen. Other References Åkerman, Susanna, “The use of Kabbala and Dee’s Monas in Johannes Bureus’ Rosicrucian Papers”, paper presented at the IAHR conferens in Durban, South Africa, August 2000, subsection “Jewish Mysticism and Western Esotericism”, 2000. Bogdan, Henrik, “Esoteric Manuscripts in the Swedish Collection of Gustav Adolph Reuterholm”, in: [Andréa Kroon] (ed.), Masonic and Esoteric Heritage: New Perspectives for Art and Heritage Policies, The Hague: OVN, 2005, 23–35. Eskhult, Josef, Andreas Norrelius’ Latin Translation of Johan Kemper’s Hebrew Commentary on Matthew Edited with Introduction and Philological Commentary, Uppsala: Uppsala universitet, 2007. Forsstrand, Carl, Spåkvinnor och trollkarlar: Minnen och anteckningar från Gustav III:s Stockholm, Stockholm: Hugo Geber Förlag, 1913. Huss, Boaz, “The Text and Context of the Zohar Sulzbach Edition”, in: Chanita R. Goodblat and Howard Kreisel (eds.), Tradition, Heterodoxy and Religious Culture: Judaism and Christianity in the Early Modern Period, Beersheva: Ben-Gurion University of the Negev Press, 2007, 117–138. Häll, Jan, I Swedenborgs labyrint: Studier i de gustavianska swedenborgarnas liv och tänkande, Stockholm: Atlantis, 1995. Karlsson, Thomas, Adulrunan och den götiska kabbalan, Sundbyberg: Ouroboros Produktion, 2005. Levry, Michael, Lyfta av slöjan: praktisk kabbala och kundaliniyoga, Lidingö: L. Pihl, 2002. Lundin, Claes and August Strindberg, Gamla Stockholm: Anteckningar ur tryckta och otryckta källor från 1882, Stockholm: Jos. Seligmann & C:is förlag, 1882. Oja, Linda, Varken Gud eller natur: Synen på magi i 1600- och 1700-talets Sverige, Stockholm/ Stenhag: Brutus Östlings Bokförlag Symposion, 2000. Scholem, Gershom, Den judiska mystiken, Stockholm/Stenhag: Brutus Östlings Bokförlag Symposion, 1992. ——— . On the Kabbalah and its Symbolism, New York: Schocken Books, 1996. Stenring, Knut (trans.), The Book of Formation (Sepher Yetzirah), London: Rider, 1923.

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Chapter 29

Chapter 29 Early Modern Magic in Denmark

Magic in the Early Modern Period in Denmark Morten Fink-Jensen The practice of magic in medieval and early modern Denmark can for analytical purposes be divided into two main types, namely sorcery or unlawful magic (including diabolical witchcraft and curative magic) and learned or natural magic. This also roughly follows a demarcation of concepts applied throughout Europe in the period in question.

Witchcraft in Medieval and Reformation Denmark

Only circumstantial evidence attests to the existence of unlawful magic being practised in medieval Denmark. In 1080 Pope Gregor VII criticised the Danish King Harald III for holding witches responsible for misfortunes which, according to the pope, in reality were punishments sent by God. The Scanian Church Law and The Sealandian Church Law, both dating from ca. 1170, mention punish­ment for homicide by means of sorcery. Town statutes from the early fourteenth century draw attention to bewitchment of persons, whereas a ­fifteenth-century amendment to the secular Jutlandic Law, originally issued in 1241, provides a description of procedures to be followed in cases concerning bewitchment of one’s possessions, presumably animals. How these laws were put into effect remains unknown due to lack of records. It is not until after the Lutheran Reformation of 1536 that evidence of trials against witches or sor­ cerers exists. In the wake of the Reformation the Danish Church actively began to combat sorcery. The concerns of the Church were directed towards sorcery and the use of, e.g., magical incantations and formulas. In his Visitation Book of ca. 1544 Peder Palladius (1503–1560), the bishop of Sealand, called for the clergy to warn the population against consulting the local healer, conjurer or midwife who used magic. In the opinion of the Church, such persons were sorcerers or witches, and the populace was to be warned that it was the duty of every good Christian to report such sorcerers to the authorities lest one risk being accused of aiding the devil. The sorcerers themselves would now, since the clear light of the Gospel had begun to shine in Denmark, as Palladius put it, get what they deserved, namely death at the stake. He reported ‘a herd of them’ to have been burnt of late in Malmö, Køge, and other towns, and in Western and Southern © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_031

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Denmark they were ‘hunted as wolves’ with fifty-two having recently been burnt. No records survive to determine the actual extent of these persecutions, and Palladius might have exaggerated to press his point. Palladius, however, also wrote how the sorcerers were ‘crowding to pass over to the next world’ because one of them would betray the other (Jacobsen 1925–1926: 110). The effect of such denunciations appears to have been comprehensive, and there was at the time a real possibility of Denmark developing into a country with large-scale witch-crazes.

Prevention of Large-Scale Witch-Hunts

Legal measures were quickly taken, however, to dampen the ostensibly victorious Bishop Palladius and the Church. The Copenhagen articles of 1547 decreed that accusations from dishonest individuals, a term which extended to witches, could not on their own lead to the conviction of an accused person. Alleged accomplices could therefore not be prosecuted on the basis of the confession of a witch. The articles also forbade the use of torture before the final sentence, preventing forced confessions. This is reflected in the records where confessions are rare. These legal measures, unique in a European perspective, were quite clearly aimed at limiting the large-scale persecutions hinted at by Palladius. Furthermore, the Kalundborg statutes of 1576 subjected all capital sentences pronounced by lower court juries to automatic appeal to higher courts. This halted the otherwise customary immediate execution of a witch who had been found guilty by a local court. Making appeal compulsory would later be a common strategy for dealing with witch convictions across Europe, but Denmark was the first secular court to adopt this practice. Also of importance was the fact that accusatory procedure applied in Danish witch-trials. The alleged victim took the initiative to accuse the person he or she believed to have caused harm. This was contrary to most other parts of Europe, where inquisitorial procedure applied, and where inquiries could be set up and cases decided by an inquisitor. Initially, that type of procedure often led to large-scale witch-crazes, but eventually also led to the demise of the entire phenomenon. In Denmark, however, witches were almost always accused on an individual basis. The combination of the Danish criminal codes and the legal procedure had profound effects on the further development of the Danish witch-trials. Although Denmark was the most active witch-hunting country in Scandinavia, large-scale witch-hunts did not occur. Almost all of the Danish cases were concerned with specific crimes by use of sorcery or maleficia, mostly infliction of illnesses or subsequently death on

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people and livestock. The population at large believed that the witch harmed life, limbs or organic processes such as butter churning, but not equipment or tools. The witch was never accused of ruining the plough; only the draught animals were at risk. Contrary to other regions of Europe, the idea of the Witches’ Sabbath never took hold of the minds of the populace at large, or of the clergy. The earliest evidence of the Witches’ Sabbath having been recorded in connection with a trial dates from the town of Malmö in 1579, and even at the height of the Danish witch persecutions ca.1620 mentions of the Sabbath were rare and the alleged activities taking place at these meetings, as presented to the courts, somewhat subdued and without the orgiastic features recorded elsewhere in European trial sources. The devil, too, played a rather insignificant part in the performances of the witches, and in many Danish records of witch trials there is no mention of him at all. The notion of the pact with the devil was quite rare, and when it did appear it was not as a part of the Sabbath, but the result of a private meeting between the devil and the witch. Furthermore, the devil characteristically appeared to the witch in the shape of an animal, usually a black dog, and the witch would beat it in order to get it to aid her. In popular opinion the witch was thus the master, and the devil the servant.

The Sorcery Ordinance of 1617

The extent of the witch trials and the number of people burned at the stake in Denmark is not easy to calculate due to lack of records. Very approximate figures suggest that two thousand people were prosecuted, resulting in one thousand executions during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Eightyfive percent of the trials took place in rural areas, mirroring the distribution of the population as a whole. Not until the Sorcery Ordinance of 1617 was the nature of crimes by unlawful magic defined anew (replacing the medieval law codes) and corresponding penalties specified. The ordinance of 1617 for the first time accommodated the Church by associating sorcery with devil pacts. Witches who had made a pact with the devil were to suffer death at the stake. The same applied to the privy of a witch. The healers and “wise persons” who used magical formulas, incantations or conjuring faced confiscation of all possessions and exile, while their customers had to pay a fine and publicly confess to their crimes. This ordinance greatly increased the number of trials, though most cases continued to be about maleficent magic. In the peninsula of Jutland, more than half of the known trials took place after 1617. By the end of the 1620s the panic had largely ended, possibly due to the supply of suspected witches being exhausted.

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The surge in the number of cases after 1617 was not instigated directly by the legislators’ focus on satanic pacts. On the contrary, the peasants who gave evidence at the lower courts were remarkably indifferent to the possible affiliation of the witch with the devil. They were instead concerned with the actual harm caused by the witch – something he or she was thought to be capable of inflicting without the devil’s aid. Among the population at large, and especially among the peasantry, many were favourably inclined towards magic used for curative means for both man and beast. This positive view of curative magic extended to the upper layers of society, too, and the Sorcery Ordinance of 1617 specifically included punishments for members of the nobility who engaged in sorcery. The criminalisation of practical and curative magic certainly accounts for the rise in the number of trials after 1617, even though the legislators did not go as far as certain influential members of the clergy would have wished, namely in curative magic being equated with diabolical witchcraft and with all offenders being liable to capital punishment. Documentation taken from the court rolls of the cases brought before the Landsting (High Court) in Viborg in Jutland 1612–1637 – a period coinciding with the peak of the witch persecutions – shows 255 witches being brought before the court, i.e., persons who had already been handed death sentences at the lower courts. Of the 255 accused 129 had their judgments affirmed by the higher court. This shows an acquittal rate of 49.5 percent, but the actual percentage of cases being dropped was higher because it does not include those who had already been let off by the lower courts. It should be noted, however, that an estimated 90 percent of the accused of witchcraft were found guilty by the jurors at the lower courts. Of the 255 persons tried in Viborg 10 percent were male, 90 percent female. Almost 60 percent of the women were married with a further 8 percent being widows. Six percent were not married and the marital status of the remaining 27 percent is unknown. Two-thirds of the accused were over the age of fifty with hardly anyone being under twenty-five years of age. This statistical imbalance underlines the fact that it often took many years to acquire a reputation of being a witch. Poor and marginalised members of society, in particular, were at risk of being accused of witchcraft.

The Waning of the Witch Trials

The jurisdiction of Viborg extended to twenty-four towns (“købstæder”) and approximately 950 parishes. Yet during the peak of the witch trials 1612–1637 this area generated less than ten cases per year. This does not take into account the cases having been brought before the lower courts and which ended with

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acquittal, but even if the figure is doubled to twenty trials per year, thereby also taking into account the fact that we have incomplete source material, it still leaves an average of only a quarter of the Northern Jutland parishes and towns having had a witch tried and burnt at the time of the peak of the persecutions. This is probably not an indication that the local population thought that there were few sorcerers, but rather that they were hesitant when it came to accusing others of witchcraft. Many of those accused of being witches had been working in the local communities for years as healers and were thus often felt to be of good use by parts of the population. Furthermore, the accuser was financially responsible for the imprisonment of the accused and if the case resulted in acquittal, serious allegations of calumny could follow. With the acquittal rate being 50 percent, not everyone would gamble on successfully accusing someone of being a witch. Around the middle of the seventeenth century, a marked drop in the number of witch trials occurred. For example the High Court in Viborg only had two or three of these types of cases per year by then. It is quite evident that the judges became increasingly sceptical about the whole phenomenon, frequently labelling the supposed witches as being simple-minded or demented individuals rather than belonging to the devil’s minions. The Danish Law Code of 1683 repeated the stipulations of the ordinance of 1617 with death penalty for witchcraft by way of pacts with the devil and fines for other types of sorcery. But a further distinction was added with the mentioning of alleged sorcerers making use of “mad, imaginary arts”. The possibility of sorcery being “imaginary” was thus acknowledged. Similarly, The Church Ritual of 1685 admonished pastors first to consider melancholy and other natural causes in cases involving apparent sorcery, before they pondered the possibility of the devil being at play. In 1686 it was decreed that all death sentences in the high courts should be automatically appealed to the Supreme Court. Judicial witch-hunting ended shortly thereafter. The last burning of a witch in Denmark took place in 1693, and it was in fact only the beheaded corpse of the witch being burnt. Soon thereafter civilian witch trials ended altogether. Such trials were, however, still carried out within the jurisdiction of the military, and in 1721 the last execution of a soldier convicted of sorcery took place in Copenhagen. Only in the nineteenth century were the criminal codes concerning sorcery repealed, and an ordinance of 1840 classified sorcery as merely being a form of fraud or deceit. Already before the end of the seventeenth century, many peasants took the consequences of the higher courts’ refusal to consider death sentences for witches and ceased bringing the problems they faced with sorcery to court. Towards the end of the seventeenth century, the belief in witches had largely

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disappeared among the upper classes of society; among the lower classes, there were complaints that the judges were merely siding with the witches. Instead, many tried to deal with the witch by using counter-magic or quite simply by taking the law into their own hands. In 1722 a mob of peasants burnt to death a woman whom they accused of being a witch. The deed was met by the authorities with execution of the ringleaders. The last known murder of a suspected witch took place in Jutland in 1800, but as late as 1897 a suspected witch was violently attacked in Northern Jutland.

Learned Magic

Despite spelling out various types of illegal magical practises, the very word “magic” was not used in the Sorcery Ordinance of 1617. Undoubtedly this was out of consideration for natural magic, which was regarded as a respectable science in academic circles. Natural magic meant the utilisation of hidden, but natural forces of the universe. This was how Caspar Bartholin (1585–1629), professor of medicine at the University of Copenhagen 1613–1624, applied the term, and in this respect he followed the path of Paracelsian and Hermetic authors whom he on numerous occasions referred to in his writings. Indeed, Caspar Bartholin stated that natural magic was a cornerstone of physics and mathematics. Likewise in his textbook on natural philosophy, Physicae generalis praecepta issued in 1618, he included a chapter on occult qualities and natural magic, where he keenly pointed out that natural magic was something entirely different from diabolical magic. It was, of course, only the previous year that the Sorcery Ordinance had been issued. In retrospect, there could be a thin line between the learned magic as put to use in Hermetic medicine, and what was deemed sorcery. An uneasy likeness existed between engraving a precious stone in order for it to attract astral sympathies and affect the body of the doctor’s patient carrying the stone, and the piece of parchment with a formula written on it, carried in a string around the neck by the sorcerer’s clientele. And if a poor elderly widow had used an engraved charm to cure the illness of another person, she might find herself in dire straits. Widespread confusion seems to have prevailed on the matter in the early seventeenth century, with even a printed sermon in Danish from 1613 recommending the use of a variety of engraved stones such as a green jasper with an engraved cross to keep one from drowning, or a ruby with an engraved dragon to accumulate wealth (Garboe 1915: 226–229). The possibility of such effects being of a diabolical nature, however, gradually forced all practitioners of natural magic to turn their backs to the idea of certain figures, signs, and

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formulas having healing powers. The physicians would, however, long mull over the curative effects of engraved charms and although they would be disinclined to condone them, some, like professor Bartholin, shrank back from an outright condemnation of them. At any rate, as Caspar Bartholin put it in 1628 in his Systema physicum, only a fool would declare that precious stones had no occult qualities at all, and unengraved charms and stones continued to be an integral part of natural magic and Hermetic medicine for the remainder of the seventeenth century. Ole Borch (1626–1690), physician and professor at the University of Copen­ hagen, made his debut in 1649 with the book De cabala characterali dissertatio, that dealt with forbidden medicine and therapy. Yet in his subsequent writings Borch would develop into a stern defender of natural magic. According to Borch, Hermeticism and Paracelsianism were part and parcel of natural magic, and natural magic was a pure art, free from necromancy and other illegal types of magic, and most importantly it was concordant with Christianity. In his copious Hermetis, Aegyptiorum et chemicorum sapientiae (1674), Borch singled out the Jesuit demonologist Martin Del Rio for criticism, and warned anyone wanting to continue the Spaniard’s hard-line approach to natural magic, that attempts to associate Paracelsus and Hermes Trismegistus with sorcery would be futile. As a matter of fact, Borch took the magic out of natural magic, assigning as he did the term to an empiricist approach to natural philosophy which in reality had little practical use for any associations with the magical and philo­sophical tradition of Hermeticists and Paracelsians. It is perhaps no coin­ cidence that both the witch trials and the academic art of natural magic as part of university training all but disappeared by the coming of the eighteenth century. From then on, magic would increasingly escape notice, whether pursued in rural communities or masonic circles.

References

Fink-Jensen, Morten, “Ole Borch mellem naturlig magi og moderne naturvidenskab”, Historisk Tidsskrift, 100 (2000), 35–68. ——— . Fornuften under troens lydighed. Naturfilosofi, medicin og teologi i Danmark 1536–1636, Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 2004. Garboe, Axel, Kulturhistoriske Studier over Ædelstene med særligt Henblik paa det 17. Aarhundrede, Copenhagen: Nordisk Forlag, 1915. Henningsen, Gustav, “Witchcraft in Denmark”, Folklore, 93 (1982), 131–137. Jacobsen, Lis (ed.), Peder Palladius’ Danske Skrifter, Vol. 5, Copenhagen: UniversitetsJubilæets Danske Samfund, 1925–1926.

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Johansen, Jens Christian Vesterskov, Da Djævelen var ude. Trolddom i det 17. århundredes Danmark, Odense: Odense University Press, 1991. ——— . “Denmark. The Sociology of Accusations”, in: Bengt Ankarloo and Gustav Henningsen (eds.), Early Modern European Witchcraft: Centres and Peripheries, Oxford: Clarendon, 1993, 339–365. Kallestrup, Louise Nyholm, “Lay and Inquisitorial Witchcraft Prosecutions in Early Modern Italy and Denmark”, Scandinavian Journal of History, 36 (2011), 265–279. Mitchell, Stephen A., Witchcraft and Magic in the Nordic Middle Ages, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2011.

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Chapter 30 Early Modern Magic in Finland

Magic in the Early Modern Period in Finland Tomas Mansikka

Magic and the Christianisation of Finland

The notion of the Finnish people as particularly predisposed towards magic is of old date, and it is part of the history of Finland from its initial process of Christia­nisation to the late eighteenth century. According to King James I of England, the main reason for the practice of magic, as expressed in his Dae­ monologie published in 1597, was that in ‘such wild partes of the worlde’ as Lapland, Finland, and the islands of Orkney and Shetland, the devil finds, the greatest ignorance and barbarity, wherefore he also, accordingly, assails ‘grosseliest’ (King James I 1924: 70). During the early period of the Reformation, the clergy from time to time bemoaned that the process of Christianisation was an almost insurmountable task. In the earliest records of the Church, the statutes of the Catholic bishop Conrad Bitz (d. 1489), all forms of magical or superstitious activities were condemned, and those convicted of such crimes were condemned to death. In Ericus Erici Sorolainen’s (1546–1625) Postilla from 1621–1625, a work distinguished by a fairly humanistic approach, the magical practices of the Finns were regarded not only as remnants of paganism but also of Catholicism. The bishop of Turku (Sw. Åbo) and Vice-Chancellor of the Academy of Turku, Isaacus Rothovius (1572–1652), also regarded the Catholic era as a period that had encouraged the practice of magic rather than condemning it. Nevertheless, after a period of one hundred years of Reformation, as he expressed in a circular dated 1646, the extent of magic among the people was still astonishing. In his inaugural sermon held in 1640 Rothovius gave several examples of magical activities among the people, such as the custom of performing rituals in the dark with animal heads. Two decades later, the bishop Johannes Terserus (1605–1678) stated that ever since schools had been established in Finland, that is, as far as one could recall, its inhabitants had always practised black arts (Hertzberg 1889: 2).

Definitions of Magic

During the seventeenth century, which was the foundational period of Luther­an orthodoxy, a most conspicuous characteristic of the academy in Turku was the © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_032

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effort to overcome various forms of demonic magic that allegedly were being practised in the country. Although magic was primarily an intrinsic part of popular traditions, magical practices could also be transmitted through books on learned or natural magic. Moreover, due to ambiguous definitions of magic and science on the one hand, and of natural and demonic magic on the other, the accusations were not only restricted to alleged practitioners of magic or to owners of forbidden literature, but could be used to discredit members of the clergy. Struggles over clerical positions and power thus significantly marked the early decades of the academic institutions, and from the founding of the academy in 1640 until the 1660s, a predominant issue under debate was the scope and content of malevolent magic. In the 1640s two Master’s theses on natural magic, one by Johannes Munthe­ lius (1645) and the other by Johannes Wassenius (1648), both of them entitled De magia naturali, were written under the supervision of Georg Alanus (1609– 1664). Approaching the subject from its approved aspect, the authors relied chiefly on Giambattista Porta’s Magia naturalis and, in the case of Munthelius, Balthasar Meisner’s much-utilised Philosophia sobria. In accordance with Porta, all sciences are perceived to culminate in natural magic, being a true natural knowledge. Natural magic explores the inherent virtues, or occult properties, in all created things. This acceptable form of magic also has pragmatic or utilitarian aims, such as determining appropriate times for hunting and fishing. As to demonic magic, there are three kinds, divinatoria, pres­ti­gia­ toria, and effectoria. These forms of illicit magic did not require any particular skills by their practitioners, and it was usually ignorant people who adhered to demonic magic in order to compensate for their lack of knowledge. Books on natural magic, however, could also be used in illegitimate ways, one example being Agrippa von Nettesheim who wrote on secret things in a crude and superstitious way. Demonic magic was also connected with inappropriate curiosity. In this respect it was an aspiration to obtain knowledge in matters that God had not revealed, thereby trespassing the limits that he had set to the world.

Accusations of Magical Practices

Discussions of illegitimate forms of magic were mostly connected to allegations directed against the first professor of Greek and Hebrew in Finland, Martin Stodius (1590–1675), who, it was assumed, had let demonic magic gain foothold within the academy. Born in Turku, Stodius had studied in Wittenberg and after 1627 worked as a teacher in his hometown and in Vyborg (Fi. Viipuri,

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Sw. Viborg). In 1636 he took up a position as a lecturer in theology and in 1638 he was made a member of the committee that in 1642 completed the Finnish Bible translation. As early as 1627, he was suspected of being involved in importing “necromantic” books from Lübeck, but he was freed from these charges due to lack of evidence. The first formal accusation against him was made in 1644 by Rothovius, after parents of a student accused Stodius of being responsible for their son turning insane. Rumoured to have kept a “spiritum familiarem” (a familiar spirit) and giving students secret lectures on Thursday nights, Stodius defended himself by admitting to having given lectures, but only with harmless experiments, such as writing with invisible ink and producing fire by using convex glass as a lens. More damaging for Stodius, however, was the fact that he had requested the students not to divulge the private teachings to anyone. One of the most talented scholars at this time was Andreas Thuronius (1632–1665) whose genius, however, had raised suspicions against him for having practised illegal arts. On the occasion of a promotion in 1653, where some fifteen candidates were to receive their graduations, rumours were proffered that a kabbalistic book by Michael Paletz had been used by some of the students, notably Thuronius and Arvid Forstadius (d. 1683). The latter became involved in a trial in Vyborg in 1655, when a young student by the name of Johannes Enrot admitted to having practised demonic magic. Forstadius, who held a position as lecturer in the Vyborg Lyceum, was pointed out as the teacher who had distributed magical literature. Stodius was subsequently implicated in the case as well, as his signature was found in a confiscated copy of Paletz’ work. A second charge was raised against Stodius in 1656, but after having been supported and powerfully defended by Thuronius, the chancellor Per Brahe freed Stodius in a decree from 1656, arguing that huge libraries, such as Stodius’, usually contained magical and kabbalistic works. To misuse a book was indeed abominable, but the content of such writings was not necessarily directed against the Lord and his servants. This was, according to Brahe, for the reason that also ‘many other forms of knowledge, such as magia naturalis, chymia and others are by their artists kept in secreto’ (Schybergson 1923: 36). Freed once again from the charges, but not from the suspicions, Stodius was considered a burden to the academy by the powerful bishops Enevald Sveno­ nius (1617–1688) and Terserus. When Terserus was appointed bishop in 1658, his main objective was to prove the suspicions that Stodius had practised and instructed students in “artibus necromanticis”. Terserus subsequently met King Charles X and asked him to remove Stodius from his position, with the result that, despite some dissatisfaction on the part of Brahe and Thuronius,

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Stodius was forced to resign from his academic duties in 1660 but continued his duty as minister (1654–1675) in Naantali (Sw. Nådendal).

Magical Books and Practices

The increased awareness that forbidden books were in fact widely available led in 1653 and onward to the confiscation of a number of such books and manuscripts, an act that was considered necessary in order to clean the academy from its reputation of being a school of magic and a kabbalistic nest. Apparently, the most popular manuscript was Ars cabalistica, sive cabala Christiana Michaë­lis Paletzii, which, despite its title, seems to have been more of a magical handbook. Other works were Schemhamphoras, Clavis Salomonis, De occulta philo­sopia libri tres (as well as the spurious Fourth Book) by Agrippa, and Angelus Lucis, possibly a German translation from 1584 of Salomon Trismosin’s Splendor Solis. In association with the Ars cabalistica, a magical-astrological work titled Planetzbooken was also found, as were some Faustian writings, such as Christopher Vagnerus Doctoris Fausti disciples. Stodius had become, as it were, branded explicitly as a Faustian character leading the youth astray. As can be deduced from the records, the attraction of magic among students was foremost that it held out the promise of becoming instantly learned, without the painstaking efforts that were normally required. Magical letters and symbols served to strengthen the brain (pro confortatione cerebri), and could thereby hasten the process of learning. This had allegedly been done by some undergraduates such as, for instance, Henricus Thomae Eolenius who had carelessly applauded himself of obtaining respectable skills in Syriac and Arabic on a Thursday night. Another motive was to obtain riches, a popular goal especially among underprivileged students and which, occasionally, could include also a pactum cum diabolo, a pact with the devil. The magical craze within the academy also affected strictly orthodox circles, which serves to illustrate the difficulty if not impossibility to demarcate orthodox faith from magic. Terserus, for instance, had in a sermon stated that by writing the words of John 1:1 on a paper and placing the text in a box, one would be protected against bullets and swords. Although he was the foremost accuser and detector of magical practices, Terserus was therefore sometimes considered to practise magic himself. Thus, Thuronius, in a letter to Brahe written in 1662, assumed that the bishop’s zeal to blame others sprung from his own acquaintance and dealing with magic (“trollkonster”, literally “the art of sorcery”). A similar blurring of the lines between Christian orthodoxy and magic can be found in the sermons of Laurentius Petri Aboicus (1605–1671).

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Petri was an expert on and collector of Finnish names of demonic spirits, but also maintained that the Christian creed itself, as well as certain words, names and prayers functioned as means by which one’s health and property could be protected. Since the devil had disguised himself as the masters of Catholics, Calvinists and other parties, an efficient protection against him was to recite the Lutheran confession. Once the devil had heard the right confession from one’s mouth, he became unable to act. The most powerful protection was provided, however, by the name of Jesus, a notion that was common in Christian kabbalah and could also be found, e.g., in the Schemhamphoras.

Witchcraft and Magic

The controversies within the academy can be seen as a reflection of a more widespread concern with magical practices. During the seventeenth century, the lower courts had to handle a number of cases concerning practices of magic. Finnish, as well as Estonian and Icelandic peasant culture, was distinct from other European traditions by the fact that practitioners of witchcraft were predominantly male. Wizards or itinerant magicians spread terror in the communities, demanding that households provide them with shelter and provisions, lest they leave spells and misfortune behind them. Two of the most notorious professional wizards were Antti Lieroinen and Erkki Puujumala, both of whom were put on trial and sentenced to death in the early 1640s, shortly after the academy of Turku had been founded. In the wake of the great witch trials in late seventeenth century, a number of academic writings came to deal with the doctrines of witchcraft, an area that had hitherto received little attention. Many practices of popular magic, formerly regarded as benign, were under the new framework considered suspect. Due to the new attitude towards popular magic, an increasing number of alleged diabolical pacts were investigated, a process that culminated in the mid-1670s. The subject of demonic magic continued to be of interest in the following decades, as in bishop Johannes Gezelius’ Casuum conscientiae (1689), which maintained the traditional division of benevolent and malevolent magic. Other works with a similar approach worth mentioning are De tympanis magicis (1680) by Nicolaus L. Forzelius, a work on the magical drums of the Sami people, and De magia numerorum (1703) by Christian Alander. A large number of the dissertations on magic was published under the auspices of the professor of physics Petrus Hahn, most notably Panegyrios Satanicae (1697) by Wilhelm Wargentin and Magia naturalis seu de qvalitatibus occultis (1698) by A. Aeimelaeus, both works relying on authors such as Johannes Wier (De

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praestigiis), Jean Bodin (Daemonomania), and Johannes Georgius Godelmannus (De magis). An increased influence of Cartesian dualism, on the other hand, led to a growing scepticism regarding the reality of demons. Although no overt critique was put forward, the Cartesian distinction between spirit and matter, stressing an exclusively empirical and physiological approach to the latter, gradually shifted the grounds of explanation away from magical and supernatural causes. Descartes’ works were known and referred to, but usually as only one source among many, and the Finnish authors generally proposed a mediating view, thus maintaining a belief in the reality of demonic power. A conviction of the reality of demonic magic thus persisted in the scholarly curriculum until the Great Northern War (1700–1721) and the temporary closing of the academy in 1714 (Heikkinen 1969: 333–348).

Magic in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries

The persistence of a magical subculture in Finland has been regarded as a reason for the radical turn of the Pietist movement in the country. The widespread belief that Finnish peasants were versed in “pure” or efficacious magic received high esteem at the close of the eighteenth century, as magic came to be regarded fashionable within mystical and masonic circles. The Finnish-born Baron Gustav Adolf Reuterholm (1756–1813) stated that he among Finns had encountered widespread forms of “sinister magic” which they freely exercised. The magician and necromancer Gustav Björnram (1745–1801), perhaps the most outstanding of the court magicians, was born in eastern Finland in the district of Savo (Sw. Savolax). From the early 1780s onward, Björnram kept most of the nobilities at the court of Gustavus III enthralled by his magical rituals, including the conjuring of spirits at graveyards and the divination of future events. His expertise also included the preparation of herbs and liquors for longevity, a knowledge he claimed he had obtained from an “old military man” in Finland whom he occasionally visited to receive instructions. Intrigues and conspiracies notwithstanding, Björnram managed to retain his credibility as a prophet and magician well into the 1790s. A.F. Munck wrote in a letter (1792) to Reuterholm that ‘of all the mystics none is to be more relied upon than our oldest prophet B[jörnram]’ (Rein 1938: 40). Unsuccessful in obtaining a permanent income, Björnram was forced to spend his last years in poverty and ill health, as his income was successively withdrawn by the new rulers, including his former apprentice Reuterholm.

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The decline of magic in Finland is concurrent with the changing status of magic in nineteenth-century European culture. This transition was, at least partly, connected to the decline of magic in higher social circles and its adoption among the lower classes. This social downwards movement can be illustrated by the fate of magical books. The Schemhamphoras, mentioned above, still enjoyed a prominent position within high degree Masonry in Sweden and Finland at the close of the eighteenth century. In the mid-nineteenth century, Schemhamphoras was reprinted and incorporated in the notorious Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses by the prolific German publisher of magical texts J. Scheible, but this wider circulation was in a new context of “Raritäten und Kuriositäten”. The work was translated into Finnish in 1902 by emigrant Finns in Michigan, Usa. Magical texts such as Schemhamphoras thus did not disappear from the Finnish scene, but on the contrary became available in the vernacular and as such a principal source for popular magic in the twentieth century, a social transition documented by ethnographers in Scandinavia (Steen 1965).

References

Cronstedt, A.F., “Fortsättning af Bergmästar Cronstedts Brefväxling angående Mystiska Naturkunnogheten”, Bergs-Journal, N:o 2, (1787), 83–107. Donner, Harry, Frimurarröster ur det förflutna, Helsingfors: Söderström, 1935. Heikkinen, Antero, Paholaisen liittolaiset (diss.). Historiallisia tutkimuksia LXXVIII, Helsinki: Suomen historiallinen seura, 1969. Hertzberg, Rafael, Kulturbilder ur Finlands historia II. Hexprocesser på 1600-talet, Helsingfors: G.W. Edlund, 1888. ———. Vidskepelsen i Finland på 1600-talet (diss.), Helsingfors: Hufvudstadbladets Nya Tryckeri, 1889. King James I, Daemonologie (1597), London: E.P. Dutton & Company, 1924 Lamm, Martin, Upplysningstidens romantik, Part I, Stockholm: Hugo Gebers förlag, 1918. Lekeby, Kjell (ed.), Gustaviansk mystik, Sala/Södermalm: Vertigo, 2010. M[ansikka], T[omas], “Johdatus Kuudennen ja seitsemännen Mooseksen kirjan taustoihin”, in: Musta Raamattu: Kuudes ja seitsemäs Mooseksen kirja, Juva: Salakirjat, 2012. Nenonen, Marko and Timo Kervinen, Synnin palkka on kuolema. Suomalaiset noidat ja noitavainot 1500–1700-luvulla, Helsinki: Otava, 1994. Rein, Gabriel, Mystikern Björnram, Soc. Scient. Fenn., Comm. Hum. Litt. IX,1, Helsingfors, 1938.

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Schybergson, Carl Magnus, “Per Brahes ställning till rättegångarna angående förbjuden lärd magi vid Åbo akademi”, in: Förhandligar och Uppsatser 36/1922, Skrifter utg. av Sv. Litt.sällskapet i Finland 167, Helsingfors, 1923, 1–90. ——— . (ed.), Per Brahes brevväxling rörande Åbo akademi, II, 1, Skrifter utg. av Sv. Litt. sällskapet i Finland 230, Helsingfors, 1932. Steen, A., “Litt om sjette og sjunde Mosebok”, Norsk Teologisk Tidsskrift, Årg. 66, (1965), 65–88. Sturzen-Becker, Oscar Patric, Reuterholm efter hans egna memoirer, Stockholm: Trier, 1862.

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Chapter 31

Magic in the Early Modern Period in Sweden Henrik Bogdan and Kjell Lekeby Bogdan and Lekeby

Discourses on Magic in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries

Magic is a notoriously difficult subject to delimit and define, not only from a scholarly perspective (Otto & Stausberg 2013), but also from an emic or insiders’ perspective. In the present chapter, we have tried to limit the discussion to types of magic that can be linked to the wider scholarly concept of Western esotericism (Bogdan 2010), which in the case of early modern Sweden primarily concerns “learned” types of magic associated with the grimoire tradition of continental Europe (Owen 2009: 6–43). Although it is difficult to separate learned magic from “folk” or “popular” magic (as will be discussed below), this chapter does not discuss Swedish popular forms of magic, such as trolldom and signerier, which somewhat loosely can be described as acts of magic associated with cunning men and women, and priests and monks, respectively. Nor do we discuss allegations of magic associated with the witchcraft trials in Sweden, which culminated in 1668–1676, 1720–1724, and 1757–1763. Overt references to the practise of learned magic in the Middle Ages, as well as during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, are virtually impossible to find, which is not surprising given the fact that both the ecclesiastical and the judicial authorities fiercely condemned any form of magic as the work of Satan. A telling example of the condemnation of magic can be found in the important and highly influential work by bishop Laurentius Paulinus Gothus, Ethicae christianae, which in the second edition (1633) included a substantial chapter on magic, “Om magia illicita eller widskepelse uthi gemen” (On Illicit Magic and Superstition in General). The punishments imposed on those who were found guilty of practicing magic during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were severe, and sometimes even resulted in being condemned to death. Even though magic was still considered to constitute a crime during the eighteenth century, the actual punishments were, however, gradually relaxed over the century. Linda Oja has argued that while there was an agreement on the condemnation of malevolent magic between the ecclesiastical and judicial authorities on the one hand, and the people in general on the other, it was another matter with benevolent forms of magic. Here, people in general tended

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to have a more positive attitude towards magic, whereas the ecclesiastical and judicial authorities vehemently diabolised benevolent magic as they saw this form of magic as a more potent threat towards the Church. Or to put it in Oja’s words: ‘Benevolent magic constituted the worst threat against official religion, which is probably why the authorities particularly disliked it. Ritual actions with the aim of healing, regaining lost goods or making livestock stronger could easily be interpreted as good and useful. […] Consequently, benevolent magic was closely related to official religion but without being controlled by the clergy’ (Oja 1999: 300–301). It is therefore understandable that people interested in magic had to keep it secret or veil it in obscure terminology, which makes it difficult for current scholarship to identify the practice of learned magic in Sweden prior to the eighteenth century. An illustrative example is the Swedish esotericist Johannes Bureus (1568–1652), who was deeply occupied with kabbalistic ideas concerning the role of the Hebrew alphabet. It has been argued that at the core of his aim to devise a structurally similar system to that of Kabbalah which assigned occult qualities to the Nordic rune alphabet (especially the glyph called Adulruna which appears to have been inspired by John Dee’s Monas Hieroglyphica), was a form of magic or theurgy that was inspired by practitioners of magic such as Cornelius Agrippa and John Dee (see the chapter on Kabbalah in Sweden in the present volume), although his discussion is so obscure that it is difficult to say anything definite about his system in relation to magic.

Metatron

The eighteenth-century esoteric milieu in Sweden was characterised by an increasing institutionalisation in the form of a wide range of secret societies and initiatic orders, especially from the 1750s and onwards. Chief among these was of course the Order of Freemasons, which was introduced in Sweden as early as 1735. As will be discussed presently, it was in particular in masonic circles connected to the court that learned magic was practised, but there also existed competing secret societies, separate from the world of Freemasonry, that focused on magic. The most significant example of this type of organisation is the mysterious and highly secretive Metatron, of which relatively little is known. Metatron first came to the public attention when it published an open letter (Avertissement af sällskapet Metatron) in the Stockholm daily paper Dagligt Allehanda, Dagliga Tidningar, on 27April 1781:

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The Society Metatron whose age in Sweden is a bit more than 40 years, has so far existed in secrecy, without being in the least known, suspected or spoken of […]. The highest secrets of nature are not possible to comprehend by the many, but only by the few, that are so disposed. […] The text continues to reveal that the founder of the organisation died in 1740, and that a large amount of valuable manuscripts, which explain the basis of their teachings, is in the hands of the current leaders. The advertisement caused a stir among people with an interest in magic, and it is known that influential people, such as Gustaf Adolf Reuterholm (see below), tried to apply for membership, but were rejected. Based on the internal evidence of a number of manuscripts derived from, or related to, Metatron preserved among Reuterholm’s papers (now at the library of the Swedish Grand Lodge of Free­ masons), it is possible to conclude that the founder was colonel Arvid Stjerne­crantz (1662–1740), and that he was succeeded by the well-known preacher Eric Tolstadius (1693–1759), as argued by Jan Häll (1995). Tolstadius was an important leader in the Swedish Pietist movement, which emphasised individual piety and living a devout Christian life. Although no conclusive evidence has been unearthed to date, it seems likely that Arvid Stjernecrantz’s son, Christer Adrian Stjernecrantz (1700–1776), succeeded Tolstadius as head of Metatron upon the death of the latter in 1759: there can be no doubt that Christer Adrian’s son, Arvid Adrian Stjernecrantz (i.e., Arvid Stjernecrantz’s grandson), was a member of Metatron, since he signed the only known official document sent in the name of that organisation. The letter was sent to one of the court magicians, Henrik Gustaf Ulfvenklou (see below), and contains a sharp criticism of Ulfvenklou’s divinations and the fact that he had joined the Order of Freemasons – just like another of the court magicians, Gustaf Björn­ ram, Ulfvenklou had been appointed to the highest degree of Swedish Free­masonry, the Ruby Cross, directly by Duke Charles, without having to go through the rituals of the previous degrees. The last known head of Metatron was probably Peter Fredell. As mentioned, several interesting manuscripts related to Metatron have survived, and they show that the teachings were on the one hand inspired by radical Pietism, Swedenborgianism, and Böhmenism, and on the other by esoteric teachings such as physiognomy, and the use of magical mirrors. The organisation also sought to divine the future, often with the help of what they called Urim and Thummim (of which nothing is known), a practice which it held in common with the magicians at the court (SFMO:s arkiv, 121.106).

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A Sanctuary of Magic at the Royal Palace

The most conspicuous phase in the history of magic in Sweden occurred in the 1780s, when two esoteric circles met at the royal palace in Stockholm: first, there was a small circle of magicians that gathered around King Gustavus III, the most significant members of which included general Johan Christoffer Toll (1743–1817), the king’s protégé Adolph Fredrik Munck (1749–1831), and the alchemist August Nordenskjöld (1754–1792). This small group of magicians met for only a few years in the early 1780s, and there is at least one eyewitness account of a magical ceremony carried out by the king himself at the palace, on the night between 19 and 20 May 1781, in which the king sought to communicate with spirits, without any apparent results. After a few years, the king’s interest in magic waned considerably, and he became increasingly suspicious of the second, larger circle of magicians that convened at the royal castle, led by his brother, Duke Charles of Södermanland (later King Charles XIII). Duke Charles’ interest in magic and other arcane sciences, such as astrology and alchemy, is well-documented, and it is clear that his esoteric pursuits had a profound effect upon his worldview and actions. Duke Charles’ esoteric pursuits were framed within the larger context of high degree Freemasonry and French Illuminism, and it was in particular through his close friend Gustav Reuterholm (1756–1813) [for more information on the relationship between duke Charles and Reuterholm, see the chapter on Freemasonry in Sweden in the present volume] that Charles came into possession of a remarkably large and diversified collection of books and manuscripts on magic. The majority of these books and manuscripts are preserved at the library of the Grand Lodge of the Swedish Order of Freemasons, and they reveal the extent of the duke’s interest in magic (Lekeby 2010). In particular, there are four large bound volumes in Duke Charles’ own handwriting, titled Practiska systemet af cabalistica (The Practical System of Kabbalah) and Clavicula Salomonis (The Key of Solomon). The chapter headings of the collection are indicative of the sort of magic that Duke Charles occupied himself with: On Kabbalah, compendium totius santisimae cabalae; On the Sephiroth; On the ten names of God; On Semiphoras and Schemhammaphoras; On Heptameron or the elements of magic; On magical hieroglyphs and their meaning; On the preparation and consecration of the workplace; how the magical circle should be made; On the evocation of binding of spirits; On sacrifices to the spirits; on incense sacrifice; On blood sacrifice; On the evocation of good and evil angels; On the signs and characteristics of

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the angels and spirits; On the way to use and evoke the seventy-two angels, etc. (Lekeby 2010: 25). The type of magic encountered in these volumes, and in the other manuscripts preserved at the library of Freemasons in Stockholm, derives from the grimoire tradition of Western magic and authors such as Cornelius Agrippa (in fact, there is a manuscript Swedish translation of the first two books of Agrippas’ De occulta philosophia preserved among Duke Charles’ papers), as opposed to more popular forms of magic on the one hand, and to natural or intellectual magic of Renaissance magicians such as Marsilio Ficio, Pico della Mirandola, and Giordano Bruno on the other. The esoteric circle around Duke Charles met at his private rooms at the Royal Palace in Stockholm. Although the circle would meet for almost thirty years at the palace, the magical activities culminated during the winter of 1783–1784, when King Gustavus III was away on a journey to Italy. The duke had a special room, Sanktuariet or the Sanctuary, set up at the palace, in which he carried out the magical workings. According to contemporary accounts, the room was decorated with paintings of partially nude women, with a nude woman on the floor with a triangle over her genitals. Behind a veil, coloured in four colours in allusion to the four elements, was the holy of holies, a simple room with three steps leading up to an altar, with a large crucifix mounted on the wall behind the altar. Magical workings were also carried out at other places, in particular in various cemeteries and churches in the Stockholm region. Apart from Duke Charles and Reuterholm, there were around thirty people who belonged to the secret cabal at the palace, with an inner core of twelve persons, many of whom were also active Freemasons. The magical operations carried out by the circle were kept secret from other Freemasons, and it should be emphasised that even though Freemasonry was intertwined with the group’s various esoteric pursuits, magic was not part of the activities of the Order of Freemasons in Sweden. Most of the members were young aristocrats who belonged to influential families, such as Jean Jacob De Geer (1745–1800) and Johan Gabriel Oxenstierna (1750–1818), but the most significant and influential magicians were Carl Anders Plommenfelt (b. 1750), Gustaf Björnram (1745–1801), Henrik Gustaf Ulfvenklou (1755–1819), and Carl Adolf Boheman (1764–1831), the only commoner of the group. Plommenfelt became the first “prophet” at the court towards the end of the 1770s, and he claimed that he had learned the magical arts while travelling for five years abroad. Plommenfelt, who in 1782 was banished from Sweden accused of treason against the king, apparently based the secret teachings that he taught at the court on the writings of Jacob Böhme and an old handbook on

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magic. He was succeeded by the mysterious Björnram, who was highly appreciated by not only Reuterholm and Duke Charles, but also by King Gustavus III. In fact, Björnram, the only court magician who was not eventually banished from the court, became the personal teacher in magic to Duke Charles, Johan Gabriel Oxenstierna, and Reuterholm for four years, 1782–1786. Reuterholm later recorded in his important record of magical experiments, Samling af Maçonnique händelser (Collection of Masonic Events), that Björnram is ‘one of the few real Rosicrucians’, and in 1782 he wrote that ‘the first evidence of magic that I have received, I got through royal secretary Gustaf Björnram who has been my mentor upon this path’ (121.63). Several manuscripts that have survived in the Reuterholm collection show that Björnram’s magic was a mixture of folk magic and classical grimoire texts. Björnram’s position as the main magician at the court was temporarily challenged during the winter of 1783– 1784, when the charismatic magician Ulfvenklou appeared at the court. In contrast to Björnram, who had a more modest background and whose claim to be a descendent of the medieval noble family Björnram was questioned, Ulfvenklou belonged to the high nobility and was related to Johan Skytte, who had promulgated the teachings of Hermes Trismegistus at Uppsala University at the beginning of the seventeenth century. The interest in magic and other esoteric sciences ran deep in the family, and Ulfvenklou claimed that he had been taught magic by his great uncle, General Carl Gustaf Cronhiort (1694– 1777). Not only Ulfvenklou’s background set him apart from Björnram, so did his personality. Whereas Björnram reportedly shunned attention and preferred not to be in the centre of social settings, Ulfvenklou apparently took a delight in finding himself in the spotlight, much to the ire of Reuterholm, who soon began to conspire against him. Ulfvenklou eventually saw himself outmanoeuvred by Reuterholm, and was in August 1784 banished from court due to trumped-up charges – he had allegedly made a snide comment about the king. Ulfvenklou continued, however, to correspond with Duke Charles and appears to have been very serious about his magical operations, as shown by surviving correspondence and manuscripts. It can also be argued that the period during which Ulfvenklou acted as the main magician at the court (the winter of 1783– 1784), marked the height of magical practices at the court, both in terms of the frequency and the advanced nature of the magical ceremonies carried out in the sanctuary. After Ulfenklou’s exit from the court, Björnram returned as the favoured magician – at least for a few years. The last “court magician” to appear on the scene was Carl Adolf Boheman. In addition to being a practicing magician, Boheman was a promulgator of esoteric high degree Freemasonry, and he introduced a secret society at the court, called Delu, believed to stand for “Det

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eviga ljusets utvalde” (The Elect of the Eternal Light). This highly secretive order admitted both men and women, and the teachings were based on explicitly esoteric orders such as the Asiatic Brethren and the Order of the African Master Builders, which is not surprising considering that it is believed that Charles of Hesse-Cassel in Schleswig was its Grand Master. Boheman managed to attract several highly influential individuals to this new order, including Duke Charles and his wife Charlotta, before he was arrested by King Gustavus IV Adolphus in the spring of 1803 on unclear charges: Boheman was banished from Sweden with no possibility for appeal. Furthermore, Gustavus IV Adolphus ordered the sanctuary at the castle to be closed – a decision which marked the end of Duke Charles’ magical circle. According to Lekeby (2010), the two primary techniques used in the magical rituals at the court were necromancy and evocation (citering). Through the first type of magic, the magicians sought to commune with the spirits of dead people, often with the distinct purpose of divining the future. The material means through which necromancy was believed to work was often a human skull placed on an altar, or a collarbone which by its shape alluded to the letter “Y” (ypsilon), which sometimes was interpreted as a symbol of God’s unspeakable name. The skull and collarbone should ideally come from a dead boy less than twelve years old, and it is reported that the members of Duke Charles’ magic circle collected these items from a cemetery in Stockholm (Johannes kyrkogård). One of Reuterholm’s manuscripts, Magisk arbets iournal (Magical Record), describes this sort of magical rituals in detail, mentioning how the ‘signs from the other side of the grave’ manifested as particular light and sound phenomena, and through loud bangs on the walls. It was in particular Björnram who led these necromantic ceremonies. The other type of magic, evocation, was based on classical ritual magic as described by Cornelius Agrippa in his De occulta philosophia, and in various handbooks such as Heptameron, Arbatel, Clavicula Solomonis, and Divina magia (all of which have survived as translations into Swedish in manuscript form among Reuterholm’s papers). The last of these would towards the end of the nineteenth century become famous as The Book of the Sacred Magic of Abramelin the Mage when it was translated into English, together with an additional manuscript, by the Golden Dawn leader MacGregor Mathers. Again, the primary aim seems to have been to divine the future through communication with angels and other entities. In addition to necromancy and evocation, Duke Charles and his colleagues used other forms of divination, such as bibliomancy (using the Bible), and a peculiar form a divination called sållningen (sieving), in which a small sieve was turned while questions were being asked. The answers were then divined according to the position of the sieve.

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One striking aspect of the work carried out by this group of magicians is the interest they took in folk or popular forms of magic, in particular the type of magic associated with cunning men and women. One telling example is the importance placed on the divinations performed by a “mamsell Arfvidson”. Ulrika Arfvidson, who lived in a less prosperous part of Stockholm (kvarteret Träsket) and who was well-known in the 1780s as a practitioner of tasseomancy, i.e., the practise of divination or fortune-telling through the interpretation of coffee grounds, was visited by many people who belonged to the upper echelons of Swedish society, including Reuterholm who describes one of his visits to Arfvidson in Maçonnique händelser. The interest in popular forms of magic indicates that the border between learned magic and folk or popular magic is often difficult to draw in eighteenth-century discourses on magic in Sweden.

Books of Black Art

The difficulty of differentiating between learned and folk magic becomes apparent when discussing the so-called Books of Black Art (Svartkonstböcker), which were popular in Sweden during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. These handbooks in magic were partly influenced by the continental grimoire tradition, and often included magical seals, incantations in Hebrew and Greek, and many times allude, through their titles, to well-known grimoires such as Clavicula Salomonis, the Key of Solomon. They differ from traditional grimoires, however, through the inclusion of themes that derive from folk magic, such as various remedies and cures associated with cunning men and women, local ritual practices associated with the wellbeing of one’s livestock, gaining of luck, attraction, and so forth. Another typical aspect is the inclusion of runes and rune calendars, which often were interpreted as having magical properties. According to popular belief, this type of books could be acquired through a pact with the Devil, and even though there actually is very little evil or “black” magic in the books, they had a sinister reputation and the possession of such books could lead to serious problems with the authorities. An illustrative example of such a Book of Black Art is the Salomonic Magical Arts: The Red Book and The Black Book, recently translated into English by Fredrik Eytzinger (2013). The book was first published by Paul Heurgren in 1918, with the full title Salomoniska Magiska Konster, Utdrag ur en Westboprests Svartkonstböcker. Ur friherre Gabriel Djurklou’s till Örebro Läns Museum donerade handskriftsamling (Salomonic Magical Arts. Excerpts from a Priest’s Books of Black Magic, from the Collection of Manuscripts Donated by Freiherr Gabriel Djurklou to Örebro County Museum). The book was based on a

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manuscript by Gabriel Djurklou, who in in the early 1870s travelled in southern Sweden as superintendent for the Swedish National Heritage Board (Riksan­ tikva­rieämbetet). One of the things that Djurklou collected, was Books of Black Art, and he was delighted when a young priest lent him two manuscripts on the Black Art that he had discovered. The two manuscripts were untitled, but were given the names The Red Book and The Black Book due to the colouring of the covers. The manuscripts turned out to have been written mainly by Johannes Gaslander (1718–1793), pastor and parson in the parish of Sandvik. The manuscripts were passed on to his son, Sven Peter Gaslander (1754–1833), district taxation registrar, who was known as a magician (Eytzinger 2013: 12–13). It is significant that the manuscripts passed from father to son, as most of these books were more or less personal handbooks, compiled by their authors for personal use, rather than for commercial benefit. Also, passing on knowledge about magic and other arcane sciences as some sort of family secret is well attested in Sweden at that time – see for instance Ulfvenklou’s claim to have learned magic from his great uncle, discussed above. As mentioned, The Red Book and The Black Book can be seen as illustrative examples of this particular genre of magical literature, and they contain the mixture of grimoire elements and folk magic discussed above. Significantly, the original manuscript of The Black Book was found together with a printed copy of a rune calendar by Sven Digelius, printed 1755. Finally, mention should be made of Emanuel Linder­ holm’s Signelser ock besvärjelser från medeltid ock nutid (Magical For­mulas from the Middle Ages and the Contemporary Period, 1917–1940), which contains a wide range of spells and magical formulas for the banishing of disease, possession, fulfilment of wishes, and so forth, although the vast majority of the materials contained in the work technically falls under the category of folk magic, and is thus outside the scope of the present chapter.

References

Bogdan, Henrik, “Modern Western Magic”, Aries: Journal for the Study of Western Eso­ tericism, 12:1 (2012), 1–13. Carleson, Robert, “Affären Boheman”, in: Hertig Carl och det svenska frimureriet, Uppsala: Forskningslogen Carl Friedrich Eckleff, 2010, 359–372. ——— . “Den esoteriska kretsen”, in: Hertig Carl och det svenska frimureriet, Uppsala: Forskningslogen Carl Friedrich Eckleff, 2010, 279–297. Davies, Owen, Grimoires: A History of Magic Books, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009.

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Eytzinger, Fredrik, Salomonic Magical Arts: Being two Swedish Books of Black Art, Richmond Vista, CA: Three Hands Press, 2013. [Fredell, Peter], Förteckning på afledne kongl. hof-predikantens och kyrkoherdens Fredells efterlemnade boksamling, Stockholm, 1788. Gothus, Laurentius Paulinus, Ethicae christianae, second edition, 1633. Häll, Jan, I Swedenborgs labyrint. Studier i de gustavianska swedenborgarnas liv och tänkande, Stockholm: Atlantis, 1995. Lamm, Martin, Upplysningstidens romantik. Den mystiskt sentimentala strömningen i svensk litteratur, Stockholm: Hugo Gebers Förlag, 1918, 1920. Lekeby, Kjell, Esoterica i Svenska Frimurarordens arkiv 1776–1803, Stockholm: Pleiaderna, 2011. ———. Gustaf Adolf Reuterholms hemliga arkiv från 1780-talet, Stockholm: Pleiaderna, 2011. ——— . Gustaviansk mystik. Alkemister, kabbalister, magiker, andeskådare, astrologer och skattgrävare i den esoteriska kretsen kring G.A. Reuterholm, hertig Carl och hertiginnan Charlotte 1776–1803, Sala/Södermalm: Vertigo Förlag, 2010. Linderholm, Emanuel, Signelser ock besvärjelser från medeltid ock nutid, Stockholm: Norstedt, 1917–1940. Oja, Linda, Varken Gud eller natur. Synen på magi i 1600- och 1700-talets Sverige, Stock­ holm/Stehag: Brutus Östlings Bokförlag Symposium, 1999. Otto, Bernd-Christian and Michael Stausberg (eds.), Defining Magic: A Reader, Sheffield: Equinox Publishing, 2013. Reuterholm, Gustav, Samling af Maçonnique händelser (SFMO:s arkiv 121.63). Sveriges framtid förestäld uti en syn för sällskapet M[etatron] natten emellan d: 11 och 12 november 1771 (SFMO:s arkiv 121.106).

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Chapter 32 Martinus

Martinus Cosmology Helle Bertelsen

Introduction

Martinus Thomsen, who was later to be known by his first name only, was born in humble circumstances on 11 August 1890 in Sindal, a small provincial town in the Northern part of the Danish peninsula of Jutland. His schooling was limited to a few years at the village school, in which teaching took place twice a week during summer and autumn. At the age of twelve he became a herd boy, and four years later he began his apprenticeship as a dairyman. He worked in various dairies in different parts of Denmark. Later on he became a watchman, and in 1920 he was employed as an office clerk at the dairy Enigheden in Copenhagen. During two days in 1921, Martinus Thomsen, then aged thirty, had two spiritual revelations. He had borrowed a book on Theosophical meditation practices and reincarnation from a friend, Lars Nibelvang (1879–1948). Guided by the directions on how to meditate found in the book, Martinus began meditating on the concept of God. During the first meditation, Martinus suddenly had some extraordinary experiences, which he later called “the white baptism of fire”. It was succeeded the next day by “the golden baptism of fire”. The allusion to the concept of “fire” refers to the luminous states in these revelations and the “baptism” to the divine initiation that Martinus recorded had taken place. Martinus felt a unity with God during these meditations, and he had the impression that the very consciousness of God was incarnated in him. He described this experience as a profound transformation of consciousness, a permanent state that never left him, a state in which he had direct access to divine knowledge and in which he was able ‘to apprehend all the main spiritual forces, invisible causes, eternal world laws, basic energies, and basic principles behind the physical world. The mystery of existence was therefore no longer a mystery to me. I had become conscious of the life of the whole Universe, and had been initiated into the “Divine Creative Principle”’ (Martinus, On the Birth of my Mission, ch. 20). According to the traditions of the Martinus movement, this decisive initiation into cosmic consciousness took place on 24 March 1921, and therefore this date is regarded as the birthday of the Martinus mission or “The Cause”.

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Biographical accounts of Martinus Thomsen are inconclusive about the Theosophical inspiration for Martinus’ spiritual revelation. Martinus himself rejected any suggestion that his revelations were inspired by Theosophy. It is emphasised that Martinus never finished reading the Theosophical book on meditation, and that he was not at all well read at the time of his spiritual experiences. To put it another way, it is an important part of the self-image of the Martinus circle that there is one source only for his insight and calling, namely God. The only mundane inspiration openly acknowledged by Martinus was his Christian childhood education. Elsewhere, however, one can read that Nibel­ vang had introduced Martinus to Theosophy just before Martinus received his revelations (Kosmos 1948–01, available online at ). No matter what the true sequence of events may have been, it is a fact that Martinus moved in Theosophical and Anthroposophical circles and communicated his teachings there in the period immediately after his spiritual revelation. From the middle of the twentieth century, however, the connections with these milieus were severed. Martinus insisted on his spiritual affinity to the Christian tradition in spite of many elements of ultimately Indian origin but probably mediated by Theosophical, Anthroposophical, and other esoteric sources. For instance, Martinus’ teaching incorporates conceptions of karma, reincarnation, energies, and levels of energy.

Martinus’ Writings and Message

A few years were to pass, though, before Martinus could devote himself entirely to his mission. Of crucial importance was the fact that Lars Nibelvang from the very beginning was convinced that Martinus had gained access to a form of cosmic consciousness. As a consequence, he became Martinus’ first intellectual and financial supporter. Later on, other friends helped with economic support, and Martinus could therefore devote himself entirely to his spiritual work from the autumn of 1922. It was a challenge from the outset that Martinus was not thoroughly familiar with a conceptual framework capable of communicating his metaphysical experiences in writing. Therefore, the first medium for communicating his message was to draw and colour geometrical symbols of what he saw as the true cosmic structure of the universe. These characteristic symbols can be seen as conspicuous symbols of his life work and function even today as important didactic tools or “maps” for presenting Martinus’ cosmology.

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By 1928, Martinus had become experienced enough as a writer to begin producing the first volume of his major work Livets Bog (The Book of Life), which appeared in 1932 in 2,000 copies. The final and seventh volume was published in 1961. He then set about writing Det evige verdensbillede (The Eternal World Picture, 4 vols.), Bisættelse (Funeral), Logik (Logic), and about thirty shorter books, together with numerous articles published in the magazine Kosmos. In 1971 the Danish publishing house Borgen offered to publish Martinus’ complete works under the collective title he had given it, Det Tredje Testamente (The Third Testament), an obvious reference to Christianity. In addition, Marti­ nus contributed to various magazines. For example, his first series of articles appeared in Skandinavisk Blad for Moderne Okkultisme (Scandinavian Maga­ zine for Modern Occultism) in 1933. Martinus regarded his writings as having a pivotal role in the mission he was selected to carry out. The mission was to pass on the message of a new redemption of the world, consisting of a newly formulated doctrine of wisdom and love. Martinus perceived himself as belonging to a line of prominent religious messengers like Buddha, Jesus, and Muhammad. He thought that his message, in contrast to the earlier ones, appealed to modern and scientifically-minded people, who had a spiritual need for knowledge rather than blind faith. This was not meant to be a critique of previous deliverers’ messages; it was just that their communications were appropriate for an earlier stage of cosmic evolution. Behind this notion is the thought that God’s spirit or consciousness flows through the entire universe by means of various impulses or streams of energy. This means that all living creatures are embarked on an endless journey in the divine consciousness, and that this unitary consciousness moves forward in an upward spiral movement, thus constituting a progressive evolution of consciousness. According to Martinus, the Earth is right now in contact with three universal impulses. The first, expressed in “primitive” people’s consciousness, is disappearing while the second, expressed in classical religious traditions, is fading. The new and growing universal impulse is or will be characterised by a paradigm shift, in which the natural sciences will be united with insights from Eastern mystical traditions – a combination of science and spirit as it were. Hence the characterisation of Martinus’ work both as Martinus’ spiritual science and as Martinus Cosmology (a term that also in English-language sources is spelled without an apostrophe after Martinus’ name). This combination is reflected in the purportedly “scientific” approach of his teaching. Martinus’ books are meant to provide a systematic exposition of the structure of the universe, focusing on the principles and laws that, according to his view, operate in the cosmos. Likewise, the simple and colourful symbols function as diagrams that lend his teaching a scientific touch. His analyses have particularly

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been used in a reinterpretation of Christianity, by which he claimed to “prove” the truth in Christianity. But Martinus’ analyses are used in addressing all aspects of life, and it is characteristic of Martinus and adherents of The Cause today that they often concern themselves with recent scientific research or current issues as explained on the basis of Martinus Cosmology.

Evolution of the Cause

In the first years after his two spiritual experiences, Martinus held small study groups at private gatherings in, among others, Anthroposophical circles. From 1930 onwards he began addressing larger audiences with public lectures, e.g., at Borups Højskole, a centre for adult education in Copenhagen with a capacity of approximately 500 people. In the same period, Martinus employed a secretary, Erik Gerner Larsson (1907–1973), who would take care of the practicalities of arranging lectures and study groups all around Denmark. Other employees were included later on. The monthly magazine Kosmos was launched in 1933 and still functions as the official journal of The Cause. Ten yearly issues of this publication appear, in a print run of 1,000 copies. It carries such items as talks and articles by Martinus, retrospective looks at the history of The Cause, articles on current issues, news from the Martinus Institute, and so forth. In 1935 Kosmos Koloni (Cosmos Camp), now renamed the Martinus Centre, was inaugurated in the town of Klint in Northern Zealand, Denmark. The purpose of the camp was to give those with an interest in The Cause an opportunity to spend the summer with like-minded people in restful surroundings, studying The Book of Life. In 1946 the camp was expanded considerably by the acquisition of the neighbouring manor Klintsøgård, but due to financial problems the manor buildings later had to be sold. The present lecture hall, seating 200, was built on the plot instead. The Martinus Centre is nowadays described as a modern education centre, where the focal point for activities and projects is the cosmology of Martinus based on The Third Testament. The goal of the centre’s activities is to create a ‘loving and tolerant atmosphere’, where interested people can be introduced to Martinus’ spiritual science, or continue advancing in their studies, and at the same time have an opportunity to meet like-minded individuals. At present, the centre has accommodation for about 200 people in apartments, houses, cabins, and a camping site. In addition to the lecture hall, it includes study rooms, library, and a vegetarian restaurant and café. Summer courses are held during six weeks every summer, each week offering a series of lectures on a new subject. The centre is visited by approximately

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1,000 people every summer, many of whom stay for more than just one week. Two weeks are singled out as international weeks, in which guests can receive information about Martinus Cosmology in English, German, Dutch, and Esperanto, the latter being the official language of The Cause. Even though the place primarily hosts activities during summer, activities have taken place outside the high season since 1984–1985. In 2014, for example, one could sample lectures, weekend courses, workshops, conferences, weekly courses, and – as a token of the spirit of the times – a retreat. The range of the subjects is wide, but apart from concrete instruction in Martinus’ world view, emphasis is typically placed on how an individual human being succeeds in applying Martinus’ world view in practice, e.g., by transforming undesirable patterns of thought into positive and constructive ones, or how to interpret and meet the challenges of life, whether problematic relationships, illness or other concerns. The aim is to create a better and more humane global kingdom of love on Earth; a society on a higher spiritual level where every living being is guaranteed peace, justice, and a truly happy life.

Spiritual Practice

Considering that Martinus’ religious breakthrough took place through meditation, and that his work contains countless references to Christianity and many concepts reminiscent of a Theosophical world view, one might expect that a place like the Martinus Centre in Klint would contain a colourful palette of different methods for spiritual self-development. However, that is not the case. At the practical level, Martinus Cosmology could be characterised as almost puritanical. For example, there are no Martinus-based services to attend, nor are there any other ritual activities to participate in, and while the décor of the centre in Klint certainly displays Martinus’ many symbols, it is otherwise devoid of religious references. Martinus’ reason for this was that the Centre should be a place where people would have no religious doctrines imposed on them, since he was convinced that people who were attracted to his cosmology were already fed up with what he labelled ‘denominations and spiritual sectarianism’. Hence the guidelines for the centre state that prayer, meditation or other forms of rituals, exercises or joint activities with a religious character may not take place (Martinus 2003: 80). The only day that is jointly celebrated is the commemoration day of Martinus’ birth on 8 August, which coincides with the closing of the summer courses at Klint. Martinus did not completely discourage people from meditating. He did, however, recommend that only people with deep spiritual insight should make

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use of meditation techniques, since such methods might otherwise lead to serious mental harm. Instead he pointed to individual prayer as available to everyone. Prayer – especially the Lord’s Prayer – could establish an intimate relationship with divinity and should always have a positive purpose (Kosmos 2001/3).

The Institute in Copenhagen

In 1943, The Cause was offered a large house on favourable terms at Marien­ dalsvej 94–96 in Copenhagen. A couple of years later, the Martinus Institute was established at this address. The newly restored building now functions as headquarters of Martinus’ work, and houses a lecture hall, a publishing company for his books and for the magazine Kosmos, as well as the administration of the Martinus Centre in Klint. Martinus himself lived in a small flat in the house until his death in 1981. The flat is now preserved as a site in commemoration of Martinus – the same goes, by the way, for his birthplace Moskildvad in Sindal. According to its bylaws, the institute has a strictly circumscribed function. The bylaws were revised in collaboration with Martinus in 1980 and collected in the book Samarbejdsstrukturen (Structure of Collaboration), which was published in 1982, the year after his death. The objects of the institute are defined as follows: ‘With all its activities and all the resources at its disposal the institute must serve the following non-profit-making objectives: to preserve Mar­tinus’ works unchanged as he left them, inform the public about these works, and make these works available for those who may be interested through publishing, translation and teaching in appropriate ways’. The institute fulfils this aim this by administrating publishing activities and by arranging lectures every other Saturday, and study groups three days a week during the winter. One finds active study groups all around Denmark, and there are regular talks in large towns. As mentioned before, the main activities during summer take place at the Martinus Centre in Klint. As for the dissemination of Martinus’ books and thoughts abroad, an extensive translation effort has been made. A bibliography from 2014 shows that parts of The Third Testament or other works by Martinus have been translated into twenty different languages (see ). The interest in translations has obviously been greater in certain countries rather than others. For example almost the entire collected works and the monthly magazine Kosmos have been translated into Swedish. Kosmos is also published in English, German, Dutch, and Esperanto in editions that have been abridged to

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varying extents. On the whole, many employees at the institute have made a great effort to disseminate knowledge of Martinus and his cosmology outside Denmark.

Martinus Activities outside the Martinus Institute

Looking for Martinus-related activities in Denmark outside the auspices of the Martinus Institute, one can find many courses, lectures, and other educational initiatives. These activities can roughly be divided into two groups. The first group takes Martinus’ teachings as the point of departure, analysing, communicating, and interpreting events, scientific theories, and facts in the light of Martinus Cosmology. Lectures will typically give a spiritual interpretation of some current scientific finding. Quite a few well-known names from the Martinus Institute involve themselves in these efforts as speakers. One can also in this group include a few publishing companies which print books with Martinus’ ideas as a main subject, including Nordisk Impuls (Nordic Impulse) and Kosmologisk Information (Cosmological Information). Martinus Cosmol­ ogy is in the present period also amply represented on Internet: there are websites such as < http://www.Martinusguiden.dk> and , and Marti­nus-related Facebook and twitter accounts. The second group is characterised by a less loyal relation to Martinus Cos­ mology. People involved in these activities can be said to use Martinus’ work as an inspiration, often combined with other spiritual sources of inspiration. Thus, a research project the results of which were published in 2007 shows that a number of Danish alternative spiritual therapists and healers see Martinus as one source of inspiration that can be combined with the teachings of such variously Theo­sophy-related personalities as Rudolph Steiner, Alice Bailey, and Krishna­murti (Ahlin 2007: 144). According to Martinus, all such initiatives belong to The Cause, but do not fall under the Institute’s area of responsibility. The Institute depends on this creative “undergrowth”, since its own activities are limited to communicating Martinus’ authorised teachings only.

Martinus Outside Denmark

Looking at other Nordic countries, Martinus Cosmology gained its first foothold in Iceland, at first due to the translation into Icelandic of a small booklet in 1935. This relation became more personal later on, as Martinus visited the island six times from 1952 to 1970, at the outset by invitation from the president of the Icelandic Theosophical society. The last record of lectures on the island

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by people from the Martinus Institute is from 1980 (see ). In Norway and Finland the level of activity is modest, while Sweden is the country outside Denmark where one finds the largest interest in Martinus. The first book in Swedish was published in 1950, and various contacts were established during the 1950s supported by letters in Swedish translation (superseded in 1967 by the Swedish edition of the Kosmos magazine) and study groups in Stockholm, Gothenburg, and Jönköping. Between 1962 and 1969, Martinus travelled to Sweden in order to give lectures, with the inauguration in Stockholm of Stiftelsen Martinus Institut i Sverige (The Foundation Martinus Institute in Sweden) in 1966 as one of the highlights. Other Swedish Martinus sympathisers financed a holiday house in Klint (known as Svenskerhuset, i.e., the Swedes’ house) with the aim of catering specifically to Swedish guests. Over the years, Martinus’ works have been successively translated into Swedish. Today interest in Martinus Cosmology is concentrated around the centre in Stockholm, which functions as an extension of the Danish Institute but with its own bylaws. Swedish lecturers regularly give guest lectures at the Martinus Centre in Klint, testifying to the important role that Sweden has come to play in the dissemination of Martinus’ ideas. As in Denmark, one finds in Sweden an “undergrowth” of activities with a more or less explicit point of departure in Martinus Cosmology, to varying extents combined with other sources of inspiration. A couple of examples are the foundation Stiftelsen KOSMOS – Varhem, which is specifically dedicated to spreading the teachings of Martinus, and the Solsökehem kursgård, which offers lectures on Martinus Cosmology as well as numerous other spiritual and self-help topics. The impact of Martinus Cosmology in the rest of the world is lower than that in Scandinavia. There are a number of active study groups in Germany, but generally speaking, and despite a considerable effort with translations and lectures abroad, there is no evidence of any significant breakthrough for the move­ment worldwide.

The Influence of Martinus in Denmark Today

Over the years, Martinus worked diligently as a speaker and author, and when he died in 1981 at the age of 90, he left a large written work as well as the autonomous Martinus Institute. In a 2007 exhibition, The Third Testament, opening in his birth town Sindal, he was nonetheless characterised as ‘the best kept

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public secret in Denmark’ (quoted from the Danish newspaper Kristeligt Dagblad, 9 May 2007). One reason for this relative anonymity is the fact that Martinus wished that his person or work should not be made into an object of any association, new religion, sect, or global organisation. He considered his work as a kind of school, college or institution for a science of life. Martinus Cos­mology, it is said, embraces all existence and according to that logic all human beings are already in advance members of this totality – which is one reason why one cannot sign in for a membership in a Martinus movement. In the light of these facts, it can be hard to estimate how large the interest in Martinus was and is, at the time of writing more than thirty years after his death. There is a report in Martinus’ erindringer (Martinus’ Memoirs) of a talk given in 1951–1952 in a hall seating 550, but whether the audience filled the hall is not mentioned. A somewhat more accurate indicator is Martinus’ 70th birthday celebration, which was attended by 400 people. At his 90th birthday, 1,200 guests from home and abroad gathered, and when Martinus died the next year, 1,400 people attended the funeral service (his coffin was placed in a mausoleum in Frederiksberg Ældre Kirkegård [Old Cemetery], Copenhagen). In Denmark, at least, there are signs of a growing interest. The Danish newspaper Kristeligt Dagblad assessed in 2005 that the interest in movements with a spiritual and philosophical outlook is growing and estimated that about 2,000 people at that time participated in study groups based on Martinus Cosmology. The same newspaper estimated that the number ten years earlier had been about 1,200 (Løwendahl & Læsøe 2005).

References

Ahlin, Lars, Krop, sind – eller ånd? Copenhagen: Forlaget Univers, 2007. Bertelsen, Helle, “Martinus’ åndsvidenskab”, in: Rene D. Pedersen (ed.), I Lysets Tjeneste, Copenhagen: Forlaget Univers, 2005, 74–95. Buch, Tage, “Klintebilleder” (Film). Hermansen, Bo Dahl, “Fra Teosofi til Martinus åndsvidenskab” in: Mette Buchardt & Pia R. Böwadt (eds.), Den gamle nyreligiøsitet, Copenhagen: Forlaget Anis, 2003, 117–138. Løwendahl, Dorthe Hein & Kathrine Læsøe, “Nyreligiøse bevægelser mister medlemmer”, Kristeligt Dagblad, 14 June 2005. Martinus, Martinus Kosmologi. En introduktion, Copenhagen: Martinus Institut, 1990. ——— . “On the birth of my mission”, in: The Road to initiation, Valby: Borgen, 1990. ——— . The Third Testament, Martinus Instituttet, 1999. ——— . Samarbejdsstrukturen, Valby: Borgens Forlag, 2003.

Martinus Steens, Jørgen, “Den ‘hemmelige’ Martinus”, Kristeligt Dagblad, 9 May 2007. Zinglersen, Sam, Martinus erindringer, Frederiksberg: Zinglersens Forlag, 1987. ——— . Martinus som vi husker ham, Frederiksberg: Zinglersens Forlag, 1990.

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Chapter 33 Mesmerism in Denmark

Mesmerism in Denmark Søren Bak-Jensen

The Introduction of Animal Magnetism in Denmark

Animal magnetism was a controversial subject among Danish medical doctors, scientists, and philosophers in the decades around 1800. Furthermore, it was a procedure that went from being rejected by scientific and medical authorities in the late eighteenth century to being the subject of positive interest and scrutiny in the early nineteenth century. The history of animal magnetism in Denmark centres on this period of time, and the changing fortunes of animal magnetism relate closely to more general changes in the view of reason, imagination, and the nature of human consciousness in this period. Danish medical doctors were acquainted with the theories of animal magnetism proposed by Franz Anton Mesmer from early on, and the fact that his rise and fall was recorded in the Danish medical press testifies to the attention Mesmer gained in late eighteenth-century Europe. Danish medical journals informed readers of Mesmer’s magnetic cures in Vienna in the mid-1770s, his move to Paris and rapid success there, and one of Mesmer’s books was even reviewed for a Danish medical audience. Mesmer’s claim that he had discovered a new and revolutionary healing method was generally dismissed in these reports, and there was an overbearing attitude regarding what was seen as a harmless scam affecting only hysterical high-society women. Accounts stressed the sexual undertones of the magnetic treatments and the violent convulsions and faintings they produced, but also foresaw that animal magnetism would not be able to reach the same level of popularity in level-headed Denmark as it had in more impulsive France. There is evidence to suggest that some medical doctors found it worthwhile to conduct investigations into Mesmer’s claim that a hitherto unknown but very powerful universal magnetic fluid existed in the universe, something that testifies to the neutrality of the early reception of mesmerism in Denmark. The attitude towards animal magnetism changed markedly in the late 1780s, however, with the first reports of the magnetic somnambules produced by Armand Marie Jacques Chastenet, Marquis de Puységur (1751–1825), and his primarily German followers. Accounts of clairvoyant patients looking inside their own bodies and communicating their visions to the magnetiser made

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several Danish medical doctors take a strong stand against magnetic treatments. Johan Clemens Tode (1736–1806), professor of medicine at the University of Copenhagen and a central figure behind several medical journals, saw a real threat in the treatments. To him, the effects of the magnetic manipulations had nothing to do with a mysterious, imponderable fluid, just as he placed no confidence in the visions of the somnambules. Rather, he regarded the power of the treatment to emanate from the strong sexual emotions provoked in the (usually female) patient by the hands of the (usually male) magnetiser. In this situation, Tode argued, the imagination of the patient would run wild and produce the dramatic effects that could admittedly be observed in the magnetised patient. And since Tode regarded over-excitement of the imagination, and consequent loss of reason, as a health risk, he warned against any attempts at introducing animal magnetic treatments in Denmark. Tode was supported by several prominent physicians during the 1790s and early 1800s. It is nevertheless clear that even though medical authorities were thus publicly opposed to animal magnetism, the method was the subject of positive interest in other parts of society. According to the historian Louis Bobé, animal magnetic treatment was administered to the insane King Christian VII in an attempt to improve his condition. Bobé also states that a young Swedish girl was magnetised and brought to a clairvoyant state in front of several members of the Danish royal family in 1790. The interest in animal magnetism and somnambulism in the highest circles of Danish society is confirmed by the visit, in 1793, by Johan Casper Lavater (1741–1801) to Denmark upon the invitation by Prince Charles of Hesse-Cassel (1744–1836) and the Danish Prime Minister A.P. Bernstorff (1735–1797). Lavater, a German priest and central figure in the promotion of animal magnetism in Germany from the late 1780s onwards, attributed divine qualities to the somnambule. This view fit well with the attitudes of the small circle of Illuminates around Prince Charles of HesseCassel and A.P. Bernstorff.

The Nineteenth Century

In the early years of the nineteenth century, a positive attitude towards animal magnetic treatments became visible among the leading figures of the Romantic movement in Denmark. In 1803, the young Hans Christian Ørsted (1777–1851) visited several of the most prominent advocates of animal magnetism in Germany and reported enthusiastically on the potential of the treatments. The Swedish obstetrician and magnetiser Pehr Gustaf Cederschjöld (1782–1848), who practised in Copenhagen in 1811, claimed that Ørsted was then himself

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performing animal magnetic treatments. The poet Adam Oehlenschläger (1779–1850) regarded animal magnetism as the most important scientific development at the time. Frederik Christian Sibbern (1785–1872), professor of philosophy at the University of Copenhagen, argued in 1816 that the somnambule state was closely related to genius, in that both conditions depended upon the awakening of otherwise dormant abilities in human beings. Around that time, the first medical doctors also started to speak openly in favour of a renewed interest in animal magnetism. Copenhagen surgeon Christian Wilhelm Wendt (1778–1838) praised those who had the courage to enter into an open-minded exploration of this method for the benefit of mankind. And in 1818, German-born Joachim Dietrich Brandis (1762–1845), who practised as a respected and high-ranking doctor in Copenhagen from 1810 onwards, published a comprehensive account of the positive effects of animal magnetism for medical science. According to Brandis, the somnambulist patient offered privileged insights into the workings of the human mind and body. A change had thus taken place in the way that prominent medical doctors talked about animal magnetism. It is difficult to judge the impact that the idea of animal magnetism had on the population more generally, just as we know nothing of the extent to which animal magnetic treatments were taken up by lay healers. Yet it is clear that the practical application of animal magnetism reached a level that brought it to the attention of the highest authorities. In 1816, King Frederik VI decided that animal magnetic treatments could only be carried out under the supervision of a medical doctor, and that a written report relaying the unfolding of every treatment should be sent to the National Board of Health. The decision was a compromise between a perceived need to regulate a potentially dangerous or corruptive healing method, and pressure from medical doctors who wanted to examine the method in practice. The legis­ lation testifies to a widespread interest in animal magnetism among Danish medical doctors. But it also means that a unique source material concerning the practical application of animal magnetism was created in the archives of the National Board of Health. Over the next fifteen years, more than fifty reports were filed. The reports make it clear that medical doctors were generally not optimistic concerning the therapeutic potential of animal magnetism. When it was used on patients, it was as a last resort. Judging from the reports, it seems that the more mystical aspects of the magnetisations were the primary attraction, and the doctors involved generally showed great interest in the clairvoyant abilities of the somnambule. In several cases, the animal magnetic sessions took on the appearance of an exploration of the somnambule state rather than an attempt to cure the patient. Medical doctors tested the epistemological abilities of

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somnambules by asking them to predict the unfolding of their disease, to look inside their own bodies, or to read books placed on their stomachs. The National Board of Health had no objections to these procedures and seems to have regarded animal magnetic treatments that produced somnambule patients as the most interesting ones. Little attention was paid to treatments that actually appeared to benefit the patient, but did not produce somnambules. The reports also show that animal magnetism was tried on male as well as female patients. The magnetisations would be performed either by the medical doctor or by a non-medical person, but in all cases the magnetiser was male. Part of the explanation for the shift from a highly negative to a positive attitude towards animal magnetism among Danish medical doctors during the decades around 1800 probably lies in the change in attitudes towards reason and imagination that accompanied the waning of the Enlightenment and the beginning of Romanticism. The latter involved a strong interest in the irrational and emotional aspects of the human mind, very different from the negative view of the imagination expressed by, e.g., Tode. The Romantics regarded reason alone to be incapable of understanding the world in its totality. In order to reach such insight, reason had to be coupled with its antithesis, the imagination, in an equal relationship. The animal magnetic session with its (at least discursively) healthy, rational, male magnetiser mysteriously connected with a diseased, irrational, female patient, seemed to offer a way of achieving such an epistemologically powerful union. Rather than a new healing method, the animal magnetism of the early nineteenth century was thus a way to explore aspects of the world believed to be inaccessible to the reason of the Enlight­ enment. In that perspective, it is also logical that medical doctors lost interest in animal magnetism when Romanticism took on a less mystical appearance around 1830. Consequently, Denmark did not experience the mid-nineteenth century interest in animal magnetism and the early explorations of hypnotism that may be observed in the United Kingdom or North America. The exception is the magnetiser Carl Hansen (1833–1897), who put on magnetic and hypnotic performances in Copenhagen and other Danish towns in the early 1860s. In the 1930s, an organisation by the name of Dansk Magnetopathisk Forening (Danish Magnetopathic Association), led by Valdemar Borkfeldt, published pamphlets on the power of the magnetic fluid first described by Mesmer, but the association did not attract many followers. In Denmark, animal magnetism never again reached the level of interest and discussion seen in the decades around 1800.

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References

Bak-Jensen, Søren, Den dyriske magnetisme og de danske læger 1775–1830, unpublished M.A. thesis, University of Copenhagen, 1999. ——— . “De danske lægers modtagelse af mesmerismen – historien om en lægevidenskabelig holdningsændring ved overgangen fra Oplysningstid til Romantik”, Bibliotek for Læger, 192(4), (2000), 356–75. ——— . “Mesmerismen mellem følelse og fornuft. Brud og kontinuitet i en lægevidenskabelig debat 1780–1830”, 1066 Tidsskrift for Historie 31(2), (2001), 3–11. Bjørn, Claus, (ed.), Reise Bemerkungen Sr. Excellenz des Herrn Geheime Staats Ministers und Kammerpræsidenten Grafen v. Reventlow auf einer Reise durch die Herzogthümer im Jahre 1796, Kerteminde: Landbohistorisk Selskab, 1994. Bobé, Louis (ed.), Johan Caspar Lavaters Rejse til Danmark i Sommeren 1793, Copenhagen: Lehmanns og Stages Forlag, 1898. Brandis, Joachim Dietrich, Ueber psychische Heilmittel und Magnetismus, Copenhagen: Gyldendalische Buchhandlung, 1818. Cederschjöld, Pehr Gustaf, Journal för Animal Magnetism, Stockholm, 1815–21. Dansk Magnetopatisk Forenings Kampskrift, Aarhus, 1939. Friedrichsen, Fr., Hufelands mærkelige Resultater af den dyriske Magnetisme. Anden med de væsentligste Grundtræk af Dr. Stieglitz’s Bog om Magnetismen forøgede Udgave, Copenhagen: n.p., 1817. Hansen, Uffe, Psykoanalysens fortrængte fortid. Hypnotisøren Carl Hansen og Sigmund Freud, Copenhagen: Akademisk Forlag, 1991. Helveg, Hans Zacharias, Nogle Betragtninger over den dyriske Magnetismes Ubrugelighed som Lægemiddel, og sammes skadelige Følger, Odense: n.p., 1821. Holm, R.A., “Om den saakaldte ‘dyriske Magnetisme’”, Tidsskrift for populære Frem­ stillinger af Naturvidenskaben 3(1), (1864), 1–89. Johannisson, Karin, Magnetisörernas tid. Den animala magnetismen i Sverige, Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1974. Kluge, Carl Alexander Ferdinand, Fremstilling af den dyriske magnetisme som lægemiddel, Copenhagen: C.T. Steens Forlag, 1817. Koch, Peter Didrik, Nogle træk af den dyriske magnetismes (mesmerismens) historie, Copenhagen: Prior, 1889. Manicus, Claus, “Magnetismens senere skæbne”, Bibliothek for læger 10 (1844), 294–314. Mansa, F.W., “Den dyriske Magnetisme”, Dansk Ugeskrift 4 (1834), 98–99, 205–224. Preisz, Daniel, (ed.), Breve fra og til Adam Oehlenschläger. November 1809-oktober 1829, Copenhagen: Gyldendal, 1953–1980. Reiter, Paul J., “Hypnosis in Denmark”, in: F.L. Marcuse (ed.), Hypnosis Throughout the World, Springfield: Chas. C. Thomas Publ., 1964, 53–76.Mesmerism in Norway

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Chapter 34

Mesmerism in Norway Tonje Maria Mehren

Mesmerist Cures

Mesmerism never gained any major popularity in Norway. There was some interest in Mesmer’s theories among medical doctors, some clergymen and others at the beginning of the nineteenth century, and in the last two decades of the century there was renewed interest in animal magnetism and hypnosis among the medical profession and in the general public. Norwegians also became acquainted with more popular forms of mesmerism thanks to visits by mesmerists, especially from Denmark, in the second half of the nineteenth century. In his brief tract Magnetiske kure i Kristiania 1817–1821 (Magnetic Cures in Kristiania 1817–1821, published in 1886), Axel Theodor Johannessen (1849– 1926), a physician and subsequently professor, writes that Kristiania went through a period of “magnetic Sturm und Drang” in the years 1817–1821. According to Johannessen, Dr. Jens Grønbech Døderlein (1787–1867) was the first person in Norway to mention using animal magnetism. After having read Carl A.F. Kluge’s book Versuch einer Darstellung des animalischen Magnetismus als Heil­mittel (1811), Døderlein experimented with mesmerism. In a report written in 1818, he mentions several treatments, one of which was said to have been particularly successful. The patient was a young woman in her early twenties who suffered from hysteria. While she was undergoing Døderlein’s treatment, she could predict the times that changes would occur in her own condition, she could clairvoyantly see what the doctor had placed on her chest, and she was able to diagnose her own condition and determine what remedies would be efficient (in casu, garlic). Døderlein states that the woman recovered completely. In a report composed two years later, in 1821, Døderlein describes yet another successful treatment of a woman who had been suffering for years from headaches. In a somnambulistic state, she was able to determine that her pains had originally been caused by a blow to the head, and was able to prescribe medication that cured her. Another person who used magnetism at this time was Frederik Holst (1791–1871), a medical officer in Kristiania and subsequently professor of pharma­cology. Holst had visited Karl Christian Wolfart’s mesmerist clinic in

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Berlin while traveling abroad in 1819–1821, and he described his impressions in an article published in the magazine Budstikken (The Messenger). Here, Holst described a typical mesmerist séance. Wolfart used Mesmer’s invention, the baquet – a container filled with glass, sand, and iron – and had patients attached to it by ropes, rubbing metal bars that protruded from its midst. The large room where treatments were administered was darkly lit by means of a lamp covered in green cloth, which produced a dramatic effect in the dark evening. Holst relates that Wolfart’s treatments were not purely magnetic, and that he also used medication. Upon his return home, Holst tried out a magnetic cure on a woman who had suffered from cramps, and who was cured after having received daily treatments for three months. Holst specifically notes that the patient gave no signs of having clairvoyant abilities. Thereafter, mesmerism went into a period of decline, according to Axel Johan­nessen because the other professors of medicine at the University of Kristiania did not use the method or mention it in their lectures. Johannesen also says that one of the most frequently consulted and most highly regarded doctors in Kristiania, Martin Rasmus With (1788–1848), ridiculed the mesmerist movement. There are, however, other sources that record an interest in “vital magnetism” (a commonly used synonym for the expression animal magnetism) among medical students and others in the first decades of the nineteenth century. While he was a medical student, Christian Peter Bianco Boeck (1798–1877), who subsequently became professor of physiology, submitted a prize essay in medicine under the aegis of the Norwegian Student Society, with the title: “Can the theory of vital magnetism, or a theory based on the assumption of the proposition that there is a dynamic link between the individual organs of an organic body, between such a body and earthly, inorganic nature, between such a body and everything else in the mass that makes up the world, bring useful results for the practical exercise of medical science, or ought one here stick only to the experiential knowledge of the most immediate physical, chemical, and organic influences of the organs?” Boeck wrote an extensive study of “vital magnetism”, that was published as a supplement to the weekly magazine Hermoder (the name of the messenger of the gods in Norse mythology) in 1823. His presentation took its starting point in Mesmer, but he was especially influenced by mesmerism within a German Romantic tradition, and he dwelt on the higher abilities that could appear during mesmeric sleep and in a somnambulist state, such as clairvoyance, foresight, remote vision, and the gift of philosophical and poetical speech. Boeck, who (together with the geologist B.M. Keilhau) had discovered the Jotunheimen mountains as a hiking region for the bourgeoisie of Kristiania, found in mesmerism a confirmation of a Romantic view of nature.

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A member of the clergy who took an interest in vital magnetism was the Danish-Norwegian pastor and author Frederik Schmidt (1771–1840), who published a Norwegian translation of a small selection of texts from the works by the physician Jean Paul Richter, Mai-Krandsen: Et utvalg af Jean Paul Friderik Richters Værker (The May Garland: A Selection from Jean Paul Friderik Richter’s Works, 1820). A number of passages discussed “organic magnetism”. Schmidt, who commented in letters and diaries on the times in which he lived, and who was able to compare the situation in Norway with that in Denmark, thought that Norwegians were not particularly receptive to mesmerism. Another theologian who was interested in magnetism was the well-known pastor and educator Niels Hertzberg (1759–1841), who was also a physicist, astronomer, meteorologist, and physician. He thought that he had found in vital magnetism a definitive proof of the eternal life of the soul, independently of the Bible. Claus Pavels (1769–1822), bishop and author, borrowed two German books about magnetism from Hertzberg during a visitation that he carried out in the summer of 1818. Pavels writes in his diary that the books – one by J.D. Brandis and the other by C.A.F. Kluge – had strengthened him in his belief that there were many hidden powers in nature, and he believed that animal magnetism was one of the great discoveries of that age. Nevertheless, unlike his colleague Hertzberg, he did not rejoice at the new discovery – not even at ‘the remarkable words and actions of the clairvoyants’. The mystical implications of somnambulism and mesmerism were incompatible with Pavels’ Christian faith. For him, the central point of magnetism was that it could explain all of Jesus’ miraculous healings in a natural manner. He also hoped that neither he himself nor his family would ever need to get involved more closely with magnetism as an instrument of healing. In the summer of 1821, Pavels learned that mesmerism was fashionable in Kristiania’s learned circles. Christopher Hansteen, professor of astronomy and mathematics, told of Døderlein’s success with magnetism; he related that Michael Scheldrup, professor of medicine, had been converted by this, and that even the philosopher and politician Niels Treschow had been convinced. Another adherent of vital magnetism was the well-known lawyer and author Conrad Nicolai Swach (1793–1860), who was considered in the 1820s to be a great poet in Norway, but whose prestige diminished after new literary ideals came to prevail. We can also mention that Henrik Wergeland (1808–1845), the author and educator of the people, whom some regard as Norway’s most important lyric poet of all time, made a thorough study of the theories of magnetism when he began his medical studies in Kristiania in 1834. Wergeland had been trained as a theologian, but after he failed to obtain a position as pastor,

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he turned to medicine; he broke off his studies when he was appointed to a post as librarian at the University Library. In 1851, Frans Christian Faye (1806–1890), professor of medicine, mentioned the topic in a lecture held at the medical society of Kristiania. Faye had visited Scotland earlier that year, and he told his audience of two professors at the University of Edinburgh, Bennett and Simpson, who lectured on and experimented with animal magnetism. In his lecture, Faye dismissed the possibility of clairvoyance. In 1860, he held another lecture on animal magnetism, this time at the meeting in Copenhagen of the Scandinavian natural scientists’ congress, entitled “Nogle Bemærkninger om Hiernens sensitive og imaginative Evne i Relation til den saakaldte dyriske Magnetisme, Ecstase, Klarsyn, Hypno­ tisme” (Some Remarks Concerning the Sensitive and Imaginative Ability of the Brain in Relation to So-Called Animal Magnetism, Ecstasy, Clairvoyance, and Hypnotism). On this occasion, he revealed how he himself had operated on a patient in a magnetic sleep, and that he had no doubt that such a state existed. He suggested that this state could lead to the patient demonstrating extraordinary abilities, such as poetic inspiration or the ability to speak foreign languages fluently (xenoglossia). Faye insisted that these were examples of natural abilities that were heightened under magnetic sleep, and again dismissed the possibility that this state could result in clairvoyance or other paranormal abilities. The famous Danish mesmerist and hypnotist Carl Hansen (1833–1897) went on a tour to Norway and Sweden after the Danish police had prohibited him in November 1864 from hypnotising people in public. Hansen visited Kristiania in March 1868 and appeared in the Folketheater under the title “Underholdning i den dyriske Magnetisme” (Entertainment in Animal Magnetism). This was part of a larger show; the programme that evening included vaudeville and poetry reading. At this time, the interest in mesmerism was very limited both in Scandinavia and in the rest of Europe, and Hansen closed his business for a lengthy period of time after his tour. Not until the 1880s and 1890s does one again see a renewed interest in animal magnetism and hypnosis in Norway. Among the medical profession, hypnosis in particular was a topic of discussion at this time; one of the debated issues was whether this was a pathological condition. Mesmerism in its more spiritualist varieties was mainly of interest outside medical circles.

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“Vis-Knut” – A Magnetic Phenomenon on a Grand Scale

The best known Norwegian healing medium was the lay preacher Knut Ras­ mussen Nordgarden (1792–1876) from Gausdal in the Gudbrand Valley, also known as “Vis-Knut” (Wise Knut). He was celebrated for his ability to make diagnoses and to cure sicknesses by the laying-on of hands, and to find water veins and lost objects and animals. The author Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (1832– 1910) wrote a brief biography, Vis-Knut (Wise-Knut, 1878), of the man and his abilities, which was published in many languages and made the man known even outside Norway. Bjørnson himself, who made his home on the Aulestad farm, very near to Vis-Knut’s home, never met the “miracle doctor”, but he wrote about him: ‘There was a poetic explosive force in his mind that transformed ever little hour without pain into a paradise’. In a letter to the Danish author Georg Brandes in 1878, he called Vis-Knut ‘a magnetic phenomenon on a grand scale’. Bjørnson discussed the paranormal phenomena that could arise under hypnosis and magnetism in his novel Det flager i byen og paa havnen (Flags are Flying over Town and Port, 1884). In one passage, a medical doctor from America holds a lecture for the women of the city on ‘certain nervous phenomena’, telling them that hysterical women and women with weak nerves in a hypnotic, somnambulistic or magnetic state could experience telepathic contact with others over long distances, as well as clairvoyance and pre­cognition. In an article published in 1896, Bjørnson supported mesmerism and Reichenbach’s theory of the Odic force. Bjørnson was an enthusiastic supporter of Darwin, and had been involved in a lengthy debate in Nyt Tidsskrift (New Magazine) with Dr. Gerhard H. Armauer Hansen regarding the possibility of inheriting acquired characteristics, a theory defended by Bjørnson. In his last article, “Mod Armauer Hansen” (Against Armauer Hansen), this time in the magazine Kringsjaa (Panorama), Bjørnson mentioned the Odic force as an argument for his view that acquired characteristics could be inherited. Bjørnson referred to both Reichenbach and Kluge, but first and foremost he quoted and referred to the German philosopher Karl du Prel. Du Prel belonged to a German Romantic tradition in which animal magnetism was linked to Romantic Naturphilosophie and in which the somnambulistic state was thought to uncover a hidden self with supernatural abilities. Bjørnson cited Karl du Prel as a scientific authority who could support the view that the Odic force transferred emotions and thoughts from mother to child via the blood. Armauer Hansen, however, rejected Bjørnson’s arguments. Hansen had written a couple of articles on hypnosis in the journal Naturen (Nature) in 1887,

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where he summarised French research in this field, and rejected the possibility that higher, “supernatural” abilities could be produced by means of hypnosis. Armauer Hansen withdrew from the debate with Bjørnson, stating that he did not want to discuss with an “occultist” who believed in hidden powers.

Stage Mesmerists and Miracle Doctors

There were many stage mesmerists and miracle doctors who fuelled a renewed interest in mesmerism among a wider Norwegian public, and who were the object of a public debate in the last half of the 1880s. One of these was the Danish healing medium Carl Sixtus (b. 1860), who visited Kristiania in February 1886 and held a “séance in animal magnetism and somnambulism” in the Hals Brothers’ concert hall. Sixtus had discovered his magnetic abilities in America as a young man, where he had played a leading part in a romantic comedy and by chance had magnetised his female opponent. Sixtus made use of the public for his stage show in Kristiania, and this led several Norwegian doctors to write warnings against animal magnetism in the newspapers. One of them was Ernst Ferdinand Lochmann (1820–1891), professor of medicine, who held that magnetism as an entertainment ought to be prohibited. He pointed out that since science had recognised hypnotism as an ‘expression of natural powers, or an influencing of the nerves of an unknown, puzzling, and almost demonic nature’, one ought to entrust magnetic experiments exclusively to scientific research. He argued that experiments by stage mesmerists, most of them involving women, could leave lasting disturbances in the nervous system. Sixtus’ shows were stopped, and the Danish healing medium himself wrote a defence of his activities. Christopher Blom Leegaard (1851–1921), likewise a professor of medicine and head of the department for nervous illnesses at the Rikshospital, wrote several newspaper articles about animal magnetism and hypnotism, in which he supported a prohibition of such shows. He was an adherent of the neurologist Jean-Martin Charcot and his pupils at the women’s asylum La Salpêtrière in Paris, who regarded hypnosis as a pathological phenomenon that could be elicited only in hysterical individuals with weak nerves. In the following year, 1887, the Swedish preacher and miracle doctor Fredrik August Boltzius (1836–1910) generated a new debate about animal magnetism in the Norwegian public arena. Boltzius was a farmer who made a career as a lay preacher and healer in the 1870s, and became celebrated throughout Scandi­navia for his miraculous healings through the laying-on of hands and anointing with oil. People came from far and near to his home in Grava in Värmland to be healed; many of these were Norwegians. Norwegian pastors

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took a particular interest in the Swedish healer, and the religious significance of his “miraculous healings”. This led to articles and debates in the Norwegian press. At the request of Michael Johan Færden, pastor and editor of the Luthersk Ugeskrift (Lutheran Weekly), E.F. Lochmann wrote an article in this magazine in 1887, in which he interpreted Boltzius’ healings from a medical perspective. Whereas doctors like Gerhard Armauer Hansen and Christopher Leegaard regarded hypnosis as a physiological-pathological phenomenon, Lochmann revealed himself here to be a representative of a Romantic medicine that presupposed a close link between the soul and the body. He held that Boltzius’ healings were of two different kinds. One of these could be explained by the influence of the patient’s own imagination and nervous system on the bodily organs; he attributed the other kind of healings to a magnetic ability in Boltzius. Lochmann held that some individuals possessed an ability of this kind; for want of a better term, one could call it a “mental power” or “animal magnetism”. Through the laying-on of hands and performing magnetic passes, they could influence other persons and bring about changes in their nervous systems, thereby assuaging and healing painful illnesses. According to the doctor, it was completely unknown what such an ability consisted of, except that ‘it seems to be half of a mental and half of a bodily kind’. In the spirit of Mesmer, Lochmann linked the power to an infinite and eternal energy that permeated all that existed. When the Polish-Norwegian photographer and spiritualist Ludwik Szacinski (1844–1894) conducted hypnotic experiments in the presence of a group of doctors at the Rikshospital on 23 December 1887, Lochmann once again took to the barricades. In a couple of newspaper articles published in January 1888, he warned against “the dangers of hypnotism”. He wrote that those who let themselves be hypnotised were not completely normal, and that hypnotic experiments meant that the nervous system became even more “abnormal” – and this could have very grave consequences, in the form of nervous and mental illnesses. He pointed out that public presentations of this kind were prohibited in Denmark, and he urged the chief of police to issue a similar prohibition in Norway. A further argument against animal magnetism was that it was closely related to spiritualism, which Lochmann also regarded as a disturbance of the mental life. In the case of spiritualism, he referred to the pro­­hibition in the Bible. One of the Danish stage performers who visited the Norwegian capital was Faustinus Edelberg Pedersen (1868–1846), hypnotist, thought-reader, and antispiritualist, known in Denmark by the name of “Faustinus”. His great inspiration was Denmark’s most famous mesmerist, Carl Hansen, and he was also interested in medicine and psychology. Faustinus had collaborated with the Danish psychology professor Alfred Lehmann in connection with the publication of

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the latter’s book Overtro og Trolddom (Superstition and Magic, 1893–96). In Kristiania he held public séances in thought-reading and hypnosis in March 1900. These consisted of lectures accompanied by hypnotic experiments in which he used his wife as a guinea pig. Faustinus was a darling of the Norwegian public, and he continued to visit Kristiania regularly until the 1920s. The doctors’ call for a prohibition was not in vain. The penal law of 1902 forbade others than doctors and psychologists from making use of hypnotism (§364). When Faustinus returned to Kristiania in the spring of 1908 and held a hypnotic séance for the public, he was given a special permission to carry out his experiments. This was because Faustinus was popular even among doctors, who held that his hypnotic experiments belonged within scientific parameters. Faustinus conducted experiments on ladies in the public, who obeyed his commands to behave as if they were very drunk, to talk in an Indian language, or to speak in tongues. Several doctors were present during the show, and after some time they put an end to the part involving hypnosis.

Mesmerism and Spiritualism

The establishment of spiritualist milieus in Kristiania in the second half of the nineteenth century contributed to a renewed interest in animal magnetism (see the chapter on Spiritualism in Norway). The spiritualist Hendrik Storjo­ hann opened a private library for spiritualist literature in Kristiania in 1884, where he also offered books about Theosophy and animal magnetism. The key words in the subtitle of the spiritualist journal Morgendæmringen (Dawn) included “animal magnetism (hypnotism)”. The editor of the journal, Bernt C.S. Torstenson, was a supporter of Mesmer’s methods and felt that the use of “life magnetism” was the medical method of the future. As an anti-vivisectionist, it was also important for him to stress the fact that magnetism was based on natural methods and did not require painful experiments on animals. The journal carried lengthy articles on the history of animal magnetism, kept its readers up to date on the latest developments in countries such as France and Germany, and reported on international congresses on magnetism. Torstenson took part in the discussion of Szacinski’s demonstrations in a couple of newspaper articles in January 1888, in which he defended animal magnetism and revealed that he himself had applied magnetism and “brought about relief”. He held that the magnetic power could not be “purely mental”. It must come from the heart: ‘The magnetic fluid, if it is to be healing, must be animated and nourished by that which flows out of a pure heart’. Torstenson translated a book by the German spiritualist Hans Arnold, Skolemedisin og

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underkure (School Medicine and Miraculous Cures, 1893), with the subtitle: “A Critical Study of the Prejudices Against the Healing Power of Hypnotism, Magnetism, and ‘Miraculous Cures’”. In this book, Arnold’s primary addressee was the medical profession. He maintained the layman’s right to practise hypnotism, magnetism, and “sympathetic cures”. A Danish healing medium, J.P. Jensen, arrived in Kristiania in late 1889 in order to practise mesmeric healing. Morgendæmringen advertised his cures, and mentioned that he had cured paralysis, nervous ailments, and rheumatism. Jensen published his book Naturlægemethoden, eller magnetismen som helbredelsesmiddel (The Natural Healing Method, or Magnetism as a Cure, 1890), in Kristiania. In this book, he presented an overview of animal magnetism, the diseases that the method purportedly could heal, together with reports of successful cures that he had carried out, some of them in Norway. Jensen was inspired by the Danish mesmerist Sophus von Huth, who in 1889 had published the book Menneskets livskraft som helbredelsesmiddel, støttet paa Karl von Reichenbachs undersøgelse af odkraften (Man’s Life Force as Healing Agent, on the basis of Karl von Reichenbach’s Investigation of the Odic Force), and learned how to practise animal magnetism from the mesmerist Carl Hansen. J.P. Jensen stayed in Kristiania for a period, and in May 1890 the journal carried further reports of successful treatments of rheumatism and anemia in the Norwegian capital. After this, he continued at regular intervals in the course of more than fifteen years, and from various addresses, to offer the citizens of Kristiania his services as a “magnetopath”. In the first years, his advertisements in the newspapers claimed that he could cure all kinds of illnesses, but gradually he narrowed this down, and finally offered “special treatment of sciatica” (1905). Morgendæmringen also opened its columns to a Norwegian representative of the natural healing method, the photographer and theosophist Ole Olvik (1858–1924). After staying at Sebastian Kneipp’s clinic in Bavaria in 1896, Olvik began to practise in Haugesund in accordance with the natural healing method. He promoted a natural diet and Kneipp’s water cures, and fought against vaccination and vivisection. Olvik also employed magnetisation to relieve pain. This part of his activity as a healer, however, left no great mark on his books and articles. Olvik wrote several articles in Morgendæmringen, and the periodical advertised his book Naturens Mediciner (Nature’s Medicines, 1905). Olvik founded his own periodical, Naturlægen. Maanedskrift for et naturligt levevis og for fysikalsk och diætetisk terapi (naturlægemetoden) (The Natural Doctor, 1908–1939, with the subtitle “Monthly Periodical for a Natural Way of Life and for Physical and Dietary Therapy [the Natural Healing Method]”), which was later extended to include the words imot rusdrik og dyrplageri, i.e., “against

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intoxicating drinks and the ill-treatment of animals”. He was its editor and most prominent author until his death in 1924.

Mesmerist Technologies

At the turn of the twentieth century, and at least until 1913, there was a “magnetic-hygienic institute” in Kristiania. The institute sold “sun-ether radiation apparatuses” which were claimed to cure all kinds of illnesses, from a nervous disposition and insomnia to rheumatic pains. The radiation apparatuses were the invention of the German chemical engineer Oskar Korschelt (1853–1940). He was inspired by Reichenbach’s theory of the Odic force, and wished to combine this theory with contemporary physics. Korschelt suggested that the sun was the source of a primal power which in turn was the basis of all forces that were effective on Earth, and that this power was transported through the ether in the form of small particles. Sun-ether radiation apparatuses, according to Korschelt, constituted the first example of a direct use of the living force ­emanating from the sun-ether. Like Reichenbach, Korschelt claimed that partic­ularly sensitive individuals were able to see this radiation. Korschelt himself demonstrated and sold his products at fairs, and was awarded the gold medal at the hygiene exposition in Halle in 1891. The ­magnetic-hygienic institute in Kristiania sold a variety of models, from rackmounted apparatuses to stools. Customers could also purchase flower pots that were supposed to enhance plant growth by means of the same principles. The institute advertised its range of products in Morgendæmringen. It also published a booklet called Sol-æther-straaleapparater (Sun-Ether Radiation Apparatuses, 1904) with the subtitle “Apparatuses That Radiate Magnetic Healing Force”, with information based on Korschelt’s own description of his remedies and of their operative principles. Korschelt explained that the effect of these apparatuses was identical to that of living magnetism, and that they provided a physical explanation of the mysterious power. At the turn of the twentieth century there was another company in Kristiania, the Bureau Sanitas, which sold Korschelt’s inventions. Bureau Sanitas was owned by the Swede Andreas Fridman (1856–1921), who had studied to be a dentist in America, but who moved to Norway in the 1890s and opened a clinic there. The Bureau Sanitas sold a range of apparatuses supposedly operating with the healing properties of electricity and magnetism, from electrical brushes that could stop hair loss to electric and magnetic belts against a wide variety of chronic and nervous ailments. In the brochure Electri­citet og magnetisme som helbredelsesmiddel (Electricity and Magnetism as Healing Agents,

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1903) he advertised his products, and described how the effects of electricity and magnetism could stimulate and redress the balance and strength of the body. Fridman described magnetism as a physical force related to electricity. However, Fridman had also studied theology, and was of the opinion that God’s creative and healing power permeated the ether, and that this was the ultimate cause of health. One of the remedies that Fridman offered for sale was the “Magnetopath”, a belt that according to the brochure had a direct influence on the nerves and could redress the “magnetic harmony” of the body. Similar effects were to be had from his magnetic bracelets, necklaces, leg bands, and chest plates. Fridman’s greatest commercial success, however, was the “Electropath”, also known as the “Stanley belt”. The belt sent varying amounts of electricity through the body, and was said to cure most illnesses. By the time Fridman published the third edition of his brochure, he had abandoned the magnetic principle entirely, and the title was now simply Electricitet som tapt helbreds gjenopretter (Electricity, the Restorer of Lost Health, 1909). Fridmann’s “Electropath” had a competitor around the turn of the century in “Freding’s Induction Belts”. These belts were obviously inspired by Michael Faraday’s discovery of electromagnetic induction in 1831. They were intended to bring new strength to the nerves and to the body, including the sexual organs, through the supply of a steady current. Surprisingly enough, behind the name S.E. Freding was a woman, Sophie Elisabeth Freding (b. 1862), originally a woodcarver from Karlstad, who was married to the Swede Israel Ljungberg, the owner of a machine factory in Kristiania. Her first belt came onto the market in 1897, and she patented the belts and launched them in continually improved versions. “Freding’s Bureau” widely advertised the belts, and “vital magnetism”, in the newspapers until 1915. In the period around the First World War, “Freding’s Bureau” switched to selling electric motors. Korschelt, Fridman, and Freding can be seen as historical precursors of the ideas of the Austrian medical doctor and psychoanalyst Wilhelm Reich (1897– 1957), who lived in Norway from 1934 to 1939. Reich developed “orgone therapy”, a method that built on the assumption that the atmosphere contained orgone, a form of universal energy that could be used therapeutically in the tradition of Mesmer. Reich constructed the orgone box, in which patients were made to sit in order to restore the lost energy balance of the body. Thanks to Reich’s work in Norway, a vigorous Reichian psychoanalytic movement arose there. In particular, the Reichian therapists Nic Waal (1905–1960) and Ola Raknes (1887– 1975) became well-known figures both in Norway and abroad.

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Healing Mediums in the Interwar Years

After the First World War, there was a peak season for all kinds of alternative medicine in Norway, including mesmerism. One active mesmerist in this period was the Swedish craftsman Einar Eriksson (b. 1894), who became a Norwegian citizen and opened his own institute in Oslo (earlier called Kris­ tiania). Eriksson practised the laying-on of hands, magnetic passes, and massages. He also offered magnetised cloths and garments, as well as magnetised tablets that were to be dissolved in water for a massage – all these things were for use at home by patients who did not have the opportunity to come to Oslo. He employed several masseurs at his institute; like Eriksson himself, they were supposed to possess a certain ability to heal. He held joint sessions for poorer patients, where he treated several patients simultaneously. Against the background of nearly twenty years’ activity as a healer, Eriksson wrote the book Helbredende hender (Healing Hands, 1931), which appeared in a new and expanded edition as Hendenes utstråling helbreder I–II (The Radiation of the Hands Heals, 1934). Some years later, a small additional text appeared: Hendenes utstråling helbreder III (1937/38). In these books, he wrote about his system of treatment and presented various examples of cures, signed by the patients. Eriksson mainly treated illnesses of the blood, the nerves, and the skin. His specialty was eczema, but he also presented examples of patients who had been healed of paralysis, cancer, and blindness. The books were richly illustrated with photographs that showed the patients’ condition before the treatment and after its conclusion. Vitamins were a new discovery that began to reach a wider public during the interwar years. In the first edition of his book, Eriksson drew parallels between healing magnetism and vitamins. He believed that vitamins came from the sun, and that one could receive vitamins through the air, through eating vitamin-rich food, and through being in the proximity of vitamin-rich persons. Sicknesses came about through a lack of vitamins, and the cure was the result of a “healing magnetic vitamin power”. In the two last books, he played down the role of vitamins, and maintained that magnetism was a matter of radiation and rays, which he called antropoflux – something that could be demonstrated scientifically. Eriksson did not want to be associated with the natural healing method; he saw his own activity as a continuation of Boltzius’ healings and of the healings in the Bible. Another healing medium in this period was the farmer Steinar Steinarsson, né Ormerud (1880–1964), from the Ormerud farm in Hallingdal; he was also well known as a hunter of bears. He discovered his healing abilities in the mid1920s during the illness of his son. He gave up farming and began an itinerant life as a healing medium. Gradually, he began his own practice in Oslo, where

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he employed not only the classic magnetic passes, but also electric heat-lamps against eczema. Steinarsson called himself a “natural doctor”, and like Eriksson, he explained his own activity in religious terms, as a result of the power of God. Another practitioner of mesmerism in the years around the First World War and in subsequent years was the schoolmaster and phrenologist Hans Andreas Tandberg (b. 1880). After breaking off his medical studies and American courses in psychology, Tandberg practised from 1913 onwards in Kristiania, Bergen, and several other Norwegian towns as a phrenologist, “nerve trainer”, and “magnetopath”. Tandberg was Norway’s first and most prominent phrenologist, and his short illustrated popular book Moderne frenologi (Modern Phrenology, 1914) went through two editions. Here, he stated that phrenology meant “knowledge of the soul”, and that it was an experiential science built on knowledge of the structure and the workings of the brain. A trained phrenologist could decipher the personality by measuring and feeling the contours of the skull, and Tandberg’s practice offered an “evaluation of the character and gifts” as well as guidance with regard to the choice of one’s position in life and one’s education. Tandberg also worked as a specialist in nervousness and nervous illnesses, and he gave courses and lectures on this subject. He published a pamphlet entitled Nervøsitet og nervetræning (Nervousness and Nerve Training, 1916), in which he described various remedies against nervousness. In addition to a healthy diet and natural instruments of healing such as warm baths, fresh air, and music, these remedies also consisted of a light, soothing massage inspired by Mesmer. Tandberg held that some people had an excess of animal magnetism, or “personal magnetism”, which they transferred to their patients. He offered two forms of massage: soothing massages, magnetisation and suggestion against headaches, nervousness, sleeplessness, nervous and rheumatic illnesses etc., and also a “hardening cure with massage” against colds, sniffles, and hoarseness. Tandberg travelled throughout the whole country, holding lectures on topics such as “Personal magnetism and thought transfer”. Healing mediums and those who offered all kinds of alternative treatments were subject to a critical searchlight in the Norwegian public arena in the 1930s. The so-called Quackery Act of 1936 restricted treating of illnesses exclusively to doctors and medical personnel. One of those who were active in the fight against the “quacks’” activities was Dr. Arne Høygaard (1906–1981), who held lectures and wrote articles attacking healing mediums such as Eriksson and Steinarsson.

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Hypnosis

It seems that hypnosis, a practise which had its origin in the mesmerist milieu, was much less commonly practised in Norway than in many other countries. In 1907, Norsk metapsykisk selskab (The Norwegian Metapsychical Society), a Norwegian sister organisation of the British Society for Psychical Research, was founded in Kristiania. Its chairman was Dr. Anton Enger (1866–1922), who had studied hypnosis in Berlin and Stockholm, inter alia under the Swedish hypnotherapist Otto G. Wetterstrand. Enger wished to use hypnosis therapeutically in order to treat alcoholism, but he was also a spiritualist and saw hypnotic trance from a spiritualist perspective. Finally, Norway’s first professor of psychology, Harald K. Schjelderup (1895–1974), was interested in and did research on hypnosis and paranormal phenomena. His interest in these fields resulted in the book Det skjulte menneske (Hidden Man, 1961), which became widely known among a general readership in Scandinavia. Schjelderup was the chairman of the Norwegian parapsychological association from 1965 to 1971.

References

Arnold, Hans, Skolemedicin og underkure: alle venner af oplysning og fremskridt, isærdeleshed all læger tilegnet. En kritisk studie over fordomme ligeoverfor hypnotismens, magnetismenss og “underkurenes” lægekraft, transl/publ. by Bernt Torstenson, Kristiania: E. Walle & Co.s bogtrykkeri, 1893. Bjelfvenstam, Erik, “Hypnotism in Scandinavia 1800–1900”, in: Eric J. Dingwall (ed.), Abnormal Hypnotic Phenomena: A Survey of Nineteenth-Century Cases, London: J. & A. Churchill ltd, 1967, vol. 2, 203–246. Bjørnson, Bjørnstjerne, Vis-Knut; tillegg: Viseknudt, en kort levnedsbeskrivelse av Paul Nygaard, Gausdal: Gausdal historielag, 2010. ——— . Det flager i byen og paa havnen, Samlede værker, vol. 6, Oslo: Gyldendal, 1932, 281–282. ——— . “Mod Armauer Hansen”, Kringsjaa 4 (1896), 202–208. Boeck, Christian, “Vitalmagnetismen. Somnambulisme, Animalsk: Dyrisk Magnetisme – Mesmerisme – Tellurisme – Siderisme”, Hermoder. Et ugeblad af blandet Indhold, Christiania: Trykt hos J. Lehmann, 4 (1823), 36–40, 57–60, 81–85, 99–104, 105–110, 113–118, 121–126, 137–141, 161–166, 169–176, 177–179, 221–224, 267–269. “Danske hypnotisører”, Illustreret Tidende, 28, (1886), nr.7, 81–82. Døderlein, Jens Grønbech “Udtog af en Dagbog over en magnetisk Kur, foretagen i Christiania fra den 29de December 1817 til den 12te Maii 1818”, Magazin for Naturvidenskaberne 3 (1925), 102–114.

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Eriksson, Einar, Helbredende hender: mitt system, Oslo: City-trykkeriet, 1931. ——— . Hendenes utstråling helbreder: mitt system, Oslo: City-trykkeriet, 1934. ——— . Hendenes utstråling helbreder: meddelelse og tillegg til 1. og 2. del av min bok, Oslo: Marius Stamnes boktrykkeri, 1937/38. Faye, Frans Christian, “Nogle bemærkninger om Hiernens sensitive og imaginative Evne i Relation til den saakaldte dyriske Magnetisme, Ecstase, Klarsyn, Hypnotisme”, Forhandlinger ved de skandinaviske naturforskeres ottende møte i Kiøbenhavn 1860, Kiøbenhavn: Thieles bogtrykkeri, 1861, 49–62. “Forhandlinger i det medicinske Selskab i Christiania 1851”, Norsk magazin for Læge­ videnskaben 5 (1851), 837. Fridman, Andreas, Electricitet og magnetisme som helbredelsesmiddel, Kristiania: Natio­ nal­trykkeriet, 1903. ——— . Electricitet som tapt helbreds gjenopretter, Kristiania: S. og Jul Sørensen A/S, 1909. Hansen, Gerhard Henrik Armauer “Hypnotismen”, Naturen 11 (1887), 225–240 & 257– 270. Holst, Frederik, “Udtog af en norsk Reisendes Breve til hjemmet under hans Ophold i Udlandet”, Budstikken 2 (1820), 73–80. Hörman, Ernst, Svenskarna i Kristiania. En historisk öfversikt i sammandrag, Kristiania: Cammermeyer, 1904. Huth, Sophus von, Menneskets livskraft som helbredelsesmiddel, støttet paa Karl von Reichen­bachs undersøgelse af odkraften, Kjøbenhavn: J. Jørgensen & Co, 1889. Jensen, J.P., Naturlægemethoden, eller magnetismen som helbredelsesmiddel, Christiania: Udgivers eget forlag, 1890. Johannessen, Axel, “Magnetiske kure i Kristiania 1817–1821”, Christiania VidenskabsSelskabs Forhandlinger 1886, Kristiania: A.W. Brøggers Bogtrykkeri, 1886. Korschelt, Oscar, Sol-æther-straaleapparater, Kristiania: det magnetisk-hygieniske institutt, 1904. Larsen, Øivind, Norges Leger, Oslo: Den Norske lægeforening, 1986. Liljemark, David, Boltzius, Stockholm: Ordfront/Galago, 2009. Lochmann, Ernst Ferdinand “Boltzius”, Luthersk Ugeskrift, J.C. Heuch og M.J. Færden (eds.), Kristiania: Th. Steen (1887), 206–208. Mehren, Tonje Maria, “Den okkulte Bjørnson”, Nytt Norsk Tidsskrift 23 (2006), 30–45. Morgendæmringen: Tidsskrift for spiritistiske studier, B.C.S. Torstenson (ed.), Kristiania/ Skien, 1886–1915, 1919–1925. Naturlægen: Maanedskrift for et naturligt levevis og for fysikalsk og diætetisk terapi (naturlægemetoden), Ole Olvik (ed.), Haugesund: Nils Sunds Forlag, 1908–1939. Natvig, Richard, “Teosofen og naturlegen Ole Olvik (1858–1924)”, in: Ingvild Sælid Gilhus & Lisbeth Mikaelsson (eds.), Skjult visdom – universelt brorskap. Teosofi i Norge, Oslo: Emilia AS, 1998, 125–155.

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Olvik, Ole, Naturens Mediciner mod Blodforgiftning, Bylder, Saar m.m., Haugesund: Ole Olvik, 1905. Paasche, Fredrik Norges litteratur fra 1814 til 1850-aarene, in: Francis Bull et al. (eds.), Norsk litteraturhistorie, Oslo: Aschehoug, 1924–1937, vol. 2, 1932. Pavels, Claus, Claus Pavel’s Dagbøger for aarene 1817–1822/1817–1822, publ. by Dr. Ludvig Daae Christiania: Grøndahl & Søns Bogtrykkeri, vol.1–2, 1899, 1904, 397–399, 216–217. Pedersen, Faustinus Edelberg, “Artikler af og om Faustinus”, unpublished autobiography, Archive, Danish Society for Psychical Research. Schmidt, Frederik Maj-Krandsen: et utvalg av Jean Paul Friderik Richters Værker, Christiania: Trykt og forlagt af Jacob Lehmann, 1920. ——— . Moderne frenologi: populært fremstillet, 2. ed., Porsgrunn: n.p., 1915. Tandberg, H.A. Dr., Nervøsitet og nervetræning, Kristiania: Helge Erichsen og co.s boktrykkeri, 1916. Wallem, Fredrik B.: Det norske Studentersamfund gjennem hundrede aar, Kristiania: H.Aschehoug & co, vol. 1, 1916, p.58.

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Chapter 35 Mesmerism in Sweden

Mesmerism in Sweden Olav Hammer Mesmerism was introduced to Sweden in the 1780s, only a few years after Franz Anton Mesmer (1735–1815) in the 1770s publicised the results of his first forays into animal magnetism. Mesmerism became an important cultural factor as successive waves of interest swept the country from the late eighteenth century until the middle of the nineteenth century. Animal magnetism was practised by doctors, embraced by societies of people with esoteric interests, combined with Swedenborgian and masonic ideas, used for entertainment purposes, became a familiar reference in fictional literature, and in various other ways entered Swedish society in quite diverse guises. In forms such as hypnotism, and the investigation by parapsychologists of some of the many unusual phenomena reported from Mesmerist séances, one could even say that mesmerism has survived into the present day. Much of the historical trajectory from Mesmer’s own time up to the mid-nine­teenth century has been traced in a magisterial Swedish-language mono­graph (Johannisson 1974). The author of that work subsequently pursued other interests, and no younger scholars seem to have continued investigating the dissemination and practice of mesmerism in eighteenth- and nineteenthcentury Sweden. For the history of “classical” mesmerism, the present chapter thus builds on the one towering survey of the field. For the more recent pursuit and investigation of mesmerist phenomena in Sweden under names such as hypnotism and parapsychology, other literature is available, much of which, however, is either partisan or debunking. At the time of writing, a thorough, scholarly survey based on archival sources as well as printed materials still remains to be written.

The First Contacts with Mesmerism

In 1781 Mesmer published a summary of his findings entitled Précis historique des faits relatifs au magnetisme animal. This text was widely distributed, some copies reached Sweden, and articles and a review were published in the Swedish media already in the following year (Johannisson 1974: 31). Two members of Kirurgiska societeten (Surgical Society), botanist Adam Afzelius and

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his brother Pehr, professor of medicine, decided to investigate the literature on this new therapeutic procedure, but remained undecided about the value of the method. A more concerted effort to introduce the practice of animal magnetism was inaugurated with the arrival in 1785 of a French magnetic healer by the name of Marais (Johannisson 1974: 33), who performed several cures before an audience. Once again, the learned Swedes in the audience remained mildly sceptical. Mesmerism definitively entered Swedish society through the efforts of a military officer, Carl Göran Silfverhjelm (1759–1808), who witnessed mesmerist séances during a prolonged voyage to France in 1785–1786 (Johannisson 1974: 34–49). After his return to Stockholm in 1786, Silfverhjelm enthusiastically promoted animal magnetism as a therapeutic method, and in November of that year inaugurated the first mesmerist organisation in Sweden, Harmoniska societeten (Harmonic Society). In France, mesmerists were divided in their interests, some focusing on the medical aspects, other fascinated by the somnambulist phenomena that appeared when the most suggestible patients were treated. Harmoniska societeten followed Mesmer’s lead closely, aiming at curing people with otherwise intractable conditions.

Mesmerism Meets Swedenborgianism

A decisive change in the Swedish reception of animal magnetism occurred in 1786–1787 (Johannisson 1974: 50–71). Interest in the purportedly paranormal phenomena produced in sensitive patients gradually increased, as individual mesmerists operating outside Harmoniska societeten took up the new methods. The strange abilities demonstrated by these patients were often explained in Swedenborgian terms. Swedenborg’s theories concerning contacts with the spirit world, it was felt, were confirmed in the magnetic séances. A Swedenborgian society, Exegetiska och Philantropiska sällskapet (Exegetical and Philanthropic Society), founded in 1786 and led by Carl Bernhard Wadström (1746–1799) and Carl Fredrik Nordenskjöld (1756–1828), became one of two main conduits for this syncretistic teaching after mesmerist practices had been introduced in 1787. Even the medical linchpin of Mesmer’s own theory, i.e., that illness is caused by an obstruction in the flow of animal magnetism, was replaced by a Swedenborgian understanding of illness as a spiritual disorder. According to this understanding, animal magnetism influenced the spirit world, and the spirit world was the immediate cause of disease and health. The other conduit for spiritualised mesmerism was Swedish Freemasonry. Members of the highest degrees experimented with a variety of magical and

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occult rituals, and mesmerism was incorporated into this eclectic set of practices, as a way to open up a channel of communication to the spirit world. Whereas the Masons kept their rituals secret, Exegetiska och Philantropiska sällskapet went to considerable lengths to publicise its new views, abroad as well as in Sweden. The cultural climate of the late eighteenth century was still dominated by Enlightenment values, and the result was a public relations disaster for the society. A commonly voiced sentiment was that the mesmerist method needed to be subjected to rigorous experimental studies, and that combining a controversial method with a speculative theory of spirits was the wrong way to proceed. The most devastating response came from a Swedish representative of the Enlightenment. In October 1787, one of the country’s most famous authors, Johan Henric Kellgren (1751–1795), published a satirical poem lampooning Swedenborgians, mesmerists, and other purportedly irrational fringe groups, entitled Man äger ej snille för det man är galen – roughly, Being Crazy Doesn’t Make You a Genius (Johannisson 1974: 92- 98). Even worse: Kellgren and others also alerted the authorities to the fact that the religious views expressed by the Swedenborgians were illegal, since Lutheran orthodoxy was at the time enforced by law. The writings of Exegetiska och Philantropiska sällskapet broke the censorship laws and were therefore banned. Swedish magnetic healers could do little to avert the massive public ridicule and the harsh legal measures generated by such attacks, and the polemics went on until they fizzled out around 1790, simply because there by then were barely any active mesmerists left to satirise.

Mesmerism in the Romantic Period

Two Swedish mesmerists provided a tenuous link from the disastrous events of the late 1780s to the more receptive Romantic period (Johannisson 1974: 133– 153). Firstly, in the years around 1800, Adolf Gustaf Nordenskjöld (1745–1821) experimented with magnetic sleep, cured a range of illnesses, but also discovered that sensitive patients became clairvoyant under the influence of mesmeric passes. Nordenskjöld also developed theories to explain the two types of phenomena, which he saw as quite distinct. Magnetic healing he attributed to natural causes, whereas the clairvoyant phenomena were seen in swedenborgian terms. The second of these links was provided by Mårten Sturzenbecher (1760–1836). Sturzenbecher, who was known for his heterodox theological views and for a distinct variety of Naturphilosophie based on the theory of correspondences, experimented with animal magnetism during two prolonged periods of his life, i.e., in the heydays of classical Mesmerism around

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1790, and after the near-demise in Sweden of the practice, beginning in 1814. The results were published in his magnum opus, entitled Några delar av naturkunnigheten, I–VI (Some Parts of the Knowledge of Nature, 1815–1829). His explanation of the effect of animal magnetism attempted to harmonise the idea that healing had a divine origin, with the notion that the force involved in mesmerism could be integrated into a system of natural philosophy. Sturzenbecher’s work in part foreshadows and in part coincides with the introduction of German Romantic Naturphilosophie in Sweden in the 1810s. His theory of animal magnetism met with harsh criticism for being patently irrational, but the new ideas that entered the country would soon provide a more fertile ground for other writers interested in mesmerism. In particular, several medical doctors began experimenting with the method in the 1810s and early 1820s. The most active supporter of animal magnetism was Pehr Gustaf Cederschjöld (1782–1848), who performed several series of mesmerist experiments in the years 1814 to 1821, and who published his findings in seven issues of his publication Journal för animal magnetism (Johannisson 1974: 163–204). In his writings, animal magnetism comes across as an empirical reality that can be demonstrated and used instrumentally for healing patients. As in so much of the international mesmerist literature, Cederschjöld also notes cases of clairvoyance and telepathy among his most susceptible patients. His theories as to the underlying nature of mesmerism shifted over the years. On the one hand, Cederschjöld launched a polemical attack against Enlightenment rationalism, and suggested that nature operated with hidden powers beyond what mere reason could fathom. On the other, his own attitude to the phenomena of animal magnetism was that of the critical experimental scientist, who could attempt to link the phenomena he witnessed to various medical theories current at the time. These even included the idea that suggestion was the cause of the cures. Cederschjöld saw his work as that of a pioneer successfully promoting a new therapeutic method that could be of general use. In reality, few people followed in his footsteps, and in the medical circles where Cederschjöld moved, most were unimpressed by this aspect of his work. He tried to set up a committee to scientifically investigate animal magnetism, but these efforts came to nothing, since the members who were appointed never convened. The coup de grace for his forays into animal magnetism was a highly publicised case that took place in 1821. A 26 year-old woman identified as E. showed all the external signs of being in an advanced state of pregnancy, but no signs of a fetus could be detected. Cederschjöld examined her, and as part of the diagnosis magnetised her. E. fell into a deep state of somnambulism, and in this state told Cederschjöld that she carried a dead fetus and recommended the root of

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a particular tree as a remedy. Cederschjöld had previously come across cases of magnetised patients who clairvoyantly prescribed treatments for their illnesses. He therefore proceeded to procure the root, and continued with several mesmerist sessions during which the symptoms of false pregnancy subsided under great drama, with E. apparently expelling tissue and bone from a dead fetus. The events were the talk of the day in Stockholm, and it appears that E. both enjoyed the attention and benefitted financially from her role. When it finally became abundantly apparent that E. had faked her somnambulism, and that the aborted fetus tissue was in fact composed of gory fragments of a dead bird, the newspapers mercilessly satirised Cederschjöld. Soon thereafter, Cederschjöld ceased carrying out any further mesmerist experiments. A handful of other mesmerists from Cederschjöld’s time are known, but they left few written traces (Johannisson 1974: 205–220). Thus, a doctor Carl Gustaf Schönbeck (1786–1866) appears to have conducted mesmerist séances before large audiences in the southern university town of Lund, but the sources that tell of these sessions are mainly brief mentions penned by visitors. When Cederschjöld gave up the practice, the history of “classical” mesmerism in Sweden effectively came to an end. The most widely publicised of the magnetisers operating after the 1820s treated the mesmeric method as a mere source of entertainment, rather than as a therapeutic method or a spiritual phenomenon. Danish magnetiser Carl Hansen (presented in more detail in the chapter on Mesmerism in Denmark in the present volume) visited Sweden on several occasions during the second half of the nineteenth century (Gauld 1992: 302– 306). His performances were reported on by the national press, but provoked little other comment from intellectual and medical circles than that the phenomena Hansen could display on stage were merely the effect of the willpower of the magnetiser dominating that of his subjects.

From Mesmerism to Hypnosis and Parapsychology

The completely naturalistic explanation of what went on in Carl Hansen’s séances foreshadows the main successor up to the present day of Mesmer’s creation: the interest in and instrumental use of hypnosis as a therapeutic tool. Internationally, this decisive shift is usually attributed to the Scottish surgeon James Braid (1795–1860; see Gauld 1992: 279–288). It took several decades before Braid’s work on hypnotism, as documented in his only book on the topic, Neurypnology (1843), reached Sweden. Only in 1887 was the first work in Swedish on the subject of hypnotism published: Fredrik Björnström’s Hypnotismen, dess utveckling och nuvarande ståndpunkt (Hypnotism: Its Development and

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Present State). At around the same time, Otto G. Wetterstrand (1845–1907), who had studied under the famous French psychologists Hippolyte Bernheim and Ambroise-Auguste Liébault, began to include hypnotism in his medical practice (Gauld 1992: 346–347, 473–474). Wetterstrand saw hypnotism as a cure for a vast variety of illnesses, including paralysis, asthma, alcoholism, heart disorder, vomiting, and menstrual problems. He barely provided any details about how his hypnotic cures were carried out, but an eyewitness account relates how he, like Mesmer, employed passes over the body of his clients. Despite these obvious similarities, hypnosis was freed from associations to such speculative topics as spirits, animal magnetism, and Romantic philosophy, and became one component in the arsenal of methods available to Swedish therapists as well as experimental psychologists. Hypnotism at first constituted a fairly marginal therapy, but interest increased in the post-World War II years. In 1965, a professional association for hypnotists, Svenska Föreningen för Klinisk och Experimentell Hypnos (Swedish Association for Clinical and Experimental Hypnosis) was formed, and was later renamed Svenska föreningen för klinisk hypnos (Swedish Asso­ ciation for Clinical Hypnosis). Membership is limited to licenced members of a medical or therapeutic profession, or students who have completed most of their studies in a field leading to such a profession. As this instrumental use and thorough professionalisation of the practice demonstrate, the links to mesmerism are merely historical. Closer to its historical predecessor is the interest evinced by parapsychologists in more exotic psychological phenomena that can occur under hypnosis. In a Swedish context, the best-known pioneer in what we might call paranormal hypnosis was John Björkhem (1910–1963). Björkhem practised as a medical doctor, but the focus of his real interests can be seen in the two PhD degrees that he had earned, one in theology, on a seventeenth century mystic, and one in psychology, on hypnotically induced hallucinations. He investigated the possibility of inducing paranormal abilities such as clairvoyance and psycho­ metry by means of hypnosis, a controversial suggestion that he answered with cautious affirmation in his book Det ockulta problemet (The Occult Problem, 1939). A sizeable portion of this book is devoted to the purported paranormal abilities of a medium active at the time, Helga Braconnier, who much later described her abilities in a book of her own, Mitt liv med det okända (My Life with the Unknown, 1972). A modern-day successor in such efforts is Etzel Cardeña (b. 1957), who directs a research institute dedicated to investigating parapsychology and hypnotism, the Center for Research on Consciousness and Anomalous Psychology at the Department of Psychology, Lund University. Cardeña is one of the

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editors of an important recent volume (Cardeña, Lynn & Krippner 2013) on “anomalous” experiences, a term that covers much of the ground that many Mesmerists were interested in: healing experiences, synesthesia, past life memories, and so forth. Cardeña’s and his colleagues’ approach, however, is science-based (although controversially so, see Halle et al 2012 for a harsh critique of the research centre in Lund), whereas their distant historical forebears were solidly anchored in the esoteric and Romantic world-views of their own time.

References

Björkhem, John, Det ockulta problemet, Uddevalla: Zindermans, 1939. Björnström, Fredrik, Hypnotismen, dess utveckling och nuvarande ståndpunkt, Stockholm: H. Geber, 1887. Braconnier, Helga, Mitt liv med det okända, Malmö: Allhem, 1972. Cardeña, Etzel, Steven Jay Lynn, and Stanley Krippner, Varieties of Anomalous Experience: Examining the Scientific Evidence, second ed., Washington, DC: American Psy­chologi­ cal Association, 2013. Cederschjöld, Pehr Gustaf, Journal för animal magnetism, Stockholm: Carl Delén, 1815–1821. Gauld, Alan, A History of Hypnotism, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. Halle, Bertil et al. “Pseudovetenskap sprids okritiskt”, Svenska Dagbladet, 31 October 2012. Johannisson, Karin, Magnetisörernas tid. Den animala magnetismen i Sverige, Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1974. Silfverhielm, Carl Göran, Inledning til kunskapen om den animale magnetismen, Stock­ holm: Kungl. tryckeriet, 1787. Sturtzenbecher, Mårten, Några delar av naturkunnigheten på ett alldeles nytt sätt betraktade, 6 parts, Stockholm (various publishers), 1815–1829.

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Chapter 36 New Age in Denmark

New Age in Denmark Mikael Rothstein Denmark is probably one of the most secular countries in the world, despite of the fact that 77,8% of the population remain members of the protestant Danish National Church (Folkekirken; literally The People’s Church). To a very large extent, membership of the Church is a national, rather than a religious, marker, and any assessment of the Danes’ religious lives needs to consider people’s ­private spheres, and not rely on their formal religious affiliations. In fact, New Age perspectives (however defined, e.g., in accordance with Hanegraaff’s seminal 1996 monograph New Age Religion and Western Culture) are very often part and parcel of the average Dane’s religiosity. Hence, being a member of the Church by no means excludes interest in New Age activities, and certainly does not prevent people from entertaining beliefs quite alien to Protestant doctrines. Most significant in this respect is perhaps the presence of belief in reincarnation among 16% of the population (2009 census by the newspaper Politiken), in a version of reincarnation that does not conform with any traditional Hindu or Buddhist conceptions, but is conceived of as a progression on a kind of “spiritual path”. Only a fraction of what is produced and consumed in terms of New Age religion in Denmark is specific to this particular country. Most elements, whether mythological, ritual, aesthetic or otherwise, could just as well be found in other parts or Europe, the United States or the rest of the world. Danish spokespersons for New Age are thus co-producers of a global, religious phenomenon (Rothstein 2001). Nevertheless, the intention in this chapter is to consider a few examples of how such a global New Age is expressed in a Danish context. In order to gain a foothold in Denmark, a global New Age has obviously needed local modes of production and delivery. The large-scale dissemination of the many New Age-related concepts, practices, products, and services in Denmark is in particular due to four channels of distribution: New Age bookshops; Body, Mind, Spirit fairs; individual high-profile New Age teachers with the capacity to reach out to large audiences and the centres from which they operate; and the widely available magazine Nyt Aspekt. This chapter will be organised to reflect this four-fold localisation. Other themes closely related to New Age as found in Denmark are dealt with elsewhere in this volume, and

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the reader is therefore also referred to chapters on contemporary astrology in Denmark, Martinus cosmology, Theosophy and Theosophically-inspired move­ments in Denmark, and Danish UFO movements. For more general information on the history of research into new religions and New Religious Movements in Denmark, much of which is relevant also to the New Age scene, see Rothstein 2015.

Bookstores and the Dissemination of the New Age

It is impossible to determine with any precision when New Age beliefs entered Danish society, and when they started to make an impact. The only feasible way of addressing this question may be to consider the bookshops in Copenhagen where literature related to esoteric, occult or otherwise “alternative” topics was sold in the decades leading up to the 1970s. Strubes Boghandel (Strube’s Bookstore) was established in 1951 by Poul Strube (1907–1991) in order to serve an audience interested in all things “mystical”, from Swedenborgian philosophy and animal magnetism, to early twentieth-century spiritualism, chiromancy, ley lines, dowsing, parapsychology, telepathy, telekinesis, secret societies, UFO s, and various versions of early neo-Hindu thought. Later, subjects such as astro-archaeology, crypto-zoology, the Bermuda Triangle, the enigmas of the pyramids, and Stonehenge mythology, among many other things, entered the bookshelves. As new book shops emerged that specialised in New Age themes, Strube’s bookstore entered the same market. The bookstore never expanded significantly, but Poul Strube and his wife Jonna Strube (1939–2002) also ran a small publishing house specialising in occult and esoteric literature in line with their previous work. Poul Strube was, for instance, during the period 1954–1982 the publisher of Psykisk Forum (Psychic Forum), a forerunner of later New Age magazines. Strube’s books, characteristically simple and old-school in design, were available primarily from their own shop, but second-hand copies were always to be found elsewhere. Some were translations of internationally acclaimed authors (Gurdjieff, Schuré, Brunton, Blavatsky, Leadbeater, Paramahansa Yogananda, Vivekananda, von Däniken, etc.), others were written by Danish authors, who usually never made it beyond a small Copen­hagen-based readership. Strube’s also offered books and other materials from the neighbouring Unitarian Church which, in its own way, served as a common ground for people with religious interests that could not be accommodated in the National Church, or in the host of so-called free churches, i.e., formally established Christian congregations outside the Protestant mainstream. Indeed, the Unitarian Church (in Denmark the least ecclesiastical, and

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least unambiguously Christian Church) may be seen as a precursor to the later New Age movement, not because similar religious beliefs were entertained, but due to their common interest in drawing on (in principle, if not in fact) all religious traditions. Presently (2014) Strube’s has transformed into an average New Age shop (with a presence also online), Bog og Mystik (Book and Mysticism). Apart from Strube’s importance as retailer and publisher, the shop served as a physical meeting place for people with similar interests, and thanks to flyers, business cards, and posters on display, occult merchants, healers, clairvoyants, and small religious groups outside the mainstream were able to reach their audiences. While no comprehensive or precise assessment of Strube’s importance can be made, it remains a fact that the shop, for two decades, was one of only two commercial venues in Denmark with such a profile. It is therefore likely that Poul and Jonna Strube’s personal interest in the occult and esoteric paved the way not only for their own lifelong careers, but also for the entry of the New Age in Denmark which, at first, was an urban phenomenon restricted to the capital, Copenhagen, where Strube’s was located. A parallel development lies behind the other major bookstore, Det Ukendtes Boghandel (Bookstore of the Unknown), where, during the 1970s, a number of occultists, UFO enthusiasts, spiritualists, and others joined forces and, among other things, founded the publishing house Sfinx. Subsequently, the shop embraced broader New Age interests and in particular focused on healing and health issues. Sfinx published some very popular Danish New Age titles, including books by crystal healer Jette Holm which were widely read as Sfinx became a leading force in the dissemination of New Age ideas during the 1990s. The bookshop has since the late 1980s been run by a married couple, Per and Rita Johansson (who after numerological advice changed their names to Robbin Peer and Ritazol), who have formulated a policy statement that fits well with their intention of making New Age ideas and practices mainstream: ‘1) To teach people that they can live a happy life, if they want it themselves, 2) to unite the alternative world, 3) to establish a spiritual shop in all major cities, 4) to make science and the spiritual world meet, and, apart from that, work to ensure that all hospitals will get libraries with lots of spiritual books and CD’s in order for sick people to get an opportunity to know alternative ways to become well’. This kind of implicit New Age activism has not only stimulated sales, but also encouraged the spread of New Age ideologies among a broader segment of the population. At the time of writing, bookshops with physical premises are increasingly under pressure from online book sellers, and in 2013 at Det Ukendtes Boghandel also closed its shop, and became an online business at .

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Bookshops, even online, however, are still of great importance, as are retailers of New Age-based health products, but the influence of centres where New Age professionals and clients meet, where courses are given and rituals conducted, should not be underestimated. From a historical perspective, it seems as if literature laid the foundation, and that the New Age subsequently is entertained in centres by a devoted minority. Examples include Astrologihuset (The House of Astrology), Kosmos Center, and the New Age Wisdom Center. Most of these cater to special-interest groups; a comprehensive list of these is available (in Danish) at

Body, Mind, Spirit Fairs

Since the early 1990s, Body, Mind, Spirit fairs have been arranged every year in several major Danish cities. Originally, these events were counter-cultural manifestations designed to attract a minority of interested people, but gradually, as New Age concepts became more widespread, these fairs gradually entered the mainstream. This entry into popular consciousness was presumably a major impetus for establishing a separate venue for people interested in the more occult aspects of New Age thinking: Mystikkens Univers (The Universe of Mysticism), which has been around yearly since the year 2000. Whereas Body, Mind, Spirit fairs predominantly host healers, clairvoyants, representatives of various health products, and a variety of therapists, the Mystikkens Univers experience features ritualistic magicians, wizards, exorcists, diviners and oracles of all kinds, contactees who claim to receive messages from extraterrestrials, apotropaic rituals and ritual remedies, and representatives from dogmatic traditions such as ISKCON (the Hare Krishna movement) and a few Christian sects; see . Together, these two types of venues are crucially important when it comes to promoting New Age, which makes the Danish case quite typical: New Age concepts and practices are largely the same that one finds in other countries, they are exchanged commercially, mainly in urban areas, in venues resembling those found elsewhere, and attract the same segments of the population as in other parts of the West. A few contrasts with adjacent countries can nevertheless be noted. Crystal healing and the associated trade with minerals thought to possess beneficial properties was during the 1990s and early years of the new millennium a more visible component of the New Age scene than in other Scandinavian countries. A few other innovations produced by Danish New Ages spokespersons, e.g., specific methods of healing created locally, will also be mentioned later in this chapter. On the other hand, because of the lack of

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high-profile local spokespersons for angel beliefs, Denmark never experienced anything comparable to the interest in angels that was prominent in Norway, due to a member of the Norwegian Royal Family espousing such concepts. More generally, few people with any major fame in Denmark have made public statements in favour of New Age concepts such as healing, clairvoyance or astrology. One of the few exceptions is businesswoman and former model Henriette Zobel (b. 1961), who now works as a “spiritual coach”. The New Age hence largely remains an interest confined to people’s private spheres.

Centres and Teachers: A Few Examples

Numerous New Age teachers have been active on the Danish scene. Some have worked independently, whereas others have formed centres or (more or less) loosely-knit organisations. As everywhere else, successful teachers have educated generations of new teachers, so that many practitioners are linked through personal networks and share roughly the same ideas. During the formative years of the New Age movement, many of these loose networks emerged from milieus interested in alternative medicine, or Theo­ sophical and spiritualist milieus, often thanks to the activities of energetic religious entrepreneurs. One of these individuals was Frank Munkø (1941– 2004), originally a coppersmith, but from his late twenties a self-made healer and clairvoyant who, based at Daniel Kirken (The Daniel Church) which had previously accommodated a spiritualistic congregation, offered healing, psychic reading, and contacts with the dead. Munkø practised “magnetic healing” from 1972, but broadened his activities around 1980, occasionally in collaboration with representatives of the Liberal Catholic Church and Theosophists in Copenhagen. Today Munkø is cherished by many New Age enthusiasts as a beloved pioneer. Daniel Kirken, which functioned as an intermediary between early twentieth-century spiritualism and Theosophy, and the subsequent New Age, ceased its activities in 2008 (Lund Jensen 2004). Other individuals with similar backgrounds have had an even more direct impact, one of the more important being Irishman Bob Moore (1928–2008), who settled in Denmark in 1974 and opened an international New Age centre near the town of Ringkøbing. Among his many interests, he focused in particular on “energy work” and aura reading. Moore has inspired many other practitioners, and he is a common reference in Danish New Age professionals’ self-presentations. Moore had a significant impact on former academic Jes Bertelsen (b. 1946), who probably is the most important “spiritual teacher” and author currently in operation. Bertelsen vehemently rejects the label “New Age”, although his

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system includes Jungian psychology, Tibetan Buddhism, aura reading, alchemy, colour symbolism, mandala meditation, chakras, cosmic voices, “inner Tantra”, and many other disciplines and notions eclectically combined in the New Age milieu. Bertelsen and his associates have offered courses since 1982, when his commune and retreat, Vækstcentret (The Centre of Growth), was established in the village of Nørre Snede in central Jutland. Still thriving, and continuously evolving, the centre is probably, apart from the Martinus Institute, the most long-lived place of its kind in Denmark (Hinge 1995). Asger Lorentsen (1949–2012) was another energetic New Age activist. Originally, Lorentsen was affiliated with Ananda Tara Shan’s (a.k.a. Jeanne Morashti, 1946–2002) Theosophical off-shoot Shan the Rising Light (which was formed in Denmark in 1987 on the basis of a fellowship dating back to 1982, later transformed into Teosofisk Fellowship [Theosophical Fellowship]), but he separated from Ananda and became a teacher and author in his own right. In 1994 he founded the Golden Circle, which later established a centre in Crete. Lorentsen’s approach was Theosophical, but by cutting loose from the Theosophical establishment, he became instrumental in the introduction of Theo­sophical concepts into the open cosmology of New Age thought. For more information on Lorentsen’s Theosophical roots, see the chapter on Theo­ sophically influenced movements in Denmark, in the present volume. Former pop musician, Lars Muhl (b. 1956), also deserves a mention. Accord­ ing to his autobiographical notes, he had his first experience of enlightenment in 1968 at the age of twelve, and in 1993 he came forward as a teacher of a message that contains obvious New Age references. On the one hand, Muhl’s teachings involve topics such as psychological harmony, bodily health, and “inner states” as opposed to materialism, but he is primarily a strong proponent of occultist or “Mystery School”-based traditions centred on New Age renderings of Biblical mythology. In several books he expounds the “real teachings of Jesus” (whom he refers to by the Hebrew name, Yeshua), and one of his organisations, Gilalai Institut for Energi og Bevidsthed (The Gilalai Institute for Energy and Consciousness), according to Muhl, offers the same insight that “Yeshua the Nazarene and Mary Magdalene” most likely had received from “The Mystery tradition of Therapists in Alexandria, and by the Dead Sea”. Lars Muhl is not only a prolific writer. He lectures frequently, and his appearances are usually sold out many months before they take place. Muhl also arranges “Holy Grail trips” to France for small groups of devoted participants. Yet another example is teacher and author Steen Kofoed, who has been active since the mid-1980s and has had a key role in teaching others to provide a variety of New Age services. His Healerskolen (The Healer School) was established in 1989 as one of the first venues of its kind, and – according to

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the School’s own statement – more than 1,100 students have passed through the school. Currently, it is claimed, 45% of these former pupils work as professional healers. Kofoed has created several healing modalities, including Sindsro (Peace in Mind) which, among other things, is offered as an alternative to psychiatric treatment; LYSiDIG (LIGHTinYOU) which is supposed to make the individual experience his or her “inner sacredness”; and the Buddhi procedure which will cleanse the practitioner’s chakras. Working with “spiritual beings in the spiritual realm”, Kofoed also offers to communicate with clients at a physical distance, via a procedure known as Spirit Cards. Psychologist Birgit Klein (b. 1945) is a further example. She works as an astrologer, clairvoyant guide, and author, and has done so since the early 1980s when, inspired by “spiritual experiences” while practicing Transcendental Meditation, she was given “a conscious contact with the spiritual world”. Birgit Klein’s significance lies in her eight books, all written in a very accessible language, which have passed on her New Age perspective to a host of readers. This brief mention of a few New Age proponents with an impact in Denmark ends with Michael Barnett (b. ca. 1930) whose Wild Goose Company became known in Denmark in 1994, when National Team footballer Lars Elstrup renounced his sport in order to join Barnett’s “spiritual commune” as the initiate Dorando. This movement was, and still is, one of relatively few, and there­fore atypical, groups with a New Age message but a sectarian structure. The remodelled successor to Barnett’s movement, Solens Hjerte (Heart of the Sun), is (as the mother organisation used to be), established outside the city of Odense, where Knud Kløvedal (a.k.a. Premda) and Hubi Heiming (a.k.a. Shendo) are in charge. “Inner Light”, sacred dance, meditation, healing, pranayama, and “energy work” are among the disciplines offered to the approximately sixty residents, including home-schooled children. Communes of this kind will often identify particular sites in their vicinity as special or sacred, but a number of creeks, groves, old trees, and marshlands have also been identified by New Age practitioners more generally, as spots where healing energy enters the planet, or where the effect of healing is amplified. One example is a small hill surrounded by tall trees in Frederiksberg Have, a park in uptown Copenhagen, which in 1987 was ritually initiated as a receiver of cosmic energy during the culminations of the “Cosmic Convergence” celebrations in August that year. The event was not noticed by many in the general population, but the growing New Age community saw it as quite significant, and even at the time of writing (2014) the site continues to be regularly visited by meditation groups and the like. In the early 1990s a local radio station, Radio Lotus, would cover most of Copenhagen with daily New Age-inspired­ messages produced by whoever had signed up for air time. The “Cosmic

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Convergence” event had been announced through this station, and the ritual in Frederiksberg Have was led by clairvoyant Jaquelin Tejblum. The same station later distanced itself from Tejblum after she had begun working with an Englishman who claimed to function as a channel for the disembodied spirit of Adolf Hitler. The incident itself was one of very few cases where borders were drawn and a consensus was reached: in the otherwise utterly open and eclectic New Age milieu, where everybody is left to compose their own package of concepts and practices, channelling Hitler as an Archangel transgressed a distinct boundary.

Nyt Aspekt and Steen Landsy

The perhaps most important channel of distribution of New Age in Denmark is the magazine Nyt Aspekt (New Aspect), and the guide published in association with it. This magazine has, since the New Age interest boomed in Denmark in the early 1980s, been the hub of most activities and the primary scene for the sharing of information, debates, and so forth. Perhaps surprisingly, Nyt Aspekt grew out of what was originally a UFO magazine published by a small UFO-interested group, FUFOS (Frederiksberg UFO Studiekreds; The Frederiksberg UFO Study Group), established in May 1968 by Steen Landsy and his associates. Landsy later broadened his interests, and became instrumental in the dissemination of the New Age in Denmark, but until 1982–1983 his activities were primarily centred on the notion of UFO s and extraterrestrial contact. Landsy, however, had already begun working as a “spiritual teacher” in 1976, thereby promoting New Age concepts to a growing number of people. His current work is based at the Kosmos Center (Cosmos Centre), a “school for spiritual understanding and healing” where he (and his wife, Ingelise Landsy) offer Martinus-inspired clairvoyance, massage, healing and therapy for individuals and companies. The magazine Nyt Aspekt is published by Foreningen Nyt Aspekt (The Association New Aspect). In 2007 there were approximately 7,000 members of the organisation (which is the same as the subscribers to the publication), but as many as 75,000 sample copies of the magazine were distributed. Presently five people are employed, while it took fifteen employees to run the magazine in 1996 during its heyday. Nyt Aspekt is published four times a year, including a 28–48 page guide that covers all aspects of the New Age scene. The readership reaches more than 18,000 per issue, and 52% confirm that they make use of one or more of the offers announced in the journal (according to their website ). The best source of information to what is going on in the New Age milieu in Denmark remains this publication and its associated website.

References

Ahlin, Lars, “Nye spirituelle og religiøse grupper i Aarhus”, in: Lars Ahlin et al. (eds.), Religion i Aaarhus 2013, ch. 6; unpaginated online publication at . Hanegraaff, Wouter, New Age Religion and Western Culture: Esotericism in the Mirror of Secular Thought, Leiden, etc.: Brill, 1996. Hinge, Helle, New Age på dansk. Jes Bertelsen-bevægelsen, København: Gyldendal, 1995. Jensen, Ann Lund, Åndernes Vidne – Mennesket, Mediet Og Magnetisøren Frank Munkø, N.p.: Svanur, 2004. Petersen, René Dybdal, I lysets tjeneste. Nye religiøse og spirituelle grupper i Danmark, Århus: Univers, 2005. Rothstein, Mikael (ed.), New Age Religion and Globalization, RENNER Studies on New Religions Vol. V, Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 2012. ——— . “The Study of New Religions in Denmark: A Brief and Subjective Research History 1985–2014”, in: James R. Lewis & Inga B. Tøllefsen (eds.), Handbook of Nordic New Religions, Leiden: Brill, 2015, 15–35.

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Chapter 37 New Age in Finland

New Age in Finland Tom Sjöblom

The Development of New Age Spirituality in Finland

According to Kimmo Ketola, the early years of New Age spirituality in Finland are connected with the establishment of two associations, Oraansuojelijat and Rajatiedon yhteistyöryhmä, both founded in the early 1970s. Oraansuojelijat (The Sprout Guardians) was founded in the early 1973 as an ideological association for backing up a vegetarian restaurant enterprise. In addition to running the restaurant, the association criticised modern Western society as being estranged from nature and immersed in material hedonism. It promoted a more balanced, creative, and richer life through simplicity, distribution of power, and an appreciation of crafts and of the diversity of human skills. It was also among the first associations to promote counter-cultural communities in Finland (Ketola 2003: 57–58). While the original goal was simply to advance the awareness of human beings as a part of nature and to attempt to promote a more ecological world view, due to the interests of some of its members, spirituality soon became an important part of the activities of The Sprout Guardians (Olavinen 1989: 18–19, 30). In connection with this, the magazine Uuden Ajan Aura (The Plow of New Age) was founded in 1976. The articles of this magazine dealt with philosophical themes, ecological issues, and cultural criticism but also with Eastern religions, art, and music. The magazine was published until 1982 (Ketola 2003: 59). The spiritual visions of some of the members led to a schism within the movement, which resulted in many of the original members abandoning it and founding new forums in order to fulfill their goals. Thus, some of the former Sprout Guardians joined the ecological Koijärvi Movement in 1979, which introduced ecological activism into the Finnish political system and can be seen as the executive force behind the political party Vihreät (The Finnish Greens). The Finnish Greens first took part in parliamentary elections in 1983 and became a registered political party in 1988. The popularity of the party has grown steadily since that time and in the elections of 2007 it peaked with fifteen seats in the Finnish parliament (dropping to ten seats in 2011). The Greens

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are especially popular among young urban individuals with an academic education (Ketola 2003: 60. See also the home page of the Finnish Greens )./ What is worth mentioning here is that support for the Greens is unusually high in Finland, making it the fourth largest political party in the country. The popularity of the Greens suggests that urbanised younger generations of Finns are open to alternative life-styles and ecological awareness. However, it is a political movement and not a spiritual one. Indeed, most of the more spiritually inclined members of the Sprout Guardians went ahead and established their own associations focusing on various alternative religious traditions. Thus, the New Age Movement was channelled into totally new forms of activities and cultural expressions (See Ketola 2003: 60). The second influential association from the early 1970s is Rajatiedon yhteistyöryhmä (The Network for Paranormal Knowledge). It was established in order to function as a co-operative network for new paranormal associations in the country, but the emergence of such associations was so rapid that the idea of organising a yearly festival, in which different associations could present their activities, soon came up. The first of these festivals was held in 1983, in the tradition of the Mind, Body & Spirit festivals held in London since 1977 (Ketola 2003: 60; see also for information on the Finnish network and on the London Festival). The yearly festival has proven to be a very popular form of counter-cultural spirituality and the number of exhibitors and presenters participating in it has grown during the last decade, from around sixty to approximately 200. The number of visitors has been in the range of three to five thousand yearly, reaching 6,500 visitors during the peak years in the middle of the 1990s (Ketola 2003: 60; ). Since 1996 a second festival called Minä Olen (I Am) has been held in Helsinki, and has attracted the same number of visitors. Today similar festivals are organised also in other localities in Finland (Vuorila 1996: 20; Waris 1997: 17; ). In addition to these two associations, an important forum for New Age spirituality in Finland is the esoteric monthly magazine Ultra published by the independent publishing house Kustannus OY Rajatieto. Under the management of its editor-in-chief, the ufologist Tapani Kuningas, this magazine has been published since 1972, first under the name Ufoaika (UFO Era) and from 1975 under its present name. The articles cover a wide range of esoteric topics, and also include sceptical contributions. Its circulation is 5,300 copies. The publishing house also publishes esoteric literature. In addition to its

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publishing activities, the magazine every summer organises Ultrapäivät (The Ultra Symposium; ) at the Kuortane Sports Resort in western Finland. This symposium includes talks, presentations, and exhibitions connected with esoteric and occult topics.

Bookstores and Healing Practices

To get an idea of the nature of New Age spirituality in Finland, one way to proceed is to examine what kinds of exhibitors participate in Finnish festivals of alternative spirituality. The combined results of a survey conducted by Kimmo Ketola of the exhibitors participating in the Mind, Body & Spirit Festival in Helsinki in 2002 and the I Am festival of 2003 are as follows (Ketola 2003: 65): Exhibitors

Number

%

Commercial Alternative medicine, healing Clairvoyants, astrologers, and mediums Religious associations: yoga and meditation Others In all

139 83 32 35 25 314

44 26 10 11 9 100

This table clearly demonstrates that different commercial enterprises constitute by far the largest group of exhibitors. Most important among these are bookstores that specialise in esoteric and New Age literature. The first New Age bookstores opened in Helsinki in the early 1980s. During the 1990s they spread to other major towns in Finland. Era Nova in Helsinki is the largest of these. The topics vary from healing to spiritual growth, and from meditation and yoga to tarot and runes. Most of the titles on sale are in English. In addition to books, music, therapeutic stones, incense, and other products generally associated with the New Age milieu are also available (Ketola 2003: 61–62). The dominance of commercial initiatives at such events is symptomatic of the nature of the New Age movement in Finland, as elsewhere. While it is a social movement, it is a social movement consisting of individuals. In contrast to traditional types of religious behaviour, participants do not necessarily ­associate themselves with any one group or teacher. Instead, they act like consumers, who construct their own spirituality by gathering and buying different products and services made available to them. This applies also to the second

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largest group of exhibitors: practitioners of alternative medicine and healing. The range and selection here is quite extensive and global. The exhibition catalogue from the 2006 Mind, Spirit & Body Festival, for example, gives a list which includes traditional Finnish folk medicine, aromatherapy, traditional Chinese medicine, homeopathy, bioenergy, reiki, shindo, and other methods (Koivunen, Mero & Pirinen 2006). A similar kind of relationship between service providers and customers applies also to the third largest group of exhibitors, i.e., clairvoyants, astrologers, and mediums. In Finland, the best-established group among these is probably the astrologers. There are between ten and twenty professional astrologers in Finland. They tend to describe their activities as a form of life management consulting. In addition to astrology, other popular practices in this group are tarot reading and clairvoyant consultations. Numerology, palmistry, and feng shui are other examples (Ketola 2003: 65–66). Only 11% of the exhibitors represent alternative spiritual communities. Moreover, a majority of these do not see themselves as religious or spiritual associations at all. Instead, they operate on the basis of providing meditation services or complementary therapies to a general audience. Among such associations one finds various yoga schools operating in Finland, as well as the Ananda Marga and Amma Center movements. Moreover, the religious and ideological associations present at these fairs include, among others, the Theosophical Society and the Freemasons, which should strictly speaking not be considered a part of New Age spirituality and are covered in other chapters in the present volume. Thus, as pointed out by Ketola, the overall picture emerging from the survey is that New Age in Finland is closely connected with health, healing, and life management. Most typically, New Age is associated with different types of service providers, such as alternative bookstores, professional astrologers, and meditation schools (See Ketola 2003: 66–68).

New Age as Modern Finnish Folk Religion

The trends present in Finnish New Age spirituality are largely imported from other countries (Martikainen 2004: 260–284). The question one must then ask is how widely these trends have spread into Finnish popular religion. This issue was dealt with in a survey conducted by the Church Research Institute in 1999 (Kirkkomonitor 1999). According to this survey, the number of people who strongly believe in the above-mentioned elements connected with New Age spirituality is very low. Usually, only one or two percent of the respondents identified themselves as

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belonging to this category. However, if we include those who think that practices connected with New Age spirituality are likely to be valid, the number of believers increases drastically. To cite just two examples, 44% of the respondents thought that alternative medicine provides better cures for illnesses than traditional Western medicine does, and 23% said that they are interested in meditation. Much in keeping with the self-presentation of the New Age milieu, nearly half of the respondents stated that they were interested in spirituality, and that they sought to incorporate new elements into their own world view. 37% stated that spiritual growth was very important to them, to the extent that they were willing to pay for spiritual services. As for alternative bookstores and other service producers, 32% of the respondents were willing to buy spiritual literature, while 17% would also buy other items (like aromatic oils and therapeutic stones) and services (like therapies and astrological consultations) associated with the New Age milieu (Kirkkomonitor 2000). In conclusion, it can be argued that New Age spirituality has its established place in the Finnish religious landscape. While a truly alternative life style and world view has attracted only a small minority of people, some aspects of New Age spirituality have become an integral part of Finnish popular religiosity. Nevertheless, New Age spirituality in Finland is mainly a phenomenon of interest to middle-aged, urban, and well-educated women, who also in other areas of their daily life are in contact with global trends and influences (Takanen 2001: 38).

References

Ketola, Kimmo, “Uusi kansanomainen uskonnollisuus”, in: Kimmo Kääriäinen, Kati Niemelä & Kimmo Ketola (eds.), Moderni kirkkokansa. Suomalalainen uskonnollisuus uudella vuosituhannella, Publications of the Church Research Institute 82, Jyväskylä: Gummerus, 2003, 53–86. Koivunen, Helmi, Vuokko Mero, and Juhani Pirinen, Hengen ja Tiedon messujen messulehti, Helsinki: Rajatiedon Yhteistyö ry, 2006. Martikainen, Tuomas, “The Global New Age”, in: Jari Kupiainen, Erkki Sevänen & John A. Stotesbury (eds.): Cultural Identity in Transition: Contemporary Conditions, Practices and Politics of a Global Phenomenon, New Delhi: Atlantic Publishers, 2004, 260– 284. Olavinen, Juha, “Oraansuojelijat: kronikka Kasvisravintolan synnystä ja yhdistyksen varhaisemmista vaiheista”, in: Juha Olavinen, J.O. Mallander & Echo Lahdenmäki (eds.), Oraansuojelijat: Tätä aikaa etsimässä, Helsinki: Oraansuojelijat, 1989.

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Takanen, Mirva, Suomalainen uushenkisyys: Hengen ja Tiedon Messut. Uskonnon sosiaalisen muodon muutos suomalaisessa yhteiskunnassa. Unpublished MA-thesis. Department of Comparative Religion, University of Helsinki, 2001. Vuorila, Heikki, “Minä Olen – messut tulivat jäädäkseen”, Ultra 25:3 (1996), 20. Waris, Menna, “Minä Olen –messut hakee paikkaansa Hengen ja Tiedon jalanjäljissä”, Ultra 26.3 (1997), 17.

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Chapter 38 New Age in Norway

New Age in Norway Ingvild Sælid Gilhus

New Age up to the 1970s

The background of the New Age in Norway was, like in other countries, the countercultural movement of the late 1960s, characterised by political radicalism, the anti-war movement, hippie culture, the use of psychoactive drugs, pop music, a growing ecological awareness, and an interest in Asian religions. In the early 1970s, New Religious Movements of Asian provenance such as Hare Krishna (ISKCON), Ananda Marga, the Divine Light Mission of guru Maharaji Ji, Maharishi Mahesh Yogi’s Transcendental Meditation as well as the Western, sufi-inspired Eckankar and the Christian-inspired Children of God had representatives in Norway. Through information meetings and courses, for instance at the universities, the representatives of these movements contributed to increase the general awareness of Eastern religions and to nourish countercultural religious syncretism and alternative spirituality in Norwegian youth culture. In the 1970s there existed several distribution centres for alternative thought and lifestyle, including religious ones. Most important among them were the countercultural work communes in Hjelmsgata 1 in Oslo and on Karlsøy in Troms. In 1976 Karma Tashi Ling, a centre for Tibetan Buddhism, was opened in Oslo. It attracted people from countercultural milieus as well as Buddhists. Magazines and periodicals were important vehicles for alternative thought in the 1970s when thirty-six different titles, most of them short-lived, were published (Ahlberg 1980: 221). The most important were Vibra (appearing in 1969), Gateavisa (the Street Paper, published 1970-), Vannbæreren (Aquarius, 1974– 78), Arken (1978–1989) and Josefine (1971–1977). While occultism, Christian mysticism, and alternative religious movements and therapies were among the topics of Gateavisa in the early 1970s, the publication soon changed its profile and largely stopped carrying articles on these topics. The religious part of the counterculture was then continued by Vannbæreren, which was the largest countercultural magazine in the Nordic countries. Vannbæreren published many articles about ecology and religion. The tradition of Vannbæreren was continued by Arken, which started out as a more broadly countercultural publication, but became a vehicle of anthroposophical thought, while Josefine

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from the beginning was an anthroposophic periodical, concentrating on meditation, spiritualism, and consciousness, as well as on ecology and biodynamic farming. Ecological thinking and the preservation of natural resources have been a major component of the Norwegian counterculture from the beginning, frequently with connections to alternative religious thinking. Biodynamic farming, for instance, became an ideal for several of the countercultural communes that were established in the 1970s. Most of them, however, were short-lived. Ecological thinking and environmental concerns were nourished by the deep ecology of the philosopher Arne Næss (1912–2009). Deep ecology is characterised by a belief in the inherent value of all living beings, regardless of their utilitarian instrumental benefits for humans. Ecological thinking and concerns for the environment were further nourished by two massive demonstrations against the exploitations of the river Mardøla (1970) and the river Alta (1979–80) to get hydroelectric power. In his Økologi, samfunn og livsstil, utkast til en økosofi, 1974 (translated into English as Ecology, Community and Lifestyle: Outline of an Ecosophy, 1989), Arne Næss was influenced by the neohinduism of Mahatma Gandhi in his support of pantheism and non-violence, and his use of Hindu concepts and belief in the intrinsic value of all living beings. In 1987, Erik Damman, who was the founder and leader of the movement Fremtiden i våre hender (The Future in Our Hands), working for political, personal, and social change and for a just world, published Bak tid og rom (Behind Time and Space, 1987) where he presented the attempts by central New Age thinkers to create a synthesis between religion and science. One main influence on alternative religious thinking in Norway has been the considerable number of people who have taken courses in meditation. Maharishi Mahesh Yogi visited Oslo in 1960 and gave a lecture. Courses in TM meditation started in the 1960s, and in 1965, a Norwegian section of Maharishi’s organisation, Spiritual Regeneration Movement, was established. From the 1960s until today, some forty to fifty thousand people have attended courses in Transcendental Meditation. In 1966, students at the University of Oslo on the initiative of Are Holen founded AMS (Academic Meditation Society). To begin with, AMS cooperated closely with TM, but the group broke loose from Maharishi Mahesh Yogi’s organisation in 1972 and changed its name to Acem in 1974 (Løøv 2010). Acem rejected the Hindu background and Eastern philosophy of TM and increasingly promoted this-worldly goals and sought its support in science and Western psychology instead of in religion. TM’s meditation on a mantra was in Acem replaced by meditation on a “method sound”. Its ideal is to avoid any connotation of mysticism, and to provide a method of meditation

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with no links to religion. Today Acem is an international school of meditation with yoga and meditation centres in Sweden, Denmark, Holland, Great Britain, Germany, India, and Taiwan, in addition to Norway. About 60,000 people have attended its introductory courses in Norway. The organisation publishes the magazine Dyade.

The 1980s and Beyond

During the 1980s a change took place in the New Age/alternative religious milieu. While the 1970s and much of the 1980s were characterised by the introduction of new religious ideas, a great variety of approaches, and small and marginal groups, the 1990s and beyond have been characterised by consolidation, networking, and a wider circulation of alternative religious ideas and practices in society. New Age spirituality in Norway has gradually become part of the mainstream, and has increasingly become commercialised. Today there is also a stronger focus on healing and alternative medicine than in the earlier phases (Kalvig 2013). Books constitute an important means of disseminating New Age ideas. Certain publishing houses and book clubs have specialised in New Age literature and have taken an active part in the distribution of alternative religious ideas and techniques. Most of these books are translations, mainly from English. A number of Norwegian authors have written books that allegedly are channelled from various spiritual sources. Among these are Bente Müller, Gry Jannicke Jarlum, and Rita Eide. Bente Müller’s book Gjennom lysmuren (Through the Light Barrier, 1985) was channelled from an entity named Era, presented as the female original principle. Gry Jannicke Jarlum’s book, Du er jeg (You are I, 1994), is written by means of automatic writing and built on Jarlum’s own alleged experience of being abducted by UFO s. Rita Eide is one of two individuals in Norway who claim that they act as channels for princess Diana (Dianas bok. Gaven fra himmelen, 1998; English translation The Celestial Voice of Diana: Her Spiritual Guide of Finding Love, 1999). Margit Sandemo (b. 1924) is an author in a different genre. She writes historical novels in which important ingredients are ideas from traditional folk religion – Old Age – combined with New Age beliefs and ideas. Sandemo had at the time of writing (2014) written some 180 books that have sold more than 35 million copies. She has clearly contributed to the distribution of alternative religious ideas and values in Norwegian society.

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Energica, a book club for “soul, body and consciousness” with more than 10,000 members, distributes books that deal with subjects such as the interpretation of auras, feng shui, healing, astrology, and crystals, and sells New Age objects and CDs as well. Energica also arranges courses, for instance in angel healing and astrological consultations, and provides services associated with New Age niche tourism. There are specific hubs in the New Age networks from which ideas about spirituality and self-development are disseminated. Examples of such hubs have been the Mandala Centre, established in 1978, first on Bauker farm in Eastern Gausdal and later in Oslo; ArunA Academy (1993-) in Oslo; and ILIANA Nordic Academy (1983-) in Oslo. In 2007, Princess Märtha Louise and Elisabeth Nordeng (formerly Samnøy) established Astarte Education (later Astarte Inspiration). The centres offer courses based on a variety of ideas and techniques which are also frequently combined with each other. These centres share a holistic and spiritualistic worldview combined with a therapeutic approach to human beings. Among the specialities of Astarte Education are angel meditations and angel therapies, and Princess Märtha Louise and Elisabeth Nordeng have also published books on angels (Møt din skytsengel [Meet your Guardian Angel], 2009 and Englenes hemmeligheter [The Secrets of the Angels], 2012). The establishing of Astarte Education led to a media debate in Norway, mainly because of the royal status of one of the authors. Among other things, the debate illustrates the challenges from religious globalisation of a New Age spirituality type to a secularised and Lutheran society where 77% are members of the Church of Norway (as of 1 January 2012) and the changes that have taken place. In many ways New Age spirituality is the new folk religion. A mediator of many of the things that can be found on the Norwegian New Age scene today is the organisation Alternativt nettverk (Alternative Network), established in 1992. It publishes a magazine, originally called Nettverksnytt (News of the Network), then Alternativt nettverk and, from 2006, Visjon (Vision). It is a magazine for spirituality, complementary and alternative medicine, and alternative ways of living, and includes articles on topics such as aroma therapy, homeopathy, reflexology, regression therapy, holistic massage, Reiki and other forms of healing, yoga, Osho body therapies, astrology, chakra balancing, aura interpretation, tarot reading, and acupuncture. It also includes articles about international figures on the New Age scene and regularly presents new books. The magazine has a separate section with advertisements for alternative therapists (“Therapists in network”). In addition to publishing the magazine Visjon, the organisation Alternativt nettverk also arranges alternative fairs – Alternativmesser – in several cities in

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Norway. These fairs take place once a year and include self-presentations by religious organisations, therapists who offer their services, sales booths for New Age merchandise and various types of courses. The first alternative fair was arranged in Oslo in 1993 with 4,000 visitors. Today there are approximately fifty different fairs with a total of 100,000 visitors. The largest is in Lillestrøm with 15,000 visitors in 2013. The founders of Alternativt nettverk were Øyvind Solum and Roald Pettersen. Solum combines a commitment to the variety within the New Age/ alternative movement with a belief in the existence of certain common ideas that unify the field. Chief among them is holism. Together with the belief in a spiritual unity in diversity goes Solum’s talent as a religious entrepreneur and his ability to create umbrella organisations. In 2002 Holistisk Forbund (The Holistic Federation of Norway) was founded. Its aim is to promote alternative healthcare, support sustainable commerce and economics, and nourish ecological and global awareness. According to the self-presentation of the organisation, Holistisk Forbund recognises the spiritual dimensions of all life and its interdependence. It differentiates between spirituality and religion, does not accept the term religion, and represents a non-dogmatic approach to spirituality. The organisation attempts to systematise and make New Age into a comprehensive view of life and a well-defined alternative to Christianity and traditional belief systems on the one hand, and to the secular humanist association Human-Etisk Forbund (The Norwegian Humanist Association) on the other. At the time of writing, Holistisk Forbund is in the process of building up local branches and establishing alternatives to the rites of passage offered respectively by the Church of Norway and HumanEtisk Forbund (i.e., name-giving, confirmation, wedding, and burial). So far, few have chosen the holistic alternatives. Holistisk forbund has its root in the alternative movement and in the milieu connected to Alternativt Nettverk in Oslo.

References

Ahlberg, Nora, Religiøs motkultur i Norge, 1967–1978, Ph.d. dissertation, University of Oslo, 1980. Botvar, Pål Ketil, “Why New Age is Giving Way to Spirituality: The Silent Revolution within Alternative Religiosity”, in: Inger Furseth and Paul Leer-Salvesen (eds.), Reli­ gion in Late Modernity. Essays in Honour of Pål Repstad, Trondheim: Tapir Aca­demic Press, 2007, 87–100.

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Botvar, Pål Ketil and Ulla Schmidt (eds.), Religion i dagens Norge: Mellom sekularisering og sakralisering. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 2010. Engedal, Leif Gunnar and Arne Tord Sveinall (eds.), Troen er løs, Trondheim: Tapir akademisk forlag (Egede instituttet), 2000. Gilhus, Ingvild Sælid and Lisbeth Mikaelsson, Kulturens refortrylling, Oslo: Universitets­ forlaget, 2005. ——— .  (eds.), Skjult visdom – universelt brorskap. Teosofi i Norge, Oslo: Emilia forlag, 1998. Kalvig, Anne, Åndeleg helse: Livssyn og menneskesyn hos alternative terapeutar, Oslo: Cappelen Damm Akademiske, 2013. Løøv, Margrethe, Fra Veda til vitenskap. En kulturanalytisk studie av meditasjonsorganisasjonen Acems utvikling, M.A. Thesis, University of Oslo, 2010. Uldal, Geir and Geir Winje, Hekser og healere. Religion og spiritualitet i det moderne, Oslo: Høyskoleforlaget, 2007.

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Chapter 39 New Age in Sweden

New Age in Sweden Liselotte Frisk The New Age in Sweden was, as in other countries, the result of various cultural currents and social changes during the 1960s and 1970s. In the following, I will focus on the most important vehicles for New Age thought and practice – New Age bookshops, magazines, publishing companies, New Age centres and institutes, festivals, and personalities – and the specific developments in Sweden.

Publications

One important hallmark was the opening of the New Age bookshop Vattu­ mannen (Aquarius) in 1972 in the university town of Uppsala by Per Frisk, at the time a young student (b. 1949) with many interests in the alternative scene, including Theosophy, Anthroposophy, Tibetan Buddhism, and the Indian guru Sri Chinmoy. The bookshop moved to Stockholm in 1973, and has now (2014) been situated in the same place in central Stockholm since the end of the 1970s, however since the early 2000s with other owners. The second New Age bookshop in Sweden, Näckrosen (The Water Lily), opened in Gothenburg in 1976, and was closed a couple of years ago. Another one, East & West, opened in Stockholm in 1982, but closed around 1992 due to financial difficulties. Per Frisk and his wife Monica Katarina Frisk have over the years remained central characters associated with New Age publications in Sweden. Since 1984 they have been the owners of the publication Energivågen (The Wave of Energy), renamed Free­– din ledstjärna (Free – Your Guiding Star) in 2010, a free advertisement magazine for New Age goods and services that had been launched in 1982 by among others Tomas Frankell (see below). Today Free is printed bimonthly in 25,000 copies. Per Frisk and Monica Katarina Frisk were also the owners of the publishing house Energica between 1984 and 2008. Energica has published many important New Age-related titles, some of which are translations from English. Among the more successful titles are, for example, You can Heal your Life by Louise Hay which has sold in more than 80,000 copies, and Creative Visualisation by Shakti Gawain which has sold in more than 70,000 copies. At the end of 1990s, they published the bestseller The Power

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of Now by Eckhart Tolle, which sold more than 90,000 copies, and in the middle of the 2000s The Secret by Rhonda Byrne, with more than 110,000 copies. Between 1991 and 2008 Per Frisk and Monica Katarina Frisk were also the owners of the monthly magazine Hälsa (Health), originally started by the health pioneer Are Waerland in 1940, with a print run of 39,600 copies in 2013. In 2008 Hälsa and Energica publishing house were sold to Forma Publishing Group, the third biggest media company in Sweden, that also owns several mainstream magazines and publishing companies. This sale may be seen as one expression of New Age becoming mainstream. An important early forerunner of these New Age publications was the magazine Sökaren (The Seeker), owned by Sven Magnusson (1930–2008), and issued regularly between 1964 and 2008. Articles published in Sökaren were concerned with various religions and world views, and over time came to include material relevant to New Age concerns, the paranormal and methods for inner growth. During the 1970s and 1980s, New Age material had become dominant and the print runs quite large, but later Sökaren attracted fewer readers and ended up as a special-interest magazine with approximately 1,000 subscribers. Another alternative magazine, Nexus, was launched in 1976 and was in print for a few years. The owner, Peter Sandblad, was mainly interested in humanistic psychology and the Osho movement, and this was reflected in the contents of the magazine. It may be mentioned as a curiosity that writer Monica Katarina Frisk (then Monica Seilitz), also participated in the editorial work for a couple of years in Nexus, before she started to develop the magazine Energivågen.

Centres and Institutes

Various New Age centres have also been important vehicles for New Age thought and practice. Also here there were forerunners, for example Måndagsgruppen (The Monday Group), a venue that was in operation in Stockholm between 1951 and 1994, where one could attend lectures on philosophy, religion, mysticism, and science. The first distinctly New Age-oriented centre, Hälsans hus (The House of Health) – which by its very name signals the important role health and healing play in the New Age milieu – opened in Stockholm in 1971, and from 1976 up to the time of writing (2014) has been located at the same address in central Stockholm. Hälsans hus is organised as a foundation, with the purpose to create a forum for physical and spiritual health. The ideology of the foundation comes from the health movement – vegetarianism, exercise, abstinence from tobacco and alcohol, environmentalism, and peace. Hälsans

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hus rents space to a variety of associations and individuals with purposes compatible with this basic ideology, including Hälsofrämjandet, an organisation that promotes a healthy life-style; Stiftelsen Martinus Institut (see the chapter on Martinus Cosmology in the present volume); Nordiska Yogainstitutet (Nordic Yoga Institute); and practitioners of a wide variety of complementary therapies such as acupuncture, rebirthing, energy balancing, gestalt therapy, various kinds of massage, and Rosen therapy. In 1976 a growth centre, Galleri Medmera (a nearly untranslatable name roughly meaning “Gallery Andsoforth”), was opened in Stockholm by a group of eight people. Lena Kristina Tuulse, who was to become the front figure for the Human Potential Movement in Sweden, was one of them. Tuulse had been active in this environment for a few years, and was at that time engaged as a gestalt therapist and also worked with body therapies. After some time, she took over the leadership of Galleri Medmera, now renaming it Wäxthuset Galleri Medmera. It continued its operations in Stockholm until 1979. Also in 1976, Lena Kristina Tuulse opened Wäxthuset (The Growth House) on Väddö some distance from Stockholm, a therapy centre which was also residential. One of her key interests has been rebirthing (a breathing method sometimes described as a milder form of primal therapy), which has been the most important therapy at Wäxthuset since 1978, when the founder of the method, Leonard Orr, visited Sweden for the first time. Courses at Wäxthuset also focus on health, massage, relations, and relaxation. But there has also been a cultural engagement through her husband Tomas Tuulse, who is a musician and interested in the creative potential of the human being. In 2007 around 300 people attended courses at Wäxthuset on Väddö. Wäxthuset was sold in 2010 and functions today as an addiction treatment centre, combining conventional addiction treatments with techniques from the Human Potential Movement. There have also been quite important New Age centres in cities outside Stockholm. One example is Holistiskt Center in Gothenburg, which opened in 1983 and was in operation for several years. Another important venue for New Age activities in Sweden has been institutes conducting residential courses. There are many such institutes, each with its own specific orientation. One of the most important of these institutes is Fridhems kursgård, run by the foundation Stiftelsen Stjärnsund, which was created in 1984 by, among others, Eva and Erik Johansson with inspiration from the Findhorn Foundation in Scotland. Stiftelsen Stjärnsund has since then been an important actor on the New Age scene, hosting courses about, e.g., yoga, shiatsu, mindfulness, feng shui, tai chi, animal communication, meditation, and the creative arts. Characteristically for the New Age milieu, the group

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that runs the foundation has insisted on pluralism, and on not focusing on any specific guru or teaching. A more recent institute is Ängsbacka, founded in 1996 by a group of people who had been active in the Osho movement for many years. They wanted to include teachers and activities who were not only related to the Osho movement, but were also inspired by other spiritual teachers like Gangaji and Poonjaji. Each year, Ängsbacka kursgård hosts a one-week residential course, The No Mind Festival, which over the years has become more and more international, and attracts about 1,000 people each year. The focus of the festival lies on a variety of activities of, e.g., Indian or Native American origin, creative music and dancing, therapies and body therapies, various forms of yoga, and meetings with different teachers. The Ängsbacka festival has become a very important element of the Swedish New Age milieu, and is a place where new spiritual teachers are introduced. New Age festivals and New Age fairs have become a common feature in Sweden, in bigger cities as well as in small towns. One of the major actors is the company Harmoniexpo, which arranges Inner Harmony Fairs for body and mind. They launched their activities in 1996 and have organised fairs all over Sweden since then. These fairs are usually very well visited.

Personalities

One of the best-known New Age personalities in Sweden is Tomas Frankell (b. 1957). At the end of the 1970s he came into contact with human potential currents through Arthur Janov’s primal therapy and Barbara Findeisen’s STAR (Self Analysis Towards Awareness Rebirth, a group therapy which includes emotional catharsis and primal sessions) at Galleri Medmera. Together with a number of other people, Tomas Frankell opened Café Vega in 1981 in Stockholm, a small vegetarian restaurant with various lectures and sessions related to New Age interests, such as lectures about Martinus, Alice Bailey, C.G. Jung, Bhagwan (Osho), and the discarnate entity Ambres, that at the time was being channelled through Sture Johansson. Between 1984 and 1992, Frankell was also a driving force behind Café Pan/Pan Helhetscenter/Pan – Center för hälsa och helhet (Pan Centre for Health and Holism), also in Stockholm, with a much larger gamut of activities. Café Pan was declared to be a centre for New Age thinking, with holism as its basic philosophy. The declaration of purpose states that everything belongs together, and that whatever we do towards Earth and other humans will come back to ourselves. Furthermore, it says that humans have a spiritual aspect, and that body, mind, and spirit should be taken into

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account when treating illnesses, as the basic cause of disease is some kind of imbalance in any of these parts. Café Pan also had a vegetarian restaurant, and hosted lectures and courses on a variety of topics related to New Age. Since 1991 Tomas Frankell has run Deva Center, also in Stockholm. Deva Center (still in existence at the time of writing) focuses on teacher training in various personality development areas. Tomas Frankell has developed his own style of yoga, influenced by the kundalini yoga of Yogi Bhajan, which he calls livsyoga, i.e., yoga of life. Deva Center also conducts a yoga teacher training in this style.

The New Age Goes Mainstream

Like in other countries, parts of the New Age have during the last years become increasingly mainstream in Sweden. One component of the New Age, complementary therapies, have become very commonplace and were according to a survey conducted in 2001 used by about half of the Swedish population. Even in quite small towns, there will often be health and complementary therapy centres, where practitioners cooperate to offer therapies, yoga, and other New Age-related activities. As in other countries, yoga has become immensely popular, with more than 20 % of the Swedish population having practised yoga and meditation (according to a survey in 2008). Mindfulness has become popular as part of cognitive therapy. In the domain of popular culture, there have been several television series constructed around popular themes such as ­spirits, ghosts, and mediums, including Det okända (The Unknown), Ghost Whis­perer, Mannen som talar med andar (The Man who Talks with Spirits), and Medium. In a poll carried out in 2008, around 60 % of the Swedish population claimed to have watched one or several of these programmes.

Unpublished Materials

Interview with Per Frisk and Monica Katarina Frisk 25 April 2009. Interview with Lena Kristina Tuulse 1 November 2007. Interview with Tomas Frankell 26 August 2009. Archive material (Per Frisk), Orsa – pamphlets, letters, advertisements, minutes. Internet questionnaire made by the magazine Dagen, July 2008.

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References

Anon., “Stockholmare och den komplementära medicinen” online at . Frankell, Tomas, Sökare i en ny tid: Min väg genom nyandlighetens Sverige, Stockholm: Natur & Kultur, 2002. Frisk, Liselotte, “Vad är New Age? Centrala begrepp och historiska rötter“, Svensk religionshistorisk årsskrift (1997), 87–97. ——— . “New Age-utövare i Sverige: Bakgrund, trosföreställningar, engagemang och ‘omvändelse’”, in: Carl-Gustav Carlsson and Liselotte Frisk (eds.), Gudars och gudinnors återkomst: Studier i nyreligiositet, Umeå: Institutionen för religionsvetenskap, 2000, 52–90. ——— . “New Age Participants in Sweden: Background, Beliefs, Engagement and ´Conversion´”, in: Mikael Rothstein and Reender Kranenborg (eds.), New Religions in a Postmodern World, Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 2003, 241–256. ——— . De nya religiösa rörelserna – vart tog de vägen? En studie av Scientologi-kyrkan, Guds Barn/Familjen, Unification Church/Familjefederationen, Hare Krishna-rörelsen och Bhagwan-rörelsen och deras utveckling över tid, Nora: Nya Doxa, 2007. Hammer, Olav, På spaning efter helheten: New Age – en ny folktro? Stockholm: Wahlström & Widstrand, 2nd ed., 2004. Tuulse, Lena Kristina, Livslust: Vägen till livet och kärleken, Orsa: Energica förlag, 2003.

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Chapter 40 Occultism in Denmark

Occultism in Denmark Sara Møldrup Thejls

The Birth of Danish Occultism: Ben Kadosh

The beginning of the Danish history of occultism is closely tied to a single person, namely Carl William Hansen (1872–1936), who was later to be known as Ben Kadosh, a self-proclaimed Luciferian, alchemist, and kabbalist. His occult career began as a member of the French Order of the Martinists into which he became initiated in 1898 by the Finnish Baron Carl Alphonse Walleen-Borne­ mann, who at that time was the Danish head of the order. In time, Hansen advanced to become head the Martinist Order in Denmark, with the title of Suprême Délégué de l’Ordre. It seems that this advancement took place in 1906, at least he used this title on the cover of his publication Den ny morgens gry, Lucifer-Hiram, Verdensbygmesterens genkomst (The Dawn of the New Morning, Lucifer-Hiram, the Return of the Master Mason of the World) which appeared in 1906. The booklet promulgated esoteric Freemasonry and included a call for possible candidates to join a study group and maybe even to form a new esoteric order. Hansen termed himself a “Luciferian”, and his book is an evocation and appraisal of Lucifer in his many guises, most prominently as Pan. He is seen as the ideal of the gods, the God of gods, and is venerated as the primordial creative darkness. Furthermore, Lucifer is presented as the centre of all ancient mythologies and the foundation of life in all aspects. The peak of Hansen’s occult activities took place in the 1920s. In 1921 Hansen received a variety of charters from Theodor Reuss, Eduardo Frosini, and Joanny Bricaud, and in the same year Reuss appointed Hansen to the X˚ of the Ordo Templi Orientis (Oto). This made Hansen the Supreme and Holy King of the order in Denmark. However, it is doubtful that the Oto existed as an independent order in Denmark at this time. Rather, it probably served as an extension to the other Martinist and masonic lodges under Hansen’s control. In 1923 Hansen founded the Martinist order Sphinxen (The Sphinx) which, however, only lasted one year but was a part of Hansen’s project to introduce a system of graded orders by the name of Grand Orient de la Vraie et Haute Maçonnerie Esoterique et Gnostique du Danemark.

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Soon Hansen founded another organisation, Den Danske Stor-Orient af gamle og antagne frie Murere (The Danish Grand Orient of Ancient and Accepted Free Masons), in which he installed his co-worker Grunddal Sjallung (1895–1976) as Magus Cancellarius. The lodge used Theodor Reuss’ constitution, but not all members were satisfied with this, and in 1929 the lodge adopted regular Freemasonry and changed its name to Frimurerlauget. They used a set of rituals written by Grunddal Sjallung, the Ritus Hauniensis. In 1930 Hansen was about to be expelled from the lodge, but he resigned before the expulsion took place. Toward the end of his life, Hansen resigned from most of his masonic activities but remained active in an English Rosicrucian lodge, the German Ordo Aurea & Rosae Crucis, the French Ordre Kabbalistique de la Rose Croix, and an undefined secret “fraternitas” lodge. Both Hansen and Sjallung seem also to have inscribed themselves in the tradition of the Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica, as both of them used the symbol Tau, associated with this organisation, when signing documents. After Hansen’s death in 1936, much of his work was continued by Grunddal Sjallung who installed himself as the Rex Supremus of the OTO and rewrote the rituals. In the late 1930s he was in contact with Aleister Crowley, but Crowley seemed never to accept the way Sjallung had organised the order. In 1946 Sjallung and a number of members of the OTO left the group in order to focus on more regular masonic work. During the following years, there appeared a couple of lodges that worked with ritual magic inspired by international magical orders such as The Her­ metic Order of the Golden Dawn, the Ordo Templi Orientis Antiqua (OTOa), and the OTO. In two of these lodges a certain Johannsen was active of whom hardly anything is known except that he might have been in contact with Marc Lully of the OTOA and Pelle Bull (pseudonym of Per Jørgensen), who was later to be the co-founder of the neo-pagan community Forn Siðr. None of these groups, however, seem to have been officially recognised by any of the international counterparts of the orders.

Contemporary Ritual Magical Groups

In 1989 the Gere and Freke Camp, a local body of the OTO, was founded by Bjarne Salling Pedersen, and in 1998 he established the Starcatherus Oasis together with Isabel Munksgaard Berg. He served as the head of the Danish order until 2002. Since then the Danish OTO has led a more or less dormant existence for a few years. During this time, the name of the local body was

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changed to Athene Oasis. For a few years, the order and the associated Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica seemed again to be thriving, but at the time of writing (2014) it seems to be almost inactive, with only a handful of members. Bjarne Salling Pedersen (b. 1970) can be seen as one of the main characters of contemporary Danish occultism, as he has been the founder of at least two Danish orders: The Neo-Luciferian Church and the masonic lodge Danske Frie og Uafhængige Murere (Danish Free and Independent Masons), the only Danish masonic lodge working with Sjallung’s Ritus Hauniensis. The NeoLuciferian Church is still active, with about fifteen–twenty members in Denmark, Sweden, and Chile, whereas the masonic lodge was closed after five years. Furthermore, Pedersen was the Danish contact of Aleister Crowley’s A.˙.A.˙. Isabel Munksgaard Berg was “acting priestess” of the Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica and together Pedersen, Michael Bertiaux, and Berg established the Neo-Luciferian Church in the winter of 2004–2005 after they, in 2001, had been consecrated bishops in the Ecclesia Gnostica Spiritualis by Bertiaux. The NeoLuciferian Church uses an initiatory system of seven degrees, where the last two are administrative degrees held by only one person at a time. The highest degree, honorary Archbishop and Spiritual Supervisor, is held by Bertiaux, the sixth degree, the Archbishop and Church Leader, by Pedersen, and the fifth degree, Bishop, by Berg. The Church is tied to the Ecclesia Gnostica Spiritualis in that ordinations received in the first are acknowledged by the latter. They use a magical system that combines many different traditions, such as French occultism, thelema, occult Kabbalah (Golden Dawn), voodoo, and the sexual magic of Fraternitas Saturni. The latest addition to the occult milieu in Denmark by Berg and Pedersen is the establishment of an occult bookshop in Copenhagen called Nekropolis. The bookshop serves as a café and a venue for lectures on occult themes and social gatherings.

Neurological and Sexual Occultism: Erwin Neutzsky-Wulff

Another prominent contemporary Danish occultist is Erwin Neutzsky-Wulff (b. 1949). He is the author of many voluminous science fiction novels and of pseudo-scientific literature on magic and occultism. His first volumes on these topics, Okkultisme (Occultism, 1985) and Magi (Magic, 1986) were meant as theoretical and practical introductions to these subjects. His earlier novels also revolved around occult themes, and thus the novel Indsigtens Sted (The Place of Insight, 1980) gives a detailed description of the initiatory and magical work of a small occult circle and its relations to contemporary satanic groups. How­ ever, Neutzsky-Wulff shows nothing but disdain for these satanic and occult

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groups, and he usually designates them as mere amateurs at best. The later novel Rum (Space, 2001, which like its English counterpart can mean both the abstract “space” but also an actual physical space or location) is according to Neutzsky-Wulff the closest one can get to an actual initiation. It was followed by Det overnaturlige (The Supernatural, 2004), which he described as the ultimate grimoire. With these two books at hand, the reader should be able to transcend what is usually perceived to be reality and enter the transcendent realms. According to Neutzsky-Wulff, religion cannot be separated from sexuality in its most ritualised form, and thus true religion can only be manifest where a true sacred marriage or hieros gamos takes place. Religion and the supernatural are seen as just as real as the common reality that people perceive. It is emphasised that reality is a projection of the mind and thus purely subjective and open to change by changing one’s mind-set and perception. Accomplishing this change is, of course, not an easy task, but it can be achieved through the teachings of Neutzsky-Wulff. Women can accomplish this by becoming “temple prostitutes”, which in a contemporary setting means to be absolutely devoted and submit her life to a man. This involves being disciplined, put in a cage with fetters and to be constantly sexually available to her master. According to Neutzsky-Wulff, this method will have a quite rapid effect on the brain function, putting the pre-frontal cortex out of function so that the transcendent world can be reached. Neutzsky-Wulff suggests that the situation is a bit more complicated for a man, at least if he does not have a proper temple prostitute at his disposal. The divine needs a woman in order to become manifest, and thus woman is the direct link with the transcendent, just as she is the one who can make the transcendent become immanent. Through her, the man can obtain a connection to the transcendent reality. Another possibility for the man is to attract a female entity, a succubus, by presenting himself to her as a slave. As she descends into “ordinary” reality a path is opened for the man to transcend to her reality, the so-called “supernatural”, which in Neutzsky-Wulff’s view is far more real than what we perceive as being reality. Ritual magical groups in Denmark constitute a minor part of the Danish occult milieu, where Satanism and different forms of witchcraft and neopaganism seem to make up the most important currents. A ritual magical order which is gaining popularity in Denmark is the Swedish order Dragon Rouge, established by Thomas Karlsson in 1989. It is noteworthy that none of the larger international magical orders, such as the Hermetic Order of Golden Dawn or Temple of Set, are presently active in Denmark. This does not mean that there are no Danish members, only that currently no official branches exist in Denmark.

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References

Faxneld, Per, “The Strange Case of Ben Kadosh: A Luciferian Pamphlet from 1906 and Its Current Renaissance”, Aries: Journal for the Study of Western Esotericism 11:1 (2011), 1–22. Kadosh, Ben (Carl William Hansen), Den ny morgens gry: Lucifer-Hiram: Verdens­bygmes­ terens genkomst, Copenhagen/ Hafnia, 1906, in: Peder Byberg Madsen and Bjarne Salling Pedersen (eds.), Den ny morgens gry: Lucifer-Hiram: Verdensbygmesterens genkomst, Copenhagen/ Hafnia, 2006. König, Peter Robert, Der OTO. Phänomen REMIX, München: Arbeitsgemeinschaft für Religions- und Weltanschauungsfragen, 2001. Madsen, Peder Byberg and Bjarne Salling Pedersen, “Den hellige søn – en biografisk skitse”, in: Peder Byberg Madsen and Bjarne Salling Pedersen (eds.), Den ny morgens gry: Lucifer-Hiram: Verdensbygmesterens genkomst, Copenhagen/ Hafnia, 2006. Møldrup Thejls, Sara, “Erwin Neutzsky-Wulff and the Neurological Landscape of the Sefirot”, in: Boaz Huss, Marco Pasi and Kocku von Stuckrad (eds.), Kabbalah and Modernity, Leiden: Brill, 2010, 301–325. Neutzsky-Wulff, Erwin, Indsigtens sted, Copenhagen: Borgens Forlag, 1980. ——— . Okkultisme, Copenhagen: Borgens Forlag, 1985. ——— . Magi, Copenhagen: Borgens Forlag, 1986. ——— . Rum, Copenhagen: Borgens Forlag, 2001. ——— . Det overnaturlige, Copenhagen: Borgens Forlag, 2004.

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Chapter 41 Occultism in Finland

Occultism in Finland Kennet Granholm Research on esotericism in Finland is in its infancy, and it is therefore difficult to find reliable and comprehensive information on early occultism in the country. What can be said with certainty is that the introduction of Theosophy into Finland in the 1890s and the founding of the Finnish Section of the Theosophical Society in 1907 inspired the formation of several other movements in the country (Solhberg 2008: 205–207) (see the chapters on Theosophy in Finland and Theosophically Inspired Movements in Finland). Interest in spiritualism was on the rise in the early twentieth century, with Helmi Krohn (1871–1967) commonly being regarded as the mother of Finnish spiritualism. In 1946 she founded the first spiritualist organisation in the country, the still active Suomen spiritualistinen seura ry (Solhberg 2008: 207). The first issue of Ufoaika, a magazine primarily dealing with UFO beliefs but also carrying articles on subjects such as parapsychology and occultism, was published in 1972. In 1974 the magazine was renamed Ultra, a name under which it is still published. Due to the difficulties in gaining information on late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century occultism in Finland, I will primarily discuss the Finnish occult milieu from the 1970s onwards, with an emphasis on the situation in the early 2000s.

The Fourth Way in Finland

Individuals and groups inspired by George Ivanovitch Gurdjieff (1866?-1949) have been active in Finland since at least the late 1960s. Karatas-kirjat started publishing translations of Gurdjieff’s and his pupils’ works in 1969, and the Karatas society was formed in 1979 with the aim of disseminating Gurdjieff’s and his pupil J.G. Bennett’s (1897–1974) teachings (Heino 1997: 318–319). According to Gurdjieff, human beings act as “automatons” who are not only incapable of realising their inner potential but utterly unaware of the fact that they lead a mechanistic existence. Gurdjieffian teachings focus on awakening the human being to “real” consciousness, and in order to do this all three aspects of the human being – the body, the emotions, and the intellect – must

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be activated. Gurdjieff envisioned his school as “the Fourth Way”, the other three being the way of the fakir, the monk, and the mystic (Needleman 1993). Gurdjieff-seura (The Gurdjieff Society) was registered as a society in Finland on 19 December 2003. The society rarely organises meetings, but it has independent workgroups that are more active. The society as such does not maintain international contacts, but individual work groups collaborate with other Gurdjieffian groups in Scandinavia, England, France, and USA (Gurdjieffseura, e-mail message to author, 1 February 2007). The Neljäs Tie Suomessa website (neljastiesuomessa.net) was launched in the spring of 2004 with the aim to collect and present Finnish-language Fourth Way material and maintain a posting list and discussion forum. Gurdjieffian-style material that does not strictly adhere to the guidelines of the international Gurdjieff foundation is also disseminated on the website. In contrast to the international Gurdjieff foundation, Finnish Gurdjieffians have historically tended to be strongly oriented towards the work of J.G. Bennett (ibid.).

Thelema in Finland

The so-called Caliphate OTO was introduced into Finland in 1997, when the first Finnish member, Frater HRN, received his initiation into the order in Norway. The Finnish branch of the OTO, the Helsinki-based Pohjan Neito Encampment, was founded on 12 July 1997, and in 1998 Frater HRN was issued a charter to initiate members in Finland. Before the Finnish branch received a charter of its own, members had been initiated in Norway, Sweden, Denmark, and USA, and in Finland by visiting foreign initiators. The members of Pohjan Neito Encampment are regularly visited by foreign OTO members, and Finnish members also visit members in Europe and North-America. The closest cooperation is with the Swedish, Danish, and Norwegian branches of the order (Frater HRN, e-mail message to author, 11 November 2006). Pakanaverkko ry is an organisation that functions as a nodal point for members of various neopagan orientations. On its website the organisation provides information on different neopagan religions and various magic traditions can be found. Thelema is one of the magical traditions discussed at length on the site, and is, furthermore, discussed in an information package on paganism provided by the organisation. The Finnish online bookseller and small-print publisher Ixaxaar is strongly focused on “dark” occultism. Works published by Ixaxaar include E.A. Koet-

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tingen’s Works of Darkness: A Guide to Advanced Black Magic (2007), Archaelus Baron’s Kingdom’s of Flame: A Grimoire of Black Magic, Evocation, and Sorcery (2005), and Jeremy Christner’s Kosmology: Luciferian Philosophy (2005). The bookshop is also an important disseminator of Kenneth Grant’s (1924–2011) works in Finland. The website of Ixaxaar has its own category for “Typhonian Gnosis”, which mostly includes publications by Grant, and can thus be regarded as a propagator of the Typhonian Order in Finland.

Theosophical Satanism

The interest in the darker spectrum of occultism and so-called Left-Hand Path philosophies and practices is unusually high in Finland. Thus, the Ixaxaar online bookseller publishes and exclusively sells material of this sort, the membership of the Temple of Set in Finland is relatively large (see the chapter Satanism in Finland), and the Left-Hand Path magic order Dragon Rouge has a ritual group in the country (see Occultism in Sweden). An interesting development in Finland has been the occasional union of Satanism and Theosophy. The most famous – or perhaps infamous – of the Finnish occultists combining Theosophical metaphysics with Satanic ideology and symbolism was Pekka Siitoin (1944–2003). Siitoin was an outspoken neo-Nazi leader and self-proclaimed black magician, operating from the cities of Turku, Naantali, and Vehmaa in the south-western coastal region of Finland. Raised by rather ordinary parents, he later came to claim that his father was the German SS officer Peter von Weltheim and his mother a Russian-Finnish prostitute. He did at times refer to himself as Baron von Weltheim and published some of his books under the pseudonym of his imagined father. Siitoin became active in politics in the 1960s, grew increasingly anti-communist, right-wing, and racist from the 1970s onwards and ultimately came to state that he had been a Nazi ever since the age of four (Vil 2003: 387). He was sentenced for inciting the arson of a communist printing house and served time in jail from 1978 to 1981 (Kalliala 1999a). Siitoin’s magical activities were intimately linked to his political views and his activism, and thus the numerous organisations Siitoin founded combined these two areas. Siitoin claimed to have come into contact with the occult from an early age. He is supposed to have met a clairvoyant friend of his father when very young (Nordling & Koskela 2006: 39), having been foretold by a gypsy woman that he would grow up to be a famous man (ibid., 40, 188–189), and started practising magic in the 1960s (Vil 2003: 387). In 1971 he contacted the famous Finnish fortune-teller Aino Kassinen in order to get help with some

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financial troubles. Kassinen, who had read some Theosophical and Anthro­ po­sophical material but did not strictly work within those traditions, came to regard Siitoin as one of her most promising students (Kassinen 1972: 64–65). Directly inspired by his contact with Kassinen, Siitoin founded Turun hengentiedon seura (The Turku Occult Society) and began to publish books on magic in 1971. In the following years Siitoin also founded organisations such as Föreningen Veronica (the Veronica Organisation) and Pegasos seura (Pegasus Society, in Swedish versions of his books called Pegasos-Club) in order to market and sell occult material outside Finland, and political right-wing orga­ nisa­tions such as Isänmaallinen kansanrintama (1970s, The Patriotic Peoples Front), and Kansallis-mytologinen yhdistys (1981, The National-Mythological Association). All of Siitoin’s societies combined occultism with neo-Nazi politics in one way or another. Works with occult themes written by Siitoin and published by his various societies are Yhteys ufoihin ja henkimaailmaan (Contact with UFO s and the Spirit World, 1973; also published in a two-part Swedish-language version titled Kontakt med UFO s och andevärlden), Musta magia, osa 1 (Black Magic, part 1, 1974; also published in a Swedish-language version as Svart magi, del 1), Uuden ajan unikirja (Dream Book for a New Age, 1974; also published in a Swedishlanguage version as Nya tidens drömbok), Ufot, uskonto ja paholainen (UFOs, Religion and the Devil, 1974), Musta magia, osa 2 (Black Magic, part 2, 1975; also published in a Swedish-language version as Svart magi, del 2), Paholaisen katekismus (The Catechism of the Devil, 1977), and Kohti uutta uskoa (Towards a New Faith, 1989). Many of these books where published under pseudonyms such as Peter von Weltheim, Jonathan Shedd, and Hesiodos Foinix. The societies he founded also published books by other writers, such as Mustan magian salaisuudet by Ray Isaksson (The Secrets of Black Magic, 1985), and a translation of the grimoire The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses (Musta Raamattu, 1986). Siitoin also published a number of books that primarily focused on politics and racist propaganda (Granholm 2009). Siitoin’s approach to Satanism and magic is profoundly anti-Semitic, but not necessarily anti-Christian. In Svart magi, del 1 Siitoin identifies an impersonal God as the highest being and creator, and Jesus Christ, Satan, and Lucifer as subordinate personified gods. According to Siitoin, one can worship any of these subordinate beings as long as this is done in the name of God. Jesus Christ supports humanistic virtues, whereas Satan supports material and bodily enjoyment. Moses is regarded as the originator of magic, but the jealous subordinate god Jehova kept the knowledge of it with his chosen people, the Jews. In addition to the above-mentioned beings, Siitoin also discusses a number of hierarchically organised subordinate entities (Siitoin 1985 [1974/5]:

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14–58). Interestingly enough, despite this negative view of Jews and Judaism, these entities are based on Kabbalah and even called “Zefiroths” (Granholm 2009). In general, Siitoin’s doctrines are a mix of folk magic and Theosophical meta­physics. In Svart magi, del 1 and Svart magi, del 2 magical practices, rituals and incantations for making pacts with the devil, humiliation of and victory over enemies, calming an angry dog, curing warts, and waking the dead, etc., are described (Siitoin 1985 [1974/5]: 70–73, 89–93, 121–129). In terms of cosmogony and anthropogony, Siitoin’s teachings are largely based on H. P. Blavatsky’s writings. The material world was created by Lucifer, and both the world and human beings evolve through a seven-staged process (Shedd 1974: 12–27). Azazelin tähti (Azazel’s Star), another group that mixes Satanism and Theosophy, was founded in 2006. The fraternity identifies itself primarily as a Theosophical organisation, and acknowledges the Theosophical Society’s original threefold statement of objectives from 1875. These objectives state that the goal of the society, and thus of Azazelin tähti as well, is to function as a universal brotherhood independent of superficial differences such as race or gender, to search for the common and true core of all religions, and to investigate spiritual powers in man and nature. However, in contrast to the Theosophical Society, Azazelin Tähti insists on the primacy of Satan as a revered spiritual being. The philosophical background of the movement is expressed in seven statements that revolve around the belief in an immanent godhead, the goal of rational truth, Satan as a revered being, the relativity of good and evil, embracing death as a natural and beautiful part of life, and a three-part “key to truth” consisting of understanding, love, and the will to do right. The fraternity is selective in admitting new members, but once a person is admitted membership is free. There are three main individuals identified as contact persons and authors on the website of the organisation, and presumably membership is rather small at this early stage of the fraternity’s existence.

The Rune-Gild in Finland

The Rune-Gild, a Radical Traditionalist group founded in Texas in 1980 by Edred Thorsson (pen name of Stephen Flowers, b. 1953), had a presence in Finland from 1999 until the late 2000s. While no more than a few individuals were involved, the Gild was part of the Finnish occult milieu through Ensio Kataja’s book Riimujen viisaus (The Wisdom of the Runes, 2005). Kataja

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identifies the Gild as an initiatory school focused on the Germanic tradition, and as a reviver of the tradition of ancient rune masters. He further defines ‘initiation into the secret of the runes’ as the development of one’s conscious Self through Rune-work (Kataja 2005: 9–10). This implies techniques in which magicians focus on the runes in a meditative fashion and in this way unlock the potential of the runes within themselves. The idea is that the runes represent aspects of our consciousness, and a full understanding of them therefore equals a more conscious Self (ibid., 89–90). The practice of the Gild centres on a series of exercises called “The Nine Doors of Midgard” (Thorson 2003), a system of initiation where the magician successively gains increased proficiency in using the runes for magical purposes. The first two Doors are to be finished in 108 days per door, Doors three and four in 240 days per door, and Doors five through eight in seventy-two days per door. For the last Door initiates are to trust their own judgements as to when the necessary training is finished. After finishing the fourth Door the adept is considered proficient enough in rune work to apply to become a Fellow in the Rune-Gild (seventy-two 89), the midlevel initiatory degree. On the website of the Gild, the rune work is divided into Rune thinking, which involves meditation and contemplation, divination in the form of Rune casting, galdor, a ritual technique involving the verbal magical use of the runes, the manufacturing of rune talismans, and, perhaps most importantly, self-transformational Rune-work. Ensio Kataja describes Runework as the ‘internalisation of the runes’ in a way that lets one ‘experience and activate the power of the runes in oneself’ in order to ‘effect change’ in the outer and inner worlds (Kataja 2005: 89–90). As a self-defined Radical Traditionalist group, the Rune-Gild emphasises the importance of preserving the Runic tradition in what is perceived to be an authentic and pure form, and not to mix it with other traditions. Although the historical roots of Radical Traditionalism lie in earlier twentieth-century Guéno­nian Traditionalism, major differences lie the Rune-Gild’s focus on European pre-Christian religion where earlier Traditionalists commonly sought the perennial wisdom outside Europe, and the Gild’s emphasis on meticulous historical research in contrast to earlier Traditionalists’ aversion to historical research methods in their search for universal and ahistorical spiritual truth. However, while claiming to strictly adhere to Germanic traditions the Gild is still fairly innovative in its interpretations. For example, the worlds of Old Norse mythology are interpreted as representations of different aspects of the human psyche (Kataja 2005: 31–35). As the Gild’s founder is a long-time member of the Left-Hand Path group the Temple of Set, it is not surprising that there are some major philosophical

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similarities between the two groups. They both operate with the concepts of objec­tive and subjective universes, regard their respective deities as exemplary initiators rather than gods to worship, and pursue ultimate autonomy and selfdeification (Kataja 2005: 20–21, 38). The Rune-Gild is organised in an outer and inner hall. The outer hall consists of members working with the Nine Doors of Midgard exercises under the guidance of the Gild, and is subdivided into the initiatory degrees of Learner, Fellow, and Master. The inner hall consists of members who are particularly knowledgeable in runes, and is divided into the degrees of Drighten and Erulian. Edred Thorsson, who has led the Gild since its conception, is called the Yrmin-Drighten.

References

Granholm, Kennet, “‘Worshiping the Devil in the Name of God’. Anti-Semitism, Theo­ sophy and Christianity in the Occult Doctrines of Pekka Siitoin”, Journal for the Academic Study of Magic 5 (2009), 256–286. ——— . “The Rune-Gild: Heathenism, Traditionalism, and the Left-Hand Path”, International Journal for the Study of New Religions 1:1 (2010), 95–115. Heino, Harri, Mihin Suomi tänään uskoo, Helsinki: WSOY, 1997. Kalliala, Mari, “Traditions of the Radical Right in Finnish Political Culture”, in: Kyösti Pekonen (ed.), The New Radical Right in Finland, Jyväskylä: The Finnish Political Science Association, 1999, 61–83. ———. “Pekka Siitoin – A Representative of the Cultic Milieu”, in: Kyösti Pekonen (ed.), The New Radical Right in Finland, Jyväskylä: The Finnish Political Science Association, 1999, 87–113. Kassinen, Aino, Sierskan, Täby: Larson, 1972. Kataja, Ensio, Riimujen viisaus, Helsinki: Athanaton, 2005. Needleman, Jacob, “G.I. Gurdjieff and His School”, in: Antoine Faivre and Jacob Needle­ man (eds.), Modern Esoteric Spirituality, London: SCM Press, 1993, 359–380. ———. “Gurdjieff Tradition”, in: Wouter J. Hanegraaff, et al. (eds.), Dictionary of Gnosis & Western Esotericism, Leiden: Brill, 2005, 450–454. Nordling, Iiro, and Olavi Koskela, Suomen Fuhrer. Valtakunnanjohtaja Pekka Siitoin, Tam­ pere: self published, 2006. Shedd, Jonathan, Ufot, uskonto ja paholainen, Turku: Turun hengentieteellinen seura, 1974. Siitoin, Pekka, Svart magi. Del I. Åbo: Pegasos-Club, 1985 (1974/5). Sohlberg, Jussi, “The Esoteric Milieu in Finland Today”, Scripta Instituti Donneriani Aboensis 20 (2008), 204–216.

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Thorsson, Edred, The Nine Doors of Midgard: A Curriculum of Rune-Work. Smithville, TX: Rûna-Raven Press, 2003. Vil, Ike, “Suomentajan jälkisanat. Ex boreus lux” (postscript by translator), in: Gary V. Lachman, Tajunnan alkemistit. Kuusikymmentäluvun mystiikkaa ja vesimiehen ajan pimeä puoli, Helsinki: Like kustannus, 2003, 380–395.

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Chapter 42  Uldal and Winje

Occultism in Norway Geir Uldal and Geir Winje 1 In Norway, as in other Western countries, the number of magic-occult groups and practitioners has increased over the last thirty to forty years. The magical work in these milieus involves performing rituals in order to restructure and change oneself, and through this change potentially influence one’s surroundings. Norwegian practitioners work as members of magical groups and on a more individual basis. Many see themselves as belonging to a global movement, rather than a merely Norwegian one, and some have found teachers in countries such as Brazil, USA, France, and Switzerland. Various forms of ritual magic derived from rather distinct contexts are combined and integrated in many ways. The practitioners often belong to more than one group, and they often wander from one milieu to another. Diverse practices and concepts are in a constant state of flux. Ordo Templi Orientis (OTO) has the largest membership and is clearly the most influential magic-occult group in Norway. It has about 100 members, but many more followers, and operates a website (). Because of the influence of Aleister Crowley (1875–1947), the Norwegian OTO understands itself as a thelemic order. The order is often misunderstood, since references to it often focus on sexual magic and other sensationalist activities, even if this is not a part of any of the initiation rites. After Crowley’s death, many people continued the work of OTO in different parts of the world. Some presented themselves as Crowley’s heirs, with varying degrees of success. Over the years a lot of groups have claimed to be the authentic OTO; among them is an originally American branch which was headed by Grady McMurtry or Hymenæus Alpha 777 (1918–1985). This branch has often been referred to as Caliphate OTO, and this is the group we find in Norway. A so-called Typhonian branch was developed by Kenneth Grant (1924–2011), who for a short period was Crowley’s secretary. This was originally an English branch, which, compared to the Caliphate OTO, was characterised by a lack of rituals of initiation. It has later seemed more interested in innovation and the development of new rituals, pantheons and the like. Even if the * We wish to thank Harald Andreas Lie, Cathrine Brandt, Nicholaj de Mattos Frisvold and other informants for their helpful suggestions.

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Typhonian Order (previously known as the Typhonian OTO) has no formal status in Norway, it represents – as we shall see – a creative force in the magic-occult environment. Besides the organisations set up by McMurtry and Grant, there is also a Haitian-inspired branch, Ordo Templis Orientis Antiqua (OTOA), where elements from Vodun are combined with the remaining elements. This branch is also represented in Norway. Besides these three branches of the OTO, contemporary Norwegian occult groups are strongly influenced by a wide variety of lodges, orders, and magical milieus. In this chapter we will take a closer look at the OTO in Norway before we present some of the more important non-Caliphate OTO magic-occult groups. However, let us firstly cast a short glance backwards in time.

The Magical Revival og the 1890s

The Norwegian painter Edvard Munch (1863–1944) is often mentioned in connection with the so-called magical revival at the end of the nineteenth century. In the early 1890s he spent some years in Berlin, where he, together with artists such as the Swedish dramatist August Strindberg (1849–1912) and the Polish writer Stanislaw Przybyszewski (1868–1927), occupied himself with studies in the occult and paranormal. According to some secondary sources, he was a member of The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn (HOGD), but no primary sources known to us mention this. What is mentioned is an interest in monism and crystallography (Næss 2004). We also know that Munch was inspired by older occult works, for instance Michael Maier’s Atalanta Fugiens (1617, Berman 2006). However, we know very little about other influences. Whatever happened, the suggested connection between Edvard Munch and the HOGD is a good example of how cultural life in Norway, as in other Western countries, was influenced by the magical revival at the time (Vindheim 1990). But while Spiritualism, Theosophy and other trends led to the establishment of various organisations, we do not know of any Norwegian organisation for ritual magic. Among students in Oslo there was, however, an attempt to establish a temple around the end of the nineteenth century. This was inspired by the Ahathoor Temple in Paris, but was probably never realised. We may assume that some Norwegians, individually or as members of groups outside Norway, did practise ritual magic during the first part of the twentieth century, but we have no record of any organised activity before 1982, when the OTO established itself in Bergen.

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The OTO

In 1982 Soror Lola D. Wolfe came from the United States to visit Germany and Norway. Some practitioners were initiated into the OTO, and in that year Hugin & Munin, named after Odin’s ravens, was founded as the first Norwegian camp. In 1983 the Caliph or Outer Head of the Order (OHO), Hymenæus Alpha 777, came to Europe. He visited Germany, Yugoslavia, and Norway, and some Norwegians were initiated to the first degree. According to the pamphlet OTO Hugin & Munin Lodge. 10th Anniversary Celebrations 1992 EV, the first post-war European Gnostic Mass was celebrated in Bergen in 1984. These events established Norway, together with England and Switzerland, as an important European centre for the OTO. It also meant that it was the OTO that defined both the ideas and the practices of ritual magic in Norway. Many of the early members later became influential in other milieus, such as Wicca and Asatru. When McMurtry died in 1985, William Breeze (b. 1955), under his magical name Hymenæus Beta, succeeded as OHO. In Germany some Norwegian participants were initiated into the third degree, and thus gained the right to initiate others. Among them was Frater Evmaios, who since then has been a key figure in the Norwegian milieu. In 1986 Frater Thanatos moved to England, but the Norwegian OTO groups continued to grow. That year Nidhvg Camp was founded in Oslo (Nidhvg or Nidhogg [“tearer of corpses”] is in Old Norse mythology a monstrous serpent that gnaws perpetually at the deepest root of Yggdrasil, the World Tree that grows between the worlds of gods and men). In the same year, Yggdrasil Camp was founded in the southern Norwegian town of Tvedestrand, and Hugin & Munin edited a collection of poems written by Hymenæus Alpha 777. In 1989 Liber AL vel Legis (The Book of the Law) was translated into Norwegian and published by the Swedish publisher Psychick Release. Other OTO bodies were established and dissolved during the 1990s, namely Yr Camp and Balt Oasis, both in Oslo. Today (2014) there are lodges in Oslo, Bergen and Trondheim, and camps in Stavanger and Mo i Rana. Their activities vary: there are study groups, initiations are arranged and the Gnostic Mass is performed. During the 1990s camps were also founded in Denmark and Sweden, and in 1992 Freya Rose Croix Kapittel, a Rosicrucian Chapter, was established for members who had attained the fifth degree. It was at first a Scandinavian Chapter under Norwegian leadership, but is now a national chapter. OTO Norway includes a “family” of groups and milieus, such as Mysteria Mystica Maxima or M∴M∴M∴. This was originally the name of the English branch of the OTO, administered by Aleister Crowley himself. In the

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Norwegian context, M∴M∴M∴ denotes the seven lowest degrees of the OTO, which are administered by the Norwegian organisation. The first degrees symbolise attraction, birth, exaltation, and destruction, and the degrees from the fifth degree and onwards may, according to Crowley, be understood as commentaries on the mysteries of life, and corresponding to the needs of knowing oneself and realising one’s own will. M∴M∴M∴ offers education and fellowship for studies, but also initiations. As in traditional Freemasonry, the initiation rituals are kept secret for pedagogical reasons. There is a charge (not more than 1,000 Norwegian kroner), which varies according to the degree into which one is to be initiated. While M∴M∴M∴ may be considered as integrated in the OTO structure, the A∴A∴ is a more independent group. Although it was founded by Crowley as a continuation of the Golden Dawn, the two orders are actually not connected. It is often referred to as Argentum Astrum or the Order of the Silver Star. There is no membership list, but A∴A∴ has some Norwegian members. They mainly work with ceremonial magic, usually alone or with one other individual, namely the teacher who has initiated him or the person who he himself has initiated and teaches. A fourth group in the Norwegian OTO milieu is the Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica or EGC. According to the Norwegian OTO website, EGC is open for all who are baptised, and baptism is open for anyone who is at least eleven years old. The church celebrates rites of passage and the Gnostic Mass, which is an official ritual in the OTO. It is performed by a priest, a priestess, a deacon, and “the people”, and consists of various rituals and symbols, many of a magical character. The final words before the blessing are: ‘There is no part of me that is not of the Gods’ (Liber XV: VIII). The Gnostic Mass can be traced back to Theodor Reuss (1855–1923), who received a charter for Église Gnostique, founded by Jules-Benoît (1842–1902), and developed it further by integrating the Gnostic Mass (Liber XV), written in 1913 by Aleister Crowley, who besides is referred to as Prophet. The members of OTO may, like members in other occult orders, also perform rituals on a more individual level. These rituals are often magical in nature, e.g., the so-called Theurgia Goetia Summa, which is taken from Crow­ ley’s Liber Samekh (Liber DCCC). This is a kind of theurgy, concerned with establishing contact with one’s Holy Guardian Angel. Other examples are the Star Ruby ritual, also written by Crowley, and the invocation of the Goetia demons, a group of seventy-two demons described in a grimoire from the seventeenth century, The Lesser Key of Solomon (Lemegeton Clavicula Solomonis), which was published by Crowley in 1904. Furthermore, Enochian magic and different kinds of sigil magic are performed.

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Common to the whole OTO corpus is a strong criticism of the doctrines of Christianity. The information pamphlet Ordo Templi Orientis Norge (2003: 27) declares: ‘In the whole system we emphasise the Christian doctrines of original sin and vicarious atonement as the main enemy of the Order’ (translation by the authors).

Other Magic-Occult Groups

For many occult groups it is important to have a lineage, a list of persons who have succeeded one another through formal initiation. This may be understood as a way of establishing and ensuring authority and authenticity. Outside the OTO system, many groups give little or no heed to any established lineages, and instead practise self-initiation. Others combine lines from different traditions in a more or less eclectic way. While some focus on what are presented as age-old, secret, and extremely powerful magical rituals, others are playing and experimenting with magical concepts. And instead of submitting to the authorities of established orders, each person can be or choose his or her own authorities without asking anyone for permission. Since these groups cannot easily be controlled or mapped out, there exists no systematic overview over this part of the occult landscape. A lot of people and groups are active without our knowledge, and some prefer not to be approached. And even if the groups consist of Norwegian citizens, they are in closer contact with related groups in the global network, than they are with other occult groups in Norway. Nevertheless, we will give an outline consisting of some typical examples, based on what we have learned from our informants. We will present some of the impulses that have led to the creation of new occult orders, both abroad and in the Norwegian context, before we conclude this essay with some concrete examples from Norway. Kenneth Grant was the first to bring the Chtulhu Mythos into modern ritual magic. The term refers to a fictional universe involving a group of mysterious, powerful deities, based on the novels of H.P. Lovecraft (1890–1937). The introduction of literary material into occultism exemplifies how figures taken from movies, cartoons, science fiction and so on, can be given mythological, and thereby magical, meaning. This can be interpreted as one of the main threads in the texture of postmodern magic. The fictional and postmodern nature of magic based on the Chtulhu Mythos is, however, often masked by the association of elements in this fantasy universe with more traditional esoteric concepts, such as Goetic Kabbalah and the Tree of Life.

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Chtulhu Mythos magic is also practised inside the Lovecraft-based cult named Esoteric Order of Dagon and the originally Swedish order Dragon Rouge (D.R.). Since its founding in 1989, D.R. has had some influence on Norwegian practitioners, but not many Norwegian members. There exist many editions of Lovecraft’s fictitious Necronomicon, but it is probably only Simon’s Necronomicon (1980) that includes rituals, based on Babylonian magic, that is actually used (Harms/Gonze III 2003). Also among some Satanists, the Cthulhu Mythos may be important, as Anton LaVey’s Satanic Rituals comprise a fully developed ritual in a fictitious Chtulhu language (LaVey 1972). The Chtulhu Mythos has also influenced people such as Michael Bertiaux (b. 1935), who has been important for the OTOA in recent years. He combines elements from traditional OTO doctrines and rituals with elements from Lovecraft’s work, Vodun, ufology, Christianity, Shinto, and Jungianism. Linked ideologically to OTOA is La Couleuvre Noire (LCN or “The Black Snake”), that has exerted a significant influence on the Gnostic Vodun of the OTOA. Both the OTOA and the LCN were established in Norway in 1995 by Nicholaj de Mattos Frisvold (b. 1970), who for a period was European Grand Master of the OTOA. He is highly influential, both in the Norwegian and the international occult milieus, and has published several academic studies on witchcraft in both Western and other traditions, e.g., Vodun and spirits in Brazilian Umbanda religion. Due to conflicts between Frisvold and Courtney Willis, the current head of both OTOA and LCN, the Norwegian branch of the OTOA has since 2000 continued to operate under another name, and under the leadership of Cathrine Brandt (b. 1974). She has been an important practitioner in these groups, as well as a main figure in other environments, i.e., as a worshipper of Melek Taus (the peacock-angel of the Kurdish Yazidi religion), as leader of the house Tara Kurukulla under AMOOKOS (see below), and as bishop in TEGA (see below). The Chtulhu Mythos also plays a role in modern or postmodern chaos magic, as it is developed in The Illuminates of Thanateros (IOT). The order has no Norwegian branch, even if some individual initiations have taken place. However, ideas and practices from chaos magic are to a great extent shared on the Internet, and is therefore a growing influence on Norwegian magic-occult groups. As far as it is practised in the IOT, chaos magic seems to be inspired by both the Typhonian Order and Bertiaux’s OTOA. As we have seen, the inspiration from Vodun and other Afro-American traditions is quite strong in many Norwegian milieus. Several Norwegians have visited Brazil and other Latin American countries for inspiration or initiation.

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There are also some smaller organised Santeria groups, inspired by Cuban spirituality. Besides these impulses and the impact from Lovecraft’s fiction and chaos magic, influences from more traditional kabbalistic magic can also be found in the diversity of magic-occult oriented groups in Norway. Here we refer to the lesser banishing pentagram ritual, which is often used for cleaning a circle. We can also point out that different forms of sexual magic are treated in a number of books that circulate in the magic-occult environment. This brings us to The Arcane Magical Order of the Knights of Shambala (AMOOKOS), a tantric group that incorporates elements from Western magic. Its lineage is traced back to the legendary founders Matsyendranath and Gorakhnath (ninth to eleventh century), close to the historical origin of Indian tantrism. Their principle, svecchachara, is translated as ‘The Way of One’s Own Will’ and is understood as having a lot in common with Crowley’s thelema, or more precisely, how True Will is perceived as similar to the Sanskrit concept of dharma. Moreover, the founder, Mike Magee (b. 1949), has his background in the Typhonian Order. He received the parampara (succession) of the nath sampradaya (the Navnath initiatory tradition) from Shri Dadaji Mahendra Nath. Although the work and philosophy of AMOOKOS does not exclusively draw on this transmission, the diksha (initiation) into the nath sampradaya is the initiation given. Self-initiation is accepted, but not encouraged. Each member chooses when he or she will work with a higher degree. One of its influential members in Norway has been Toyah S. Thorstensen (b. 1970), who was also one of the founders of Yr Camp (see above). A group called Lila Aropa was founded in Oslo in 1991, ‘oriented in the direction of cataclysmic and erotic awakening to reality’ (translated from Lie 2004). In the mid-1990s it was renamed Vajra Yama Zonule. The group remained active until 2005, with Frisvold and Harald Lie (b. 1973) as influential members. As in many other occultist contexts, most of the practitioners in AMOOKOS understand the different features of the occult traditions as equal, and see diversity as a resource, so they participate in more than one group. There are also creative individuals and orders that combine rather different traditions. Here we will use Harald Lie as an example. He was initiated in the Balt Oasis (OTO, see above) in 1995, but soon began crossing the lines between different milieus. Together with Cathrine Brandt (see above) he was also responsible for the Al Aswan Coven for some years, after they both received a triple initiation into druidism, Alexandrine Wicca, and Strega. As mentioned above, Lie has been active in AMOOKOS, and in 2006 he participated in the formation of the Agni Vajra Yama Grand Lodge, a group that carries on the work of the defunct Vajra Yama Zonule by supplying training, giving diksha and celebrating the four traditional pujas or festivals of the year.

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The parampara of the nath sampradaya is given in two instalments: The first (guru of naths) gives the power and authority to give diksha, the second (guru of gurus) gives the power and authority to give parampara. Lie holds both levels, and is also initiated into a traditional house of Haitian Vodun, as a Houngan Asogwe (male high priest). Furthermore, he is an initiated Babalawo (a kind of priest) of the Yoruba Ifa religion, he has received initiations into Fa, a religious divination system in Benin, and into several Orisha cults. In this connection we will also mention Torill Adde (b. 1970), who works in the same field and is initiated in several African and Haitian lines, as well as Sufi lines (see below). In 2004 Lie founded the Vajra Ordo Templi Orientis (VOTO). It was rooted in his initiation to parampara and the reception of eight independent lineages of OTO, including Reuss, Crowley, and the major post-Crowley lineages. The order also presides over several other lineages, including the Kapalika lineage of Matsyananda Jagrthii Madhyamik Tantrik Pracaraka Sangha, the Fraternitas Rosicruciana Antiqua (FRA) and the Thelemic Gnostic Church (TGC). In the context of VOTO this church collects the lines of Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica (EGC, see above) and Ecclesia Gnostica Apostolica (EGA). The EGA is a church outside the OTO system that also celebrates Gnostic Masses in Norway. In contrast to the EGC it claims apostolic succession in a direct line back to Saint Peter. It was brought to Norway by Runar Karlsen (b. 1965), who was also active in the FRA at the end of the 1990s. Karlsen also founded Balt Oasis (see above), named after the Enochian god of righteousness, and is by many respected as an innovative and influential force in the Norwegian OTO milieus. In addition, he is an international authority on the field of Enochian magic (Asprem 2012). In the VOTO, Lie has worked closely with both Frisvold and Jan Ekker (b. 1973). The teachings of the group are heavily influenced by the philosophy of the Bon Siddha tradition (bon is a Tibetan shamanistic religion, while siddha refers to an initiatory kind of yoga, with spiritual self-realisation as a goal). Due to threats of legal action from the more established OTO, the name of the order was in 2008 changed to Kapalik rDorje Ordo Magica (KROM). In 2012 Lie received Uttara Kaula, a Northern tantric lineage. KROM exemplifies one of several ways in which late modern initiatory occultism can combine a variety of different traditions; other orders or groups will have their own ways of drawing on other traditions. According to the KROM Manifesto the order offers the eight independent lineages of the OTO and the other lines mentioned above in connection with the VOTO. Besides it initiates in the A∴A∴ (see above), the Rite of MemphisMisraim and three Sufi Tariqahs or orders: The Lebanese Tariqah Marabout Khidir, a Morrocan Maraboutic Tariqah, and the Persian Naqshbandi Tariqah. The base and centre of the order is the lineage of the nath sampradaya, ‘as it is

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incarnated in, and bestowed by the AMOOKOS’ (KROM Manifesto: 2). The manifesto also says that under the protection and guidance of the Nath-tradition ‘lie the secret teachings of the IX. and the XI. Degree [i.e., of the OTO] (…) All these lineages and traditions together form the body of KROM. The purpose of this order is to facilitate the true development of the Candidate both on a spiritual, psychic and material level, with focus on the responsible growth in magickal power and spiritual abilities as the entire esoteric structure of KROM makes manifest the tantrik fire and true understanding of the Svecchachara-principle’ (ibid.). In the Norwegian occult milieu, magic-occult groups such as these continually arise, decline and merge. Another example is the Choronzon Club (C.C.), founded by Cecil Frederick Russell (1897–1987) in 1928. In Norway there has been and perhaps still is a small C.C. group, but it is difficult to get information about the number of initiates, degrees, and so forth. C.C. is inspired by the higher degrees of OTO. Worth mentioning is also Thee Temple ov Psychick Youth (ToPY). It was established in Norway in the end of the 1980s by Erik Wegge and others, and was active until the end of the 1990s, when Wegge left for Peru. ToPY mainly focused on different forms of mind-expanding work, inspired by, among others, the British artist and occultist Austin Osman Spare (1886–1956) and the rock group Psychic TV, founded by Genesis P-Orridge (b. 1950) in 1981. Finally, we will mention The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn (HOGD), probably the largest Hermetic magical group in Norway outside the OTOinspired milieus. While it has been claimed that the HOGD is extinct, a Norwegian branch of about thirty members continues to operate under the name Sodalitas Rosae Crucis (SRC). It was officially opened on the vernal equinox of year 2000; the Norwegian temple was, at that time, under the patronage of the Stockholm temple. Due to reorganisations within the Swedish HOGD, the leaders of the Oslo and Stockholm temples later founded the SRC. It practises the initiations of the HOGD and offers its members tutelage in ritual magic. Apart from the SRC there are also members of other orders in Norway that (claim to) originate from the HOGD, such as the Builders of the Adytum (BOTA), the Servants of the Light (SOL) and Argentum Astrum (A∴A∴, see above). None of these orders has any official temples in Norway and their members work as solitary practitioners or with members in other countries. There are also smaller groups, which mainly publish material from the golden age of the HOGD.

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Concluding Remarks

Even if the history of modern occultism in Norway in many ways begins with the magical revival of the 1890s, it may also be said to begin with the establishment of the OTO in 1982. This order constitutes a basis and starting point for the development of later magic-occult oriented groups in Norway, including those who expressly distance themselves from the OTO. While ritual magic until recently only could be practised in secrecy in closed groups, it is now less secret than ever. Instead of meeting each other in local temples, many late modern magicians work alone and participate in global networks on the Internet, where ritual texts and instructions are easily accessible. Therefore, various different kinds of initiatory ritual magic are practised, and these are more or less open to eclecticism, experimentation, and the free movement of individuals between different orders or milieus. Practitioners take an eclectic approach, and many question the respect for authority and the appeal to unchangeable tradition that was characteristic of magic-occult groups of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Travel abroad has led to contacts with a variety of more “exotic” traditions, leading to a situation where occultism in Norway is strongly influenced by, e.g., Afro-American religions and tantrism.

References

Asprem, Egil, Arguing with Angels. Enochian Magic and Modern Occulture, Albany: State University of New York Press, 2012. Asprem, Egil and Kennet Granholm (eds.), Contemporary Esotericism, Sheffield: Equinox, 2013. Berman, Patricia G., “Edvard Munch’s ‘Modern Life of the Soul’”, in: Kynaston McShine (ed.), Edvard Munch. The Modern Life of the Soul, New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 2006, 35–51. Bogdan, Henrik and Martin P. Starr (eds.), Aleister Crowley and Western Esotericism, New York: Oxford University Press, 2012. Brage, Frater, OTO Huginn & Muninn Lodge. 10th Anniversary Celebrations 1992 EV, Stockholm, 1992. Crowley, Aleister, The Holy Books of Thelema, York Beach, Maine: Samuel Weiser, 1988. ——— . Magick: Liber Aba: Book 4, York Beach, Maine: Samuel Weiser, 1994. ——— . Liber XV, 1918 [, accessed 18 February 2014].

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Evans, Dave, The History of British Magic after Crowley, Kenneth Grant, Amado Crowley, Chaos Magic, Satanism, Lovecraft, the Left Hand Path, Blasphemy and Magical Morality, Harpenden: Hidden publ., 2007. Grant, Kenneth, The Magical Revival, London: Frederick Muller, 1972. Hanegraaff, Wouter J. et al. (eds.), Dictionary of Gnosis & Western Esotericism, Leiden: Brill, 2006. Harms, Daniel and John Wisdom Gonce III, The Necronomicon Files, York Beach, Maine: Weiser Books, 2003. Kilcher, Andreas B. (ed.), Constructing Tradition: Means and Myths of Transmission in Western Esotericism, Leiden: Brill, 2010. Koenig, Peter-R., The Ordo Templis Orientis Phenomenon, , accessed 20 February 2014]. KROM Manifesto (n.d.). LaVey, Anton S., The Satanic Rituals, New York: Avon, 1972. Lie, Harald Andreas, “AMOOKOS”, in: I Ny og Ne, summer 2004. Næss, Atle, Munch, en biografi, Oslo: Gyldendal, 2004. Ordo Templi Orientis Norge, Informasjonsbrosjyre, Trondheim, 2003. Ordo Templi Orientis Study Guide 1 Degree, Oslo, 1998. Price, Robert M. (ed.), The Necronomicon, Oakland: Chaosium, 1996. Simon, The Necronomicon, New York: Avon, 1980. Uldal, Geir and Geir Winje, Hekser og healere. Religion og spiritualitet i det moderne, Kris­tiansand: Høyskoleforlaget, 2007. Vindheim, Jan Bojer, Vestens mysterier, Oslo: Ex Libris, 1990. Winje, Geir, Fra bønn til magi. Nye religioner og menneskesyn, Kristiansand: Høys­kole­ forlaget, 1999.

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Chapter 43 Occultism in Sweden

Occultism in Sweden Kennet Granholm Sweden is often perceived as one of the most secularised Western societies, and yet the country has a plethora of magic orders and occult groups. The present article is divided into sections dealing with early occultism, groups influenced by the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, neopagan magic, Thelema, black and dark magic orders, and online occultism.

Early Occultism

Sweden has a long history of occultist approaches to esotericism. Emanuel Swedenborg’s (1688–1772) notions of the spiritual worlds are regarded by many scholars as an example of proto-occultism (see the chapter on Sweden­bor­ gianism in Scandinavia). Occultism proper in Sweden saw the light of day with the founding of the first Spiritualist organisation in 1878 (see the chapter on Spiritualism in Sweden), and the establishing of a Swedish section of the Theo­ sophical Society in 1889 (see the chapter on Theosophy in Sweden). Occultist magic was also practised in Sweden in the late nineteenth century. The shortlived (1884–1885) but influential occult order Hermetic Brotherhood of Luxor had a small number of members in Sweden (Bogdan 2008: 320). The Brother­ hood recruited members among Theosophists disillusioned with the Society’s focus on the Orient and advocated practical magical work primarily based on the sexual magic teachings of Paschal Beverly Randolph (1825–1875) (Deveney 1997: 7; Deveney 2005). The Martinist Order was another practice-focused order active in Sweden in the late nineteenth century (Bogdan 2008: 320; see Introvigne 2005: 780–783 for general information on Martinism). The order was founded in 1891 by French occultists Gérard Encausse (1865–1916, also known as Papus) and Augustin Chaboseau (1868–1946), based on the teachings of Louis Claude de Saint-Martin (1743–1803), Martinès de Pasqually (1727?–1774), and Jean-Baptiste Willermoz (1730–1824). After the death of Papus, schisms occurred within the movement, and consequently several different Martinist orders exist today. The webpage of the Martinist Order of the Netherlands provides information on a group established in Sweden. However, the website does not appear to © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_045

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have been updated since the early 2000s. The Martinist order Ordre Reaux Croix was formed in 2002 and is active in Norway and Sweden. Ordre Reaux Croix seeks to ‘mend the wounds that Man brought upon himself after falling from grace’, and works with Christian and kabbalistic symbolism. The two separate branches, Voie Cardiaque and Elus Cohens have different initiatory structures and practice. The Ancient and Mystical Order Rosae Crucis (AMORC), founded by H. Spencer Lewis in 1915, is possibly the largest and most influential order to arise out of the Martinist movement, and has a number of members in Sweden.

The Golden Dawn Tradition

There exist several orders claiming to be the legitimate successors of the original Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, many of which are in conflict with each other. The Golden Dawn is active in Sweden as the Rosicrucian Order of Alpha+Omega, which regards itself as the inner order of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. The first temple of the order, the Isis-Nut Temple, was founded in Stockholm, Sweden, in 1994, by David Griffin (b. 1955). Griffin’s European-based Golden Dawn was for many years in conflict with Chic Cicero’s primarily North American based Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, inc., and Griffin claims ownership of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn trademark in the European Union, and the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn International trademark in Canada since 2007. In addition to physical temples, the order also provides the Harparkrat Cyber-Temple (opened in 2002) for members who do not have a regular temple in their immediate vicinity. It is possible for a member to do the work for the grades at distance, but the initiations will have to take place in a physical temple (e-mail message to author 31 January 2007). The order maintains an online discussion forum with almost 6,000 subscribers. As this is a public forum, one cannot assume that the number or subscribers to the forum corresponds to any actual membership. The Rosicrucian Order of Alpha+Omega functions as part of a confederation of independent Golden Dawn temples, that professes to be a genuine successor to the original nineteenth-century Golden Dawn. In the proclamation “Reformatio Fraternitatis of 1999” the order states that all of the published rituals and practices of the Golden Dawn will be performed in the outer order,

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whereas the inner order works with secret material consisting of Rosicrucian, magic, and alchemical sources (Alpha+Omega, Types of Esoteric Orders and the 1999 Reformation of the Rosicrucian Order of A+O. [The Second Order (RR+AA) Curriculum, Rosicrucian Order of Alpha+Omega, 2007]. Sodalitas Rosae Crucis & Solis Alati (SRC & SA) is an organisation founded in Scandinavia in 2002, basing its work on the Golden Dawn tradition and supplementing this with Gnosticism, Christian Theurgy, and Alchemical working. The main centres of the organisation are located in Stockholm and Oslo. Members, temples, and affiliated sister temples are said to exist in other parts of Europe as well as in North and South America. Contacts are maintained with leaders of esoteric groups around the world, with SRC & SA being one of the initiators of the global “Western Mysteries Conference” held in USA in September 2006 (Frater AVIAF, e-mail message to author, 13 January 2007; SRC, Sodalitas Rosae Crucis & Solis Alati, informational document, 2007). The organisation actually consists of two orders, corresponding to the two first orders of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. The aim of the first order, Sodalitas Rosae Crucis, is to lead adepts into contact with their Holy Guardian Angel. Contact with the Holy Guardian Angel makes the adept ready for the second order, Solis Alati, which involves alchemical workings of a selfdevelopmental character. The bylaws of SRC & SA state that the purpose of the order is to lead members to transcend the limitations of matter, to rediscover their spiritual origin, and to become more than human. Kabbalah, Gnosticism, Christian mysticism, Hermetism, and Alchemy are studied in their mystical, magical, and intellectual aspects (SRC, Sodalitas Rosae Crucis & Solis Alati, informational document, 2007). A candidate for membership is required to send in an application form, and then meet with two members of the order. Based on a report on some personal work scheduled by the order, the applicant is either initiated into the order or dismissed. In order to advance in the grades, members’ requests for initiation must be accepted by the order, and they will then have to undergo an examination where their skills and knowledge are assessed. Members are also required to partake in the meetings of the order, which regularly take place twice a month, and to report on their personal work. SRC & SA professes an interest in Martinism, but does not provide training in this tradition. For this purpose, the order recommends getting in touch with Ordre Reaux Croix, with which SRC & SA collaborates. The Servants of the Light is another occult order with teachings based on the Golden Dawn tradition that, while not having any lodges in Sweden, claims to

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arrange workshops in esoteric subjects in the country. The order was founded in 1972 by Walter Ernest Butler (1898–1978), who received his training in Dion Fortune’s (Violet Mary Firth, 1890–1946) Society of Inner Light.

Magic and Neopaganism

Svenska Misraimförbundet (Societas Misraim), formed as Merlinorden (Ordo Merlini & Rosae Crucis) on 8 April 1988 by Mikael W. Gejel, Mikael Hedlund, and Karin Norberg, and adopting its current name in the summer of 2007, is with its approximately 200 members (in 2007) the most significant magical group with neopagan influences in Sweden. The organisation identifies itself as a Rosicrucian order, and is organised in three layers. In Merlinorden the focus in the first layer was on Druidic, i.e., Celtic, and Drott, i.e., Germanic, shamanism, as well as on Hermeticism. Whether this is still the case with the renamed order is unknown. In the two subsequent layers the focus is on the Rite of Misraim, in the tradition of Rudolf Steiner. Through the years Merlin­ orden has been granted charters to initiate and work with different iterations of the rite (M. Gejel, e-mail message to author, 15 February 2007). The order is led by a council consisting of members who have attained at least the third degree of the Rite of Misraim, and has lodges in Stockholm, Gothenburg, and Ödeshög (in Southern Sweden, near the eastern shore of lake Vättern). Gejel and Hedlund have been influential in the Swedish pagan and neo-shamanic movements (Lindqvist 1997), and the neo-shamanic organisation Yggdrasilgillet operates as part of Svenska Misraimförbundet.

Thelema

The Swedish branch of the OTO was founded in 1990. Before that, Swedish members had been initiated abroad. From its initial centre in Stock­holm, the Swedish OTO has grown to include groups in Gothenburg, Stock­holm, and Malmö. Groups have also been active in Lund, Roslagen, Uppsala, and Växjö but these were at the time of writing closed down. Besides arranging national meetings, the Swedish branch of the order has hosted international gatherings. Aleister Crowley’s Book of the Law, the holy scripture of Thelema, was translated into Swedish in 1992 (Frater Oculus, e-mail message to author, 13 January 2007), and a new translation was released in 2014. When at its largest, the order had around 150 members in Sweden. In recent years membership numbers have decreased somewhat. Some of the Swedish

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OTO groups arrange meetings and study groups, whereas others mainly perform initiations and the Gnostic Mass. The Swedish OTO maintains no official contacts with other organisations, but is actively in contact and co-operation with other OTO bodies around the world (Frater Oculus, e-mail message to author, 13 January 2007).

Dark/Black Magic

Dragon Rouge (Ordo Draconis et Atri Adamantis) was founded in Stockholm, Sweden, on the eve of New Year 1990, by the then 17-year old Thomas Karlsson. Karlsson had spent his teenage years exploring the occult and immersing himself in the alternative spiritual subculture of Stockholm. He felt the lack of a practice-based dark magic order, and therefore founded Dragon Rouge. The order was quickly noticed in the alternative spiritual milieu, and not always in positive terms (Bjarke 1991). In the mid-1990s the order caught the attention of the Swedish news media, and Dragon Rouge was given coverage, again in a rather pejorative fashion. The coverage did, however, attract a large number of new members to the order, necessitating an organisational restructuring in which the administration of the order was rationalised (Granholm 2014). Dragon Rouge is organised as a mother order located in Stockholm and regional lodges, temple groups, and ritual groups. In late 2013 the order had four active lodges (three in Sweden and one in Italy), three temple groups (Finland, Athens, and Liverpool), and one ritual group (in Brazil). Earlier groups and lodges have existed in several cities in Sweden and in Germany, Poland, the Czech Republic, Argentina, and Mexico. In the 2000s the membership of the order has fluctuated between 300 and 500, with more than a third located outside Sweden (Granholm 2014). The order is governed by an inner circle, consisting of long-time members who are responsible for formulating the ideology and administrating the order. The inner circle is dynamic in character, in that it involves those people who are concerned by the issues treated. However, as Stockholm is the location of the mother order and those members who have been affiliated for the longest period of time, the inner circle generally draws on people active there. Dragon Rouge is a Left-Hand Path magic order, which in this context signifies that the ultimate aim is the (symbolic or actual) self-deification of the practitioner. The order operates with the dichotomies of Chaos and Cosmos. Chaos, which is the focus of the Dragon Rouge magician, is understood as the sphere of un-manifest potential, and as a source of power that the magician can tap into. Through utilising the destructive powers of Chaos, magicians can

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tear down obstacles and restrictions in their lives, in order to recreate the foundations of their existence. The form of magic practised in Dragon Rouge is called Dark Magic, by which is meant the exploration of hidden aspects of the Self and existence (Granholm 2014). Dragon Rouge is strongly eclectic in character, and the themes treated during its meetings are derived from a vast array of sources, with Old Norse mythology, Tantrism, and European occultist magic being particularly prominent (Granholm 2014). Dragon Rouge’s initiatory system of the order is based on the eleven Qlipho­ thic spheres of Kabbalah, with the degrees named after the different spheres. The Qliphoth are the shadow-side of the Sephirothic Tree of Life, in Dragon Rouge identified as the Tree of Knowledge (Karlsson 2004: 70). When becoming a member, one has the possibility to partake in correspondence courses in magic, which lead to initiation in the degree system. The order is arranged in three primary levels. Level one consists of those members who have not yet been initiated into the first degree, while level two consists of those initiated in degrees 1.0 and 2.0. Upon initiation into degree 3.0 the member swears the Dragon Oath and is initiated into the Dragon Order, the third organisational level and the inner order of Dragon Rouge (Granholm 2014). Another important group in the Left-Hand Path milieu, the Temple of Set, is discussed in the article Satanism in Sweden in the present volume.

Occultism on the Web

The Swedish magic and occult milieu is quite active on the Internet. Beside the web pages of different magic orders, there exist a considerable number of websites devoted to different aspects of occultism and magic. The website Paranormal Sweden (paranormal.se) was created by Jonas Liljegren and is intended to function as an encyclopedia of the paranormal. The website contains articles on diverse paranormal subjects, including magic and the occult. The administrators of the website describe Paranormal Sweden as ‘a collective of beings who want to advance their knowledge of paranormal phenomena’. The website discusses terminology relevant to the study of the paranormal, reports on experiments and theories on the paranormal, and describes various theories on the paranormal. The contributors of Paranormal.se are thus not interested in the paranormal in a purely academic sense, and in an article by Liljegren the practical application of occult ideas is discussed. Sentinels, twenty-four in number, work with the contents of the site to which almost 4,000 members have contributed. In order to become a member, one simply has to register on the site, and contribute material at some point.

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No specific level of activity is required in order to become a member. Members are considered “citizens” of the Paranormal Sweden collective, and have the right to search the members’ register in order to contact other “citizens”. The website is free and open to the public. The content on the website includes articles on subjects such as black magic, astral travel, kabbalah and Qliphoth, as well as on occult figures such as A.E. Waite, Aleister Crowley, Anton Szandor Lavey, and Thomas Karlsson.

References

Bjarke, B., “Bärsärken kommenterar”, Gimle. Tidskrift för shamanism, myt och magi 19 (1991), 49. Bogdan, Henrik, “Esoteriska rörelser”, in: Ingvar Svanberg & David Westerlund (eds.), Religion i Sverige, Stockholm: Dialogos, 2008, 315–323. Deveney, J.P., Paschal Beverly Randolph: A Nineteenth-Century Black American Spiritualist, Rosicrucian, and Sex Magician, Albany: State University of New York Press, 1997. Deveney, John Patrick, “The Hermetic Brotherhood of Luxor”, in: Wouter J. Hanegraaff, et al. (eds.), Dictionary of Gnosis & Western Esotericism, Leiden: Brill, 2005, 486–487. Dracontias, nr. 3 – 2008, Stockholm: Dragon Rouge (unpublished members’ paper). Granholm, Kennet, Dark Enlightenment: The Historical, Sociological, and Discursive Contexts of Contemporary Esoteric Magic, Leiden: Brill, 2014. Introvigne, Massimo, “Martinism: Second Period”, in: Wouter J. Hanegraaff, et al. (eds.), Dictionary of Gnosis & Western Esotericism, Leiden: Brill, 2005, 780–783. Karlsson, Thomas, Kabbala, kliffot och den goetiska magin, Sundbyberg: Ouroboros production, 2004. Lindquist, Galina, Shamanic Performances on the Urban Scene: Neo-Shamanism in Contem­porary Sweden, Stockholm: Stockholm University Press, 1997.

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Chapter 44 Paganism in Denmark

Paganism in Denmark Benjamin Weber Pedersen

Charting the Field

The twenty-first century has witnessed a number of interesting developments in the Danish Pagan milieu. On the one hand, these changes reflect general tendencies in Scandinavia, while on the other there are specific local developments, as well. The present chapter describes the most important Pagan milieus in contemporary Denmark, and presents some of the most significant developments that have taken place since the 1980s. Paganism can be described as a contemporary form of polytheistic religiosity, which attempts to revitalise what participants in these milieus see as pre-Christian religions and traditions (Pedersen 2005: 123–124, 133). Paganism is thus an umbrella term that encompasses a plethora of religious groups, united by a strong emphasis on ritual and on the sacralisation of nature. Historically, the emergence of Paganism in Denmark is linked to the socio-cultural changes of the 1960s and 1970s, involving firstly a rejection of a number of establishment values, such as materialism and conventional gender roles, and secondly a strong interest in alternative lifestyles, including new religious or spiritual options (Steno 2012: 116; Pedersen 2005: 124–127). Paganism used to be seen as part of the broader New Age scene (Heelas 1996; York 1995; Hammer 1997), but has in the first decade of the twenty-first century increasingly been perceived as an independent field of scholarly study (Lewis & Pizza 2009). The field of Pagan studies has, however, been critiqued for being dominated by essentialist approaches and by an excessive loyalty to insider understandings of Paganism, and recent scholarship has called for a greater degree of methodological reflection (Davidsen 2012). The recent development of a separate academic field notwithstanding, it can be difficult to draw distinct boundaries between Paganism, New Age, esotericism, and some forms of alternative medicine. In the pages that follow, I have avoided following terminological trends that attempt to distinguish categories such as “world paganism” and “indigenous paganism” or “eclectic” and “reconstructionistic paganism”, since these are at best academic constructions and can in the worst case distort the empirical

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data. All major Pagan currents are in fact heterogeneous entities that can manifest in traditionalist/exclusivist forms, eclectic/inclusivist versions, and any number of intermediate varieties between these two extremes. Instead, I have simply chosen to structure this chapter in a manner that reflects the most basic threefold distinction between Pagan currents in Denmark, namely asatro (a Danish version of Nordic Paganism), neo-shamanism, and witchcraft-related forms. One problematic issue in coming to grips with the Danish Pagan milieu is the fact that there are no major surveys that assess its size. Danish official statistics do not register the religious affiliation of the country’s inhabitants, and the more recent surveys that do exist are limited to studying the asatro milieu, which in 2007 was estimated to consist of roughly 1,000 people (Warmind 2007: 226), and the witchcraft milieu that was estimated to comprise some 500 individuals (Steno 2012: 114). There are no similar surveys of people involved in neo-Shamanism, but my impression is that this milieu is of the same size as the witchcraft milieu. However, the overall porous, fragmented, and inclusivist nature of the Danish Pagan scene makes it extraordinarily difficult to measure. It would, for instance, be quite possible to find a self-declared witch who participates regularly in neo-Shamanic drumming sessions and is an active member of the asatro organisation Forn Siðr. There is thus a significant overlap between the three Pagan currents, and the eclectic nature of Paganism as a whole implies that many contemporary Pagans find it unproblematic to integrate elements from all three major currents and other influences as well in their personal beliefs and religious practices. This is a fundamental feature of Paga­nism that needs to be taken into account in connection with any sociological survey of the Pagan scene. It should, finally, also be noted that the emergence of the Internet as a medium available to a vast proportion of the population has had a tremendous influence on the dissemination of Pagan ideas, and has promoted the foundation of several Pagan organisations. It is nevertheless difficult to assess the degree to which this volatile and complex virtual milieu reflects the degree of Pagan practice in real life. In the first decade of the twenty-first century, there were numerous Pagan on-line fora, but at present (2014) few of these are still active. The Pagan virtual scene in Denmark is today mainly a Facebook-based phenomenon, a format that makes research on Paganism even harder to conduct.

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Asatro

In terms of size and visibility, the local form of Nordic Paganism called asatro is by far the most dominant strand of Paganism in Denmark. Asatro is described as a revitalisation and/or reconstruction of the pre-Christian religion of Vikingage Scandinavia, mainly by using medieval sources such as the Eddas, the saga literature, and so forth. Most Danish practitioners of asatro are aware of constructing a new connection to an old tradition where the historical link has been broken, and the so-called forn sed movement found elsewhere in Scandinavia that professes to carry on an unbroken local folk tradition is practically non-existent in Denmark. The asatro milieu is organised in smaller groups called blót groups (after the Norse name for ritual sacrifice), and larger, national Pagan organisations. The asatro milieu is a more tightly structured phenomenon than the other Pagan currents in Denmark, both in its on-line manifestations and in real life. The first signs of an organised asatro milieu in Denmark can be traced back to the mid- 1980s, with the founding in 1986 of the first self-professed asatro group Odins Hird (Housecarls of Odin) in the Copenhagen district of Amager. In 1988 the group Heimdals Sønner og Døtre (Sons and Daughters of Heimdal) was founded, the first organisation to hold four blót rituals per year. Both of these groups still exist (Pedersen 2005: 140). A first abortive attempt to found a nation-wide asatro community took place in 1993, and was intended to result in an organisation called Asatrúsamfundet (The Asatrú Community), but the project came to nought due to internal schisms over such issues as the risk of ending up as a dogmatic institution (Pedersen 2005: 140). A more successful attempt was the launch of Forn Siðr. Asa- og vanetrosamfundet i Danmark or FS (Forn Siðr, the Society for Asa- and Vane-believers in Denmark; despite its name not to be confused with the forn sed current mentioned above). This organisation was founded in 1997 with the purpose of facilitating contacts between asatro practitioners and striving to make asatro better-known and more widely accepted. From the beginning FS wished that asatro would be respected on an equal footing with other religions, and in 1999 the organisation filed a request with the Danish Ministry of Ecclesiastical Affairs to be accredited as a religious body. Under Danish law, there is religious freedom but not religious equality, and only official accreditation allows a religious organisation certain tax benefits and the right to conduct legally valid marriages. After a period of four years during which the application was reviewed, the FS was – to the great interest of the media – in 2003 finally recognised as an accredited religion. The process came at a cost: the Ministry of

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Ecclesiastical Affairs placed a number of additional demands on the FS if they were to receive the coveted accreditation, and conflicts arose in the ranks of the FS with some members protesting that the organisation had gone too far in its wish to be accepted by the surrounding society (Bøgelund 2008: 44–45). As a consequence, several members left FS. In the wake of this development, two new asatro organisations were found­ed in 2003: Asatrofællesskabet i Danmark (ATFD; The Asatrú Fellowship in Denmark) and Asatrofællesskabet Yggdrasil (ATFY; The Asatrú Fellowship Yggdrasil). ATFD is less centralised than FS and functions as less of a joint body for asatro practitioners: associated blót groups retain their full autonomy as long as they share the basic statutes of the ATFD, and the ATFD has merely administrative functions. In 2006 ATFD applied for accreditation, but the request has at the time of writing not yet been approved. ATFY is an umbrella organisation with one section on Jutland and one on Zealand. The organisation owns a three-acre tract of forest near the town of Silkeborg on Jutland, which is used for asatro-related activities, and they are working on establishing a similar site on Zealand. The fourth nation-wide asatro organisation in Denmark is Nordisk Tings­ fællig (NT; the name is a neologism based on an older, now obsolete Danish word for community), established in 2010. NT has a focus on the veneration of the Nordic deities, and insists that membership in NT commits one to actively taking part in the activities of the organisation. Despite conflicts and the existence of rival organisations, FS is today by far the largest, most visible, and most established asatro community in Denmark. Currently (2014), FS has 635 members. If one compares available figures from 2005 (Warmind 2007: 221), when there were 435 members, one can see that membership has risen by nearly 50%. FS has over the last decade also managed to generate significant public and media interest. One example concerns the raising in 2006 of a modern rune stone commemorating the pioneers of modern asatro, on the occasion of the ninth anniversary of the organisation’s existence. In 2009 the first modern Pagan burial site was inaugurated in Denmark’s third largest city, Odense, as a collaborative effort between the municipality of Odense and FS. The burial site is reserved exclusively for FS members and their relatives. The asatro milieu is dynamic in the sense that new blót groups are quite frequently founded and old groups are disbanded. In 2005 Warmind ­identified twenty-four active blót groups in Denmark (Warmind 2005: 220), while Bøgelund in 2008 counted thirty-five (Bøgelund 2008: 16). The number of members in a

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blót group can vary from two to more than fifty. Among the largest at present are Harreskovens Blótgilde (established in 1996), Aarhus Blótlaug (est. 2000), Solbjerg Blótlaug (est. 2000), and Uias Blótlaug (est. 2001), with more than thirty members each. Most people in the Danish Pagan milieu are vehemently opposed to the right wing and racist form of asatrú found inter alia in the USA (Bøgelund 2008: 28; Pedersen 2005: 138–139; cf. Gardell 2003 on the situation in the USA). Nevertheless, there is a considerable and, in some groups, growing emphasis on ethnic identity also in the Danish milieu (Warmind 2002: 38–40). An example of this is the fact that two Danish members of both the American-based Asatru Folk Assembly (AFA) and of the FS managed to have the AFA hold its first official event outside the USA, in 2013, in the Danish city of Odense. As a result, the group Asatru Folk Assembly Denmark was founded. This is all the more remarkable, given that the AFA has been heavily frowned upon in the Scandinavian Pagan milieu because of the ethnic and nationalist ideology of its main spokesperson Stephen McNallen (b. 1948).

Neo-Shamanism

Contrary to the other Scandinavian countries, where there have been Sami shamanic traditions, Denmark has not in historically recorded times had any indigenous form of shamanism. Nevertheless, there is a considerable interest in shamanism among Danish Pagans. This interest can be seen both in the use of shamanic techniques and concepts within witch covens and blót groups, and in the form of a Pagan current with a distinctive focus on shamanism. The modern shamanic (or neo-shamanic) milieu in Denmark is dominated by practices developed since the 1970s by the American author Michael Harner (b. 1929) as part of what he calls “core shamanism”. Core shamanism presents itself as a gamut of ritual techniques said to constitute a shared core of shamanic traditions from various parts of the globe. The most important of these ritual techniques is the shamanic journey undertaken to the sound of drumming. Harner’s core shamanism represents a considerable innovation compared to the practices of indigenous peoples, in that the shamanic journey is taught as an instrumental technique available to all, and is detached from any specific, local socio-cultural context (cf. Hammer 1997: 102–104; Pade 1999: 380–381; Jakobsen 1999: 158–167).

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In comparison to much else found in the Pagan milieu, neo-shamanism is a fairly commodified activity in that there are courses that one can join for a fee. Introductory-level courses provide instruction in animistic beliefs and ritual methods for establishing contact with a shamanic reality populated by spirit beings. After completing the introductory level, one can progress to courses on topics such as shamanic counselling, soul retrieval, and spiritual ecology. Shamanic techniques are also used as a form of complementary treatment, e.g., in the form of shamanic healing or counselling. These commercial structures are not characteristic of other sectors of the Pagan milieu. The oldest and largest neo-shamanic organisation in Denmark is the Scandinavian Center for Shamanic Studies (SCSS). The SCSS was founded in 1986 by Jonathan Horwitz (b. 1941), who was taught the ritual techniques by Michael Harner, and Anette Høst (b. 1951), who specialises in what she describes as the shamanic and witchcraft traditions of the North. The SCSS functions as a key venue for people interested in learning neo-shamanic techniques, and offers more than twenty different courses in several European countries. Most of the activities take place in Denmark and at the Åsbacka Center for Shamanic Healing in southern Sweden. Besides a wide range of courses, the centre also offers personal sessions for shamanic healing, counselling and retreats, as well as special events, rituals, and lectures (Pedersen 2005: 127, 274–275; Jakobsen 1999: 8–9, 159). The organisation Shamanselskabet Danmark (Shamanic Society Denmark; SSD) was founded in 2007, and at the time of writing has three teachers of shamanism, including Svend Pedersen (b. 1947), who previously ran the now defunct Foundation for Shamanic Studies Denmark (cf. Pedersen 2005: 264– 265). SSD was inspired by Siberian shamanic practices, and presents its aims as providing a community where modern shamanism can be developed in a form that fits the surrounding society without trivialising the contents. SSD was founded after a critical appraisal of the existing market for shamanic courses and their relations to alternative and complementary healing practices, and presents itself as a more serious alternative. The organisation offers a six-month introductory course called “Shamanlærling på prøve” (Shamanic apprentice­ship), and once this course has been completed the full shamanic curriculum can be completed in a minimum of five years (as compared to the weekend courses offered by the SCSS). At present (2014) the first attempts are being made to found a shamanic religious community in Denmark. The initiative to do so has been taken by John Russell-Møller (b. 1946), who describes himself as a nature shaman. He

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has had a shamanic practice in Copenhagen since 1992, but offers shamanic treatments and counselling all over Scandinavia, and has led wilderness tours to Lapland. Inspired by similar events in Norway, Russel-Møller has since 2013 worked to establish Shamanistisk Forbund – Danmark (Shamanic Society – Denmark), which he describes as ‘a religious community that attempts to promote a shamanic world view and to ensure the right of individuals and groups to seek and pursue a shamanic practice’. (cf. ). Besides the organisations mentioned above, there are a number of other more or less loosely organised, local drum groups around the country, which regularly arrange shamanic get-togethers centred on shamanic drum journeys and similar activities. Usually, participants are required to have participated in a basic course in shamanism or have an equivalent amount of relevant experience (Pedersen 2005: 275).

Witchcraft and Wicca

Danish witches are part of an extremely diverse milieu, that includes everything from practitioners who primarily use plants for magic and healing, to witches associated with one or another of the many strands of the modern religious tradition of Wicca (Hammer 1997: 114; Steno 2012: 115). Wicca has been around in Scandinavia for the last three decades, and came from Norway to Denmark in the mid-1990s. Some scholars have seen the arrival of wicca as a major impetus for the development of Danish asatro and of the blót ritual (Warmind 2007: 216; Warmind 2002: 40). Most Danish witches are solitary practitioners, but some are organised in smaller groups or covens. Most practitioners are women (Steno 2012: 115). Two of the most important traits distinguishing the witchcraft milieu from other forms of Paganism is its focus on the concept of energy, and its use of magic (Steno 2012: 113). Denmark’s best-known witch is Dannie Druehyld (b. 1947), who already in the 1970s began using the term witch to describe herself. During this period of time she was also a central figure in the feminist movement, and a co-founder of the women’s groups Økofeministerne (Organic Feminists) and Gudindebevægelsen (The Goddess Movement), a group celebrating Mother Earth. Druehyld is today best known for her advocacy and use of herbal remedies, and her role in the climate movement, but she has been a major source of inspiration for the contemporary witches’ milieu in Denmark (Pedersen 2005: 159, 161–162).

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One of the oldest extant covens in Denmark is called Lorjanar, and works with a form of Wicca based on the heritage of Gerald Gardner (1884–1964). The coven was founded in 1997, and has men and women from Denmark as well as Norway as members. The most intensively researched coven in Denmark is Hekselogen Isikaja (HLI; The Isikaja Coven). The coven was founded in Århus in 1999, and saw itself as a spiritual network of contemporary witches that celebrated the primal feminine power. HLI was a very eclectic coven, where members were inspired by topics as diverse as Scandinavian folklore, shamanism, clairvoyance, asatro, and much else. In 2005, HLI split into two covens, one in the city of Århus, and the other in the rural region of Djursland. Both covens later ceased their activities and HLI is now defunct (Pedersen 2005: 158–176; Fibiger 2004: 419–425). The oldest country-wide organisation for witches in Denmark is Cyprianus, Netværk for hekse i Danmark (Cyprianus, Network for Witches in Denmark), which was founded in 2000 with the purpose of functioning as an umbrella organisation for witches in Denmark by, e.g., providing a very active Internet forum, arranging weekend meetings for witches, and (in the period from 2002 to 2006) publishing a magazine, Blade fra Cyprianussen (Pages from the Cypria­ nus). After some very vigorous first years of activity, the organisation now appears to be nearly dormant. In 2013, yet another nation-wide witches’ organisation was founded, simply called Foreningen Hekse (Witches’ Organisation). The organisation describes itself as a meeting point for active practitioners of witchcraft and magic. The organisation intends to publish a members’ magazine twice annually, and to organise yearly witches’ conferences. At the time of writing, these activities were still in the planning stage.

Concluding Remarks

Declaring oneself a Pagan and accepting labels such as asatro (the term denotes both the religion and its adherents), witch or shaman is an active, individual choice, which decisively shapes one’s religious identity. Various Pagan identities of these kinds are united by a desire to reconstruct or recreate the values of ancient cultures, especially their perceived proximity to nature, and to embrace ritual as a way to achieve this goal. The Pagan milieu can in this respect be seen as an alternative to the secular and disenchanted values of contemporary society (Pedersen 2005: 19; Steno 2012: 117–118). It

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is, on the other hand, also a milieu characterised by epistemological individualism (Heelas 1996: 21) rooted in the much more recent heritage of the counterculture and its rejection of traditions and social structures that were perceived as reactionary, stagnant, and counterproductive, as well as its struggle to allow each individual to form his or her own way of life. The main asatro organisation in Denmark, Forn Siðr, expresses this individualism in its hyperinclusivistic creed: ‘No one knows the faces of the gods; we construct an image that resembles ourselves; we see the same, but see differently; no one knows whose vision is the most truthful’. (cf. ).

References

Aziza, Hil Thor, Hil Odin – Asatro 2.0. Mit år med Asatroen, Århus: Abraxas, 2012. Bøgelund, Vinni, “Asatro: Harreskovens Blótgilde”, in: Birgit Andersen, Helle Bertelsen, et al, Senmoderne religiøsitet i Danmark, Viborg: Systime, 2008: 16–51. Davidsen, Markus Altene, “What is Wrong with Pagan Studies?”, Method and Theory in the Study of Religion 24 (2012), 183–199. Fibiger, Marianne C. Qvortrup (ed.), Religiøs mangfoldighed. En kortlægning af religion og spiritualitet i Århus, Gylling: Systime Academic, 2004. Gardell, Mattias, Gods of the Blood: The Pagan Revival and White Separatism, Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2003. Hammer, Olav, På jagt efter helheden. New Age – en ny folketro?, Århus: Forlaget Fremad, 1997. Heelas, Paul, The New Age Movement: The Celebration of the Self and the Sacralization of Modernity, Oxfordshire: Blackwell Publishers, 1996. Jakobsen, Merete Demant, Shamanism: Traditional and Contemporary Approaches to the Mastery of Spirits and Healing, New York and Oxford: Berghahn Books, 1999. Lewis, James R. and Murphy Pizza (eds.), Handbook of Contemporary Paganism, Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2009. Pade, Mikkel, Nye religiøse bevægelser i Danmark, København: Gyldendal, 1999. Pedersen, René Dybdal, I Lysets Tjeneste – nye religiøse og spirituelle grupper i Danmark, Gylling: Forlaget Univers, 2005. Steno, Anne Mia, “Parallelle Verdener. Magisk og rituel praksis blandt moderne hekse i Danmark”, Kulturstudier 1 (2012), 111–133. Warmind, Morten, “Asatro i Danmark – en foreløbig oversigt”, Religion: tidsskrift for Religionslærerforeningen for Gymnasiet og HF 1 (2002), 33–37.

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——— . “Asatro i Danmark – spredning og vækst af en ny religion”, in: Margit Warburg and Brian Jacobsen (eds.), Tørre tal om troen: Religionsdemografi i Danmark i det 21. århundrede, Højbjerg: Forlaget Univers, 2007: 208–220. York, Michael, The Emerging Network: A Sociology of the New Age and Neo-pagan Move­ ments, Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers Inc., 1995.

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Chapter 45 Paganism in Finland

Paganism in Finland Titus Hjelm The growth and public recognition of different types of contemporary Paganism in the West, especially in the English-speaking world, has led some scholars to conclude that the developments of the last fifteen or so years can indeed be called a “Pagan explosion” (Lewis 2006). While surveys of Pagans, an ever-increasing scholarly interest, and the establishment of “Pagan studies” as an independent field of study (e.g., Ezzy, Blain & Harvey 2005; Davy 2006) all do point to a definite change, there is variation in the intensity of the emergence of contemporary Paganisms in different social contexts. In Finland, researchers have also noted a steady growth in the number of people identifying themselves as Pagans (although no truly reliable surveys exist). In addition, the Pagan presence on the Internet has grown and publications discussing certain forms of Paganism (e.g., Hjelm 2005) have appeared since the early 2000s. Nevertheless, the only discernible “explosion” in Finnish Paganism has been the public controversy about the alleged occultism in the highly popular Harry Potter books, a debate which Pagans were drawn into only reluctantly. This is significantly different from the United States, where the Pagans (widely understood) not only have a strong presence in the spirituality book market, but also a more recognised public status that has enabled the establishment of state-funded prison chaplains in certain states, for example. Despite the emergence of a lively subculture, Finnish Paganism remains marginal with little organisation and struggling with the question of legitimacy. There are currently no reliable numbers for contemporary pagans in Finland. Tom Sjöblom (2000: 239) gives a conservative estimate of 500–1,000 practitioners, but organised coven activity is very likely taking place on a much smaller scale. However, the virtual community is very active, with all of the organisations maintaining more or less active discussion lists and forums. It seems that in a country of small population and large distances, the Internet has become the main vehicle for communication and recruitment in the Wicca and wider Pagan community (cf. Fernback 2002; Linderman & Lövheim 2003). Contemporary Paganisms in Finland can be roughly divided into two different groups (for a different typology, see Sjöblom 2000). The first is what I call “World Paganisms”, which refers to forms of Paganism that draw from internationally recognised Pagan traditions that have originated outside of Finland.

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Most significant among these are Wicca and different types of Goddess religion. The second group I have termed “Indigenous Reconstructions”, referring to groups and traditions that are primarily inspired by Finnish folklore and folk religion. The distinction is, however, analytic in the sense that in practice the field of contemporary Paganism is very eclectic. Therefore, it would not be uncommon to find a Witch chanting incantations from the Finnish national epic The Kalevala, for example.

“World Paganisms” in Finland

Neopaganism came to Finland in organised form in 1979 when an organisation called The Center of Mielikki and Hare (the group used this English-language name) was formed. The centre was the Finnish branch of the Fellowship of Isis, established in Ireland in 1976. The Fellowship of Isis emphasised the role of the Great Earth Mother, allegedly worshipped before the triumph of Christianity and patriarchal monotheism in Europe (Hjelm & Sohlberg 2004: 9–10; Sjöblom 2000: 228). From the beginning, the Finnish Pagans borrowed elements from the rich Finnish folklore in their practice. The so-called Sirius group was formed in 1979, with the cultivation of ancient Finnish pagan beliefs as its main aim. This group was later renamed Jumalten Ystävät (Friends of the Gods) and acted as an umbrella organisation for those interested in various forms of Western esotericism, contemporary Paganism, the occult, and mysticism (Heino 1997: 368). Along with another umbrella organisation, Pohjoismainen pakanaliitto (The Nordic Pagan Association), all of these groups are now defunct. The late 1990s saw resurgence in the interest in Paganism and led to a formation of new associations. The longest-surviving of these, Shamaaniseura ry (The Shaman Association, the abbreviation ry stands for registered association), was established in 1994 and officially registered in 2000. Lehto ry (The Grove) was established in Helsinki in 1998. It is an association for contemporary Pagans who consider themselves practitioners of nature religion, no matter what the name of the specific strand of belief is (Aarnio 2001: 207). Pakanaverkko ry (The Pagan Network), established in 1999, is a loose association of representatives of different Pagan religions (including Satanism that is often considered controversial and not a Pagan religion by other Pagan associations) and people interested in different forms of magic. The Wiccans also have two registered associations, one for traditionalist (i.e., Gardnerian and Alexandrian) Wiccans (Wicca ry, est. 2000) and the other, Suomen vapaa Wiccayhdyskunta (The Finnish Free Wicca Association, est. 2001, not registered as an

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association) for traditionalists and eclectics alike. It is unclear how much organised activity, if any, goes on under these two organisations today. In addition, an association practising “Tensegrity”, a meditative technique developed by Carlos Castaneda (Kirkkaanvihreä ry, Cleargreen, est. 1999), is registered under the Associations Act. The newest arrivals in the Finnish Pagan scene are Reclaimed ry. (est. 2007) and the Pagan Federation International which established its (unregistered) Finnish branch in 2010.

Indigenous Reconstructions

Despite the fluctuating fortunes of contemporary Paganism, Pagan religion has strong roots in Finnish culture. Historically, Finland has often been regarded as the land of shamans and spell-weavers. The significance of the national epic Kalevala as a national symbol led to practical revitalisation attempts of the “old spiritual wisdom” already at the time of its publication in the mid-nineteenth century, and ‘also played a central role in such religious movements as Anthroposophy and the Finnish Rosicrucian movement during the first decades of the [twentieth] century’ (Sjöblom 2000: 228). Although this kind of “academic esotericism”, mainly practised by people with an interest in national myths and history, probably survived among a small number of adherents, nothing comparable to the Pagan revivals in 1950s and 1960s in the UK and US happened in Finland. Rejuvenation of (or perhaps more correctly, reconstruction of) Finnish folk religion was the main purpose of the Hiidenkirnu (Giant’s Kettle, est. date unknown, active in the 1990s) group, which also aimed at cooperating with emerging Baltic Pagan groups. Like many of its contemporary peers, Hiiden­ kir­nu is also now defunct. The newer Suomen kansanuskon yhdistys ry. (Finnish Folk Religion Association, est. 2001) claims not to represent contemporary Paganism or a reconstruction of Finnish folk religion, but instead (somewhat ambiguously) seeks ‘to continue what our mothers and fathers have taught us and respect their way of practising folk religion’ (Kansanuskovat webpage). The association is also active in promoting folk religion among ­kindred nations in Russia and Estonia, for example. Other new organisations include Taivaannaula ry. (Heaven’s Nail, est. 2007), which practises a contemporary reconstruction old pre-Christian Finnish folk religion, and Wakka-mys­teerikoulu (Wakka Mystery School, est. 2006), which combines features from Western esotericism (an initiatory system, for example) with aspects of Finnish folk religion. All of the above are registered under the Associations Act. In

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December 2013, Finland got its first registered Pagan community when Karhun kansa (People of the Bear), a group professing reconstructed Finnish folk religion, was added to the register of officially recognised religious communities. Less recognisably religious is the Suomen kansanparantajaseura ry. (The Finnish Naturopathic Society, est. 1996). Their aim is to promote the preservation of old folk healing techniques passed down from generation to generation. Although many of these techniques compete with other “alternative” forms of medicine in the secular well-being market, some folk healers are explicitly spiritual, using chanting and spells and aiming at altered states of consciousness in their practice.

Public Paganism, Legitimacy, and Authenticity

One marked feature of the Finnish Paganism milieu is that with the exception of Karhun Kansa, none of the above associations is registered as a religious community as defined in the Freedom of Religion Act. Most of them are geared towards networking, organising social events (without notable religious content), and providing information on contemporary Paganism for the broader public. One recent addition to the list, Pakanatieto ry (Pagan Information Association, est. 2004) is a model example of the latter function. For many groups this is probably enough. Because the field is generally eclectic, the small community understandably wants to remain inclusive. This comes, however, at the cost of legitimacy. Although recognised as bona fide religions by scholars and also by a growing number of the broader public, the lacking official status of religion is a feature which affects and in some cases undermines the public image of Paganisms as serious religions. Although Karhun Kansa succeeded in 2013, the previous (failed) attempt at registering a Pagan community serves as an example of the wider concerns that Finnish Pagans face (Hjelm, Mäkelä & Sohlberg, forthcoming). The Finnish Free Wicca Association (SVWY) applied for the status of a registered religious community in the beginning of 2001. Practising religion in Finland does not require registration, but it brings with it some benefits, notably the right to perform public ceremonies, such as marriage, and the right to levy taxes on members for religious purposes (Seppo 1998). However, in the case of Wicca the aim was rather to gain public recognition as a serious religion (Hjelm 2005: 96). With respect to tradition, the application submitted by SVWY tried to be as inclusive as possible. It included under the name “Wicca” a diverse array of different beliefs and practices, including some that many

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inside the Pagan movement do not consider “Wicca”. This turned out to be the stumbling block for the registration attempt. In late 2001 the department responsible for the registration at the Ministry of Education rejected the application on the grounds that Wicca did not fulfill the requirements of a religious community as defined in the Freedom of Religion Act of 1922. The major problem was that SVWY tried to include all different branches of Wicca in their application. This would be analogous to trying to register “Christianity” or “Lutheranism”, whereas the registration applies only to clearly defined groups like the Finnish Methodist Church or the Jewish Congregation of Helsinki. Even if the Finnish authorities’ definition of religion could be justly considered to have a Judeo-Christian bias, the application could not have worked the way it was drafted (Sjöblom 2005). The eclectic and inclusive nature of Wicca in Finland turned against itself when confronted by the authorities. The Finnish Free Wicca Association filed a complaint against the decision with the Finnish Supreme Administrative Court, but the court voted against their appeal. Consequently, all Wiccan and other Pagan groups in Finland operate under the register of associations. Soon after the initial disappointment with the failure of the registration process, the Wiccan community also recognised the problems with the application. Although the inclusive atmosphere of the community had never been shared by everyone (the more reclusive Gardnerians being a prime example), this setback has put new strains on the unity of the movement. Especially important is the growing worry about the motivations of new recruits and the loss of credibility such “Wiclettes” (the actual English word some of the older Finnish Wiccans use) may bring (cf. Pearson 2002: 41–44). For some, a turn to what I have termed the “new rise of tradition” (Hjelm 2006) has served as the best legitimation strategy. The sentiment felt among some of the traditionalists is that to be a legitimate Wiccan, one should at least know the basic writings of the “classics” (although there is some variation regarding which texts are to be considered the definitive works). Some have also indicated that being part of a coven is necessary, thus excluding solitary practitioners who comprise the majority of all Finnish Wiccans. Interestingly, these claims conform very well to the complaints made by the Ministry of Education quoted earlier. One cannot avoid the impression that, for some, a stricter interpretation of tradition is a response to the authorities’ denial of the religion status. This exclusivity expressed by the Wiccan traditionalists is in stark contrast to the professed openness of the Finnish Pagan community and is undoubtedly a response to the pressure created by the public reception of Wicca and

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Paganism in general. It should be noted that Wicca is of course a specific case. For some forms of Paganism there is little incentive to register. Also, the opinions regarding registration vary also in the more organised groups. However, the question of legitimacy is intimately intertwined with the fate of the Pagan community in Finland. The more secluded the Pagan community is, the more likely it is to remain marginal. However, entering the public arena as a genuine religion vying for legitimacy unavoidably creates tension within the movement because the internal boundaries of practice and belief need to be drawn more tightly, as the case of The Finnish Free Wicca Association shows. It remains to be seen which direction the emerging contemporary Pagan community in Finland will take in the future.

References

Davy, Barbara Jane, Introduction to Pagan Studies, Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira Press, 2006. Ezzy, Douglas, Jenny Blain and Graham Harvey (eds.), Studying Paganisms, Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira Press, 2005. Fernback, Jan, “Internet Ritual: A Case Study in the Construction of Computer-Mediated Neopagan Religious Meaning”, in: Stewart M. Hoover and Lynn Schofield Clark (eds.), Practicing Religion in the Age of the Media: Explorations in Media, Religion, and Culture, New York: Columbia University Press, 2002, 254–275. Heino, Harri, Mihin Suomi tänään uskoo, Helsinki: WSOY, 1997. Hjelm, Titus (ed.), Mitä Wicca on?, Helsinki: Like, 2005. Hjelm, Titus, “Wicca kohtaa valtion”, in: Titus Hjelm (ed.), Mitä Wicca on?, Helsinki: Like, 2005, 95–132. ——— . “Between Satan and Harry Potter: Legitimating Wicca in Finland”, Journal of Contemporary Religion 21(1), 2006, 39–58. Hjelm, Titus and Jussi Sohlberg, “Jumalattaren helmassa. Wicca nuorten uskonnollisena liikkeenä”, Nuorisotutkimus 22(2), 2004, 3–19. Hjelm, Titus Essi Mäkelä and Jussi Sohlberg, “What Do We Talk About When We Talk About Legitimate Religion? Failure and Success in the Registration of Two Pagan Communities in Finland”, in: George Chryssides (ed.), Minority Religions in Europe and the Middle East: Mapping and Monitoring, Farnham: Ashgate, forthcoming. Lewis, James R., “The Pagan Explosion”, A paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Academy of Religion, Washington, D.C., 9–21 November 2007. Linderman, Alf and Mia Lövheim, “Internet, Religion, and Attribution of Social Trust”, in: Jolyon Mitchell and Sophia Marriage (eds.), Mediating Religion: Conversations in Media, Religion, and Culture, London & New York: T & T Clark, 2003, 229–240.

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Pearson, Joanne, “The History and Development of Wicca and Paganism”, in: Joanne Pearson (ed.), Belief Beyond Boundaries: Wicca, Celtic Spirituality, and the New Age, Aldershot: Ashgate, 15–54. Seppo, Juha, “The Freedom of Religion and Conscience in Finland”, Journal of Church and State 40(4), 1998, 847–872. Sjöblom, Tom, “Contemporary Paganism in Finland”, in: Jeffrey Kaplan (ed.), Beyond the Mainstream: The Emergence of Religious Pluralism in Finland, Estonia, and Russia, Helsinki: Finnish Literature Society, 2000, 223–40. ——— . “Uskontona olemisen taidosta – keskustelua wiccan virallistamisesta uskonnoksi”, in: Titus Hjelm (ed.), Mitä Wicca on?, Helsinki: Like, 2005, 133–149. Topi, Aarnio, “Vanhat jumalat, uudet pakanat”, in: Jussi Niemelä (ed.), Vanhat juma­lat, uudet tulkinnat, Helsinki: Department of Comparative Religion, 196–208.

367 Chapter 46 Uldal and Winje

Paganism in Norway Geir Uldal and Geir Winje In Norway, like in other Western countries, modern Paganism is a vibrant religious current. Both as part of alternative spirituality and within certain strands of youth culture, there are people who reconstruct pre-Christian religions or combine aspects of pre-Christian religions with other elements. Imaginative concepts are blended with more historical facts in many different ways. Even if there has not been much research on Paganism in Norway, some academic papers have appeared, and a few books and articles have been published on this topic (i.e., Bråthen 2012; Fonneland 2010; Gilhus & Mikaelsson 2005; Kraft 2011; Krzywinski 2006; Uldal & Winje 2007). Based on these sources, but mainly on participation, observation, and contacts with informants in Pagan milieus, we will give an account of the Norwegian Pagan landscape. For analytical purposes, the Pagan field can be seen as comprising four categories. Like any other typology, this may be a simplification of the rather more complicated details of Norwegian Paganism. Many Pagans belong to different milieus and move across the religious landscape. Other categorisations may therefore be as valid as ours, and phenomena that do not fit into our scheme will be pointed out in the course of our discussion. After a short look backwards in history, we present the Norwegian Asatru milieus of today, as they may be the most typical examples of contemporary Norwegian or Scandinavian Paganism. We then look at wicca, primarily Gardnerian wicca, which may be seen as a starting point of “the religion of witches” in Norway. The third category we examine is the Goddess movement, which we find evidence of both inside and outside the wicca groups. Finally, we will discuss neoshamanism, a practice with historical roots in Paganism. The neoshamanistic movement influences both Pagan and other modern religious or spiritual milieus in today’s Norway.

A Short Retrospective Sketch

Asatru is the only Pagan religion that has been visibly present in Norway before the 1980s. In the nineteenth century, when the European national states were established, the National Romantic movement entailed an understanding of the nation’s past as a Golden Age. Old songs, stories, and other traditions were

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collected, and trendsetting artists, historians, and writers took an interest in Old Norse culture, including the Eddas, written in Iceland in the thirteenth century. The Eddas contain poems and stories about gods belonging to two categories, the æsir and vanir, as well as other mythological beings such as a race of giants, jotnir. The Eddas also contain ethical codes that differ from the ethics of Christianity. The first attempts to reconstruct Asatru were made during the Romantic period, but this was more of a literary endeavour than a practised religion. Examples of this early literary form of Asatru include the Danish writer N.F.S. Grundtvig (1783–1872) who published Om asalæren (About the Gods) in 1807 and Nordens mythologie (Scandinavian Mythology) in 1808, and the Norwegian historian Peter A. Munch (1810–1863) and others who published translations of the Eddas for a broader readership (Steinsland 2005). The ideas from this period became a part of what may be described as a Norwegian national romantic, and partly nationalist, philosophy, and were harmonised with the more established thoughts and values based on Christianity and modernity. In the 1930s these romantic and more or less nationalistic notions were developed in a politically more radical direction (Emberland 2003; Tveito 2007). Two important Pagans from this period were the composer Geirr Tveitt (1908–1981) and the national socialist Per Imerslund (1912–1943). Both of them participated in the milieu centred on the periodical Ragnarok (1935–1945), edited by Hans S. Jacobsen (1901–1980). This group of journalists and others were also known as “The Men of Hagal”, named after the rune hagal that was the symbol of both the periodical and the group. The Men of Hagal espoused broadly racist and right-wing political views. Here we will only point out elements of these views that are directly relevant to their Pagan interests. First, their creed may be understood as a branch of the mainly German völkisch ideology, one that is particularly connected to its occultist version, Ariosophy. Second, they did not arrange any Pagan religious rituals, but were mainly interested in the political and cultural significance of reconstructed Norse Asatru. Third, since they saw Christianity as a religion based on Judaism, their ideal of a racially based revolution called for replacing Christianity with a modernised form of Norse religion.

Asatru

Today the main Norwegian Asatru milieus take a strong stand against racist or nationalist interpretations of Norse religion. Apart from this general anti-racist consensus, they contain many different interpretations of what Asatru actually means and how it may be practised today. While some address the Norse

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gods as entities, others see them as symbols of, e.g., elements in nature. And while the majority celebrates many gods, some Pagans only focus on the worship of Odin. Among the Norwegian Asatru groups, Asatrufelleskapet Bifrost (The Asatru Fellowship Bifrost) has a unique position. Bifrost is the name of the bridge that in Norse mythology connects the world of the gods (Åsgard) with the world of men (Midgard). Asatrufelleskapet Bifrost is an officially registered religious community, with (at the time of writing) close to 300 members and a much larger number of sympathisers. On its website the fellowship states: ‘No kind of discrimination based on origin, sexual orientation or other personal trait is acceptable within Bifrost – or anywhere else, if you ask us. Unfortunately and sadly, Norse symbols have been heavily abused in the past and even today by far right-wingers and outright Nazis. One of our missions is reclaiming the expressions of the old customs so that they shall no longer be associated with hateful ideologies. Though different, all human beings possess indispensable intrinsic value, as do all living things’ (Information in English from www. bifrost.no, accessed 11 February 2014). The fellowship also states that ‘one of the most important goals of Bifrost is to carry on old customs and traditions, and establish new ones when there is a need (…) It is important that we manage to adjust the customs to our own modern everyday life, so that they continue to be meaningful actions, also to people of today. We want to live the wisdom and knowledge of the old ones through following their customs, but we do not necessarily want to live like Vikings’ (ibid.). In fact, religious practice may be combined with academic study, and many of the most active members have university degrees in subjects such as History of Religions and Folkloristics. The Bifrost Fellowship is an umbrella organisation that includes different blotslag. This concept combines the words blot (sacrifice) and lag (small group), so that a blotslag is a group of people who meet to sacrifice together. The fellowship also includes individuals, and publishes Bifrost Tidende (The Bifrost Times). One of its sources of inspiration has been the Icelandic society known as Félag Ásatruarmanna, founded in 1973. In Norway, Blindern Åsatrolag (BÅL or Blindern Asatru Group) was founded in Oslo in 1983, named after the district in Oslo where the university is located. Bifrost carries on BÅL’s form of late modern Asatru, and has blotslag in many Norwegian towns. In order to be registered as an officially accepted religion by the Norwegian government, Bifrost was required to present a statement summarising its basic doctrines. These are published as Eden (The Oath), which is incorporated in The Laws of Bifrost. Eden opens with the words: ‘I believe in a better life through the life and teachings of asatru’ (translated from , accessed

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11 February 2014), and goes on to list eight central points. These points include definitions of the æsir and vanir, the two main groups of Norse gods, and a systematic discussion of other mythological beings and natural forces. The underlying ontology in this text seems close to what we know today about preChristian Norse religion. The final and concluding point states: ‘I will claim my ancestors’ customs and heathen practices as far as possible in my age and in accordance with my own conditions. I will honour my forefathers and gods, and consider all that lives in nature. I will claim the honour of my family and myself, and live in accordance with good custom, heathen practice and the will of the gods’ (ibid.). It should be stressed that while some members of Bifrost have a magical view of reality, others do not. As in most late modern or postmodern forms of religiosity we see an openness and great tolerance on the level of doctrine. What keeps the fellowship together seems to be common practice rather than shared belief. Apart from the ting, or main yearly gathering, where, among other matters, the leaders are chosen, the main activity in Bifrost is arranging sacrifices or blots. These may be celebrated at any time, but are usually arranged at the large solar equinox and solstice festivals or the main turning points in the lives of its members, such as childbirth, marriage, and death or funeral. The blots are, as far as possible, modelled on what is known about Norse pre-Christian religion, and consist of four main elements: 1) Reading from the Eddas, the Old Norse poems about the gods, 2) sanctifying the place of the offering, 3) the offering itself, usually food and other gifts that are thrown into a fire, and 4) a ceremonial toast to the gods. The ceremony is practised in a both serious and humorous way, and the gilde, the party after the blot, is as important as the blot itself. Besides participating in blots, many of the members of Bifrost practise rune magic and seid, mainly on an individual level. Seid is an Old Norse word for magic or sorcery. These activities are, unlike the blot, difficult to reconstruct from historical sources. In a Pagan context, seid seems to be influenced by practices found in the New Age milieu. Attempts to reconstruct apparently authentic forms of divination, healing, and the like are usually made without a historical-critical use of sources, and are often based on a mixture of traditions from various indigenous people. In the context of Bifrost, runes are used for divination, as signs of power, and as talismans. Seid is connected to galdr, an Old Norse word that may be translated as “healing song” or “magic song”. Many people in the Asatru milieus create and sing their own healing songs, inspired by how they imagine galdr would have functioned in Norse times. Besides The Oath and the blot, The Laws of Bifrost deal with other rituals, as well as a code of ethics, derived from Old Norse texts. A great part of The Laws also describes different roles within the Asatru community, such as that of

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høvding (Chief), råd (Council), and lovsigare (chosen members with a certain responsibility for jurisdiction). Besides the Fellowship of Bifrost there are several more or less organised groups with a similar profile. Foreningen Forn Sed (The Forn Sed Union), with close to seventy members, is the most important of these. Forn Sed is an Old Norse expression for “customs of past times”. This group publishes Ni heimer (named after the nine worlds in Norse mythology), and is the only asatru group besides Bifrost that has been accepted as a registered religious community by the Norwegian government. The guidelines for Foreningen Forn Sed state, among other things, that ‘the main content of the heathen custom is that each human being is responsible for his or hers own life and actions’ and that the union ‘is loyal to Norwegian laws and Norwegian legal authorities’ (translated from accessed 11 February 2014). The reason for the existence of two religious organisations that have so much in common, is said to be personal disagreements between key figures in the Asatru milieu in the 1990s. Even if Forn Sed keeps a lower profile, both groups attempt to be visible by, e.g., advertising blots in local newspapers, arranging meetings at pubs, etc. Both groups also have members who participate in different ways in a broader cultural movement characterised by reconstructions of Viking ships, Viking markets, music inspired by Old Norse lyrics and instruments, and Viking tourism. In this mixture of commercialism, a romantic view of the past, and a quest for authenticity, each individual can combine ideas in his or her own eclectic way. Some of the concepts and values originate from the National Romantic era of the nineteenth century rather than in any historically documentable Norse culture. Some individuals with a nationalistic understanding of Asatru gather in groups with nationalistic or racist ideological profiles. For these groups, mythology and religious rituals are less important than in Asatrufellsskapet Bifrost or Foreningen Forn Sed. Instead, they spread propaganda for their political views in a language characterised by Norse religious concepts. Despite their arguably more marginal connection to Pagan religiosity, we will give brief outlines of the two most important organisations of this kind active in the first decade of the twenty-first century: Det norske åsatrusamfunn (DNÅ, The Norwegian Asatru Union) and Vigrid. DNÅ presents itself as a polytheistic, pagan group (see Vegtams nettsider or “Vegtam’s sites – dedicated to the struggle for survival of the Norwegian ­people”, translated from vegtam.info, accessed 12 February 2014). The union claims to represent some 250 members, and seems to concern itself mainly with ­political challenges in connection with modern global migration, the World Bank, and similar issues. DNÅ has also published Vilfred T. Hansen’s Handbok i hedenskap

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(Pagan Manual), which has provided the data for our presentation of the group. The Handbok focuses among other things on the symbolic values of the different gods, which are understood both as entities and as aspects of the human psyche. The gods are nevertheless mainly interpreted in accordance with racial theories, and DNÅ links Asatru with a love of the homeland and national independence. Historically, Asatru seems to have considered itself as ethnical or locally delimited movement, accepting that other ethnical groups had other gods (Steinsland 2005). For DNÅ this means that today’s Asatru is considered to be suitable only for Scandinavian or Germanic peoples, and not for other ethnic groups. One of the pronounced aims of DNÅ is to defend what they consider to be “Norwegian”, genetically as well as politically, cf. statements such as: ‘You shall protect your own race and give lebensraum and the opportunity of life to the other races!’ (translated from vegtam.info, accessed 12 February 2014). Vigrid is named after the giant plain where, according to Norse mythology, Ragnarok will take place. The group seems to carry on some of the ideology that characterised The Men of Hagal (see above). The organisation differs from the others presented in this chapter, partly because it was highly publicised in the Norwegian media for roughly a decade after it was founded in 1998. In 2009 Vigrid was disbanded because the leader Tore W. Tvedt (b.1943), who was titled “Prophet”, retired, but some activity seems to have resumed after 2013. Accord­ ing to its website (, accessed 12 February 2014), Vigrid’s focus is directed towards political issues including “criticism of Jews” (a concept that for Vigrid includes both Jewish people, Zionist politics, and Judaism) and of Christianity. Besides such right-wing political topics, the often-cited slogan: ‘Odin is great and we are his chosen people!’ reveals a somewhat monotheistic form of Asatru. Besides this, Vigrid seems to concern itself with three more decidedly religious and Pagan-related topics. One is a form of baptism, which is seen in connection with cleansing or becoming skiri, an Old Norse word for clean. During its most active period, Vigrid mostly had rather young members, who went through this initiation performed by Tvedt himself. The second is confirmation, which was arranged online. The third topic deals with some verses from the Eddas, which are seen as canonical scripture. When asked about membership, Tore W. Tvedt answered: ‘The only number we give is that we have made more than 200 persons skiri, so that they have earned the right to the title menneske ([literally “human being”, but glossed by Tvedt as] man + skiri = menneske), and that we have arranged more than 300 ceremonies. If you look around on our website, you’ll find the information you need. Our aims are the most important thing’ (from an e-mail received from Tore W. Tvedt on 16 June 2006). In a later e-mail, dated 1 June 2007, when Vigrid was at the height of its activity, he wrote that the numbers were between

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250 and 300 who had been made skiri and that a total of between 350 and 400 ceremonies had been conducted.

Wicca

Some 200 Norwegian witches or supporters of Wicca were until recently organised in the umbrella organisation Nordisk Paganistforbund (NPF or Nordic Association of Pagans), which also contained members who practised Asatru. Beginning in 1992, NPF published the journal I ny og ne (Wax and Wane), and operated a voluminous website. Both the website and the association itself were disbanded in 2013, and the occasion was marked with a ceremony where among other things ritual equipment was burned. Communication between wiccan groups is now less centralised. It is established networks consisting of more private sites, i.e., (accessed 12 February 2014), as well as social media, such as Facebook. Even if a lot of wiccans are rather young, we find some older, trendsetting personalities who in the 1980s and 1990s had a strong influence on both Wicca and Asatru in Norway. Some of them were members of the OTO, an organisation that in many ways has dominated the magic-occult environment in Norway (see the article on Occultism in Norway in the present volume). Among them was Stein Jarving (“Dalula”, 1945–2005), who in 1988 invited Vivianne Crowley – a Jungian psychotherapist and writer initiated in both Gardnerian and Alexandrian Wicca by the founders of those movements – to visit Norway from England. In that year she initiated Wicca followers in the small southern Norwegian town of Tvedestrand and in Bergen, and since then numerous covens have been established in Bergen, Oslo, and other cities. Even if Gardnerian Wicca was dominant from the start, eclectic Wicca seems to be the most important today. A growing number of younger people, especially girls, who see themselves as witches, operate individually. Infor­ mation on Wicca and ritual instructions are no longer understood as secret knowledge that is only accessible from initiated priests or priestesses or secret books. Instead, “teenage witches” can find what they need on websites or in popularised “do it yourself” books (i.e., Sabin 2006; Berger and Ezzy 2007). They do not necessarily understand Wicca as a coherent religious system or distinguish between different types of Wicca, but are content with more fragmented knowledge derived from various sources. These self-declared witches seem to oppose or seek alternatives to the initiations and the “classical” Wiccan system of three degrees, which they consider too rigid or too formal. Many therefore initiate themselves, or they enter groups with less hierarchical structures.

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In the Norwegian Wicca groups, ceremonial magic is a key activity. One type of ritual is initiatory, often in a three-tiered structure reminiscent of the practice of occultist groups such as the OTO. More important, however, is the wiccan ritualisation of nature that is particularly prominent during eight “sabbats” over the course of a year, namely the equinoxes and solstices, plus at the four old Celtic festivals in between; imbolc (2 February), beltane (30 April), lammas (1 August) and samhain (31 October, cf. Halloween). During these eight solar festivals, the Wiccans dramatise the lives of the Goddess and the God, as an expression of the life cycle of nature throughout the year. The cycle of the moon is followed and celebrated by gatherings on esbats. The notion of esbat seems to originate from the books of Margaret Murray (1862–1963). It may have been developed from French esbat or ébat, terms for “full moon”, and indicates in a wiccan context a gathering, usually at new or full moon, on the level of covens with up to thirteen members. While some wiccans experience the Goddess and the God as actual beings, others understand them in terms that resemble Jungian archetypes or symbols of forces in nature. The Goddess and the God may in these groups be given proper names, as they are in other Wicca traditions. They may be called Aradia and Pan or Cernunnos (names found also in the version of The Book of Shadows passed on by Gerald Gardner [1884–1964] and Doreen Valiente [1922–1999]). However, many other names, including Norse ones, are used (as in Pagan Asatru as presented above). Although Wiccans have adopted the ritual celebration of a goddess, Wicca may, nonetheless, be understood as different from the Goddess movement strictly speaking (see below), in the light of statements such as this: ‘The Goddess is central (…) but the important thing is to accept both the feminine and the masculine aspect of the divine (...) which also is reflected in the rituals’ (translated from , accessed 12 February 2014). Wiccan texts usually also point out that, besides worshipping such symbolic or real deities, ‘pagan religions are strongly connected with the Earth and nature, with the elements and planets, the sun and moon’ (ibid.). Wiccans often understand themselves as practitioners of a religion, even though no Wiccan organisation had at the time of writing applied to the government to be officially registered as a religion. In this way they appear as rather different from the Goddess movement (see below), that may be better understood as a broader and less specific movement or element inside such diverse currents as the New Age milieu, Wicca, and other religions. Another distinctive feature is that Wicca is strongly non-commercial. Wiccans signal that their religion differs from the alternative movement and the rest of modern society by never receiving money for doing rituals, giving speeches, and so on. By contrast, representatives of both the Goddess Move-

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ment and neoshamans may be present at gatherings such as “alternative fairs”, and offer their products and courses side by side with, i.e., alternative medical firms. In contrast to the blots celebrated in Bifrost (see above), Norwegian Wicca rituals can take on many different shapes. Each individual can to a certain degree decide how to define or practise witchcraft. It is, however, expected that those who participate in the activities of the covens are loyal to their groups when it comes to matters such as initiations, sabbats and esbats.

The Goddess Movement

The Goddess movement is not as easy to delimit as Asatru or Wicca, and not all aspects of the Goddess movement need necessarily be defined as a form of religion. While many people relate to goddesses as part of a Pagan form of worship, others do so as a mode of self-development. We will therefore define the Goddess Movement as a current that has an influence on the religious landscape in Norway, both outside and inside the Norwegian Church and other established institutions. It also has an influence on what we may term late modern spirituality or New Age. A characteristic trait of this current is a focus on and valuation of the feminine aspect of the divine or the god(s). Inside the Christian Church, the Goddess movement may imply an increased focus on Mary and other female saints, on feminine aspects of God or man, or a greater receptiveness when it comes to goddesses from other religious traditions. Outside the religious institutions, there are seminars and other types of meetings where the participants listen to lectures about, meditate upon, or even worship the Goddess or the feminine aspect of the divine. Many Norwegians have for example attended courses at Ängsbacka, a Swedish centre for spiritual development, where a focus on the Goddess may be combined with practices such as shamanism and yoga. In Norway it is usually women who visualise or worship the Goddess in organised form, and the Goddess movement is often described as a kind of feminist religious orientation. A central factor in this attempt to make a distinction between the Goddess movement and Wicca, is the understanding of the divine as feminine within the Goddess movement, as opposed to the focus on sexual polarity in Wicca (see above). However, we would suggest that the Goddess movement, as a contemporary Pagan current, is related to and partly overlaps with the Wiccan movement. To some degree we see this in Norway, where, as mentioned, Gardnerian Wicca dominates. However, in the United States the notions of Wicca and the Goddess movement to a great extent refer to the same religious current. To simplify, we may say that the Norwegian Wicca milieus are inspired

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by the English witch movement, while the Norwegian Goddess movement is influenced by its American counterpart. At the same time, we find covens within Wicca that worship only the Goddess, and not both the Goddess and God. Among those who represent the Goddess movement in Norway, theologian Jone Salomonsen (b. 1956) is particularly prominent. She has conducted research on, but also participated in, the Reclaiming movement in San Francisco, California, and is inspired by Starhawk (Miriam Simos, b. 1951), activist and author of The Spiral Dance (1979) and other books that have influenced both Wicca and the Goddess movement. Salomonsen provides an example of how the Goddess movement has influenced the Norwegian religious landscape. As a theologian with a degree from the University of Oslo, she communicates her views in a more academic context than most Goddess worshippers. At the same time, she is involved practically in Goddess-related activities, e.g., in Galder (a name derived from Old Norse galdr or “healing song”), a ritual workshop which has cooperated with organisations both inside and outside the Norwegian Church. Among them are the Dialogue Centre of Emmaus, that works with dialogue and spirituality in close contact with various Christian and non-Christian communities, as well as unorganised new religious milieus. Another example is Holistisk Forbund (HoF, Holistic Union), an association for people with a holistic view of life, founded in 2002. HoF claims to be a non-dogmatic alternative to both traditional religions and to the more modern Human-Etisk Forbund (Humanist Ethical Union), a secular association with some 70,000 members, which also arranges rites of passage. When HoF in the spring of 2006 organised an alternative confirmation arrangement for the first time, Salomonsen and Galder helped to create suitable ceremonies. The non-dogmatic creation of rituals is a distinctive feature of the Goddess movement; in fact, it is a characteristic of all of the Norwegian Pagan milieus that are the subjects of this chapter. The members of the Pagan groups meet in shared practices, characterised by tolerance and freedom in the way they interpret and understand their practice. In this way, the modern man’s or woman’s need of personal freedom seems satisfied. At the same time, shared ritual practice gives an experience of fellowship and solemnity.

Neoshamanism

While it is hard to give the Goddess movement a precise location on the Norwe­ gian religious map, it is even harder to place neoshamanism. Some modern shamans believe their practice to be a continuation or revitalisation of Pagan,

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mainly Sami, religion. Among these, some have established an organised religion, while others prefer to operate outside of it. Still others are not linked to any Pagan traditions at all, and may therefore be better understood as participants in the loosely-defined New Age. Many of those who provide or make use of alternative therapies or alternative forms of spirituality in Norway are represented by an umbrella organisation known as Alternativt Nettverk (Alternative Network). They advertise in the same periodical (Visjon) and meet each other at yearly “alternative fairs”, arranged in different parts of Norway. In this milieu one also finds many people who may be characterised as neoshamans. The first Norwegian neoshaman writer was Arthur Sørensen (b. 1950), who published Shaman in 1988, after visiting Michael Harner in California. Harner (b. 1929) published The Way of the Shaman in 1980, and is, besides Carlos Castaneda (1926–1998), one of the most influential writers on this subject. His main sources are Native American Indians, while neoshamanism in Norway is, as mentioned above, linked with Sami religion. An important figure in joining the two was Ailo Gaup (1944–2014). Gaup is a common Sami family name in Norway. In his novels, poetry, and non-fictional works, as well as in his lectures and courses, he connected shamanism to a rediscovery of his own Sami identity. At the same time, he opened the shamanistic universe to individuals who have no roots in any ingenious culture. In 2012 Sjamanistisk Forbund (SF, Shamanistic Union) was founded as the first organised shamanistic religious organisation in Norway. Here Sørensen is an important member, and Gaup was an advisor, even if he himself was not a member. SF has today (2014) roughly fifty members, and has the right to conduct ceremonies to mark birth, confirmation, marriage, and death. In order to be registered as an officially accepted religion, SF was required to present a statement summarising its basic doctrines. In this document neoshamanistic beliefs are described as the ‘acknowledgement of life in all that exists and are our relatives (…) by holy techniques access wisdom and knowledge from the Power of Creation, the forces of nature and the spirit world (…) a both ­collective and individual responsibility for all living beings, all creatures in nature, and Mother Earth (…) techniques to stimulate one’s own evolution and help fellow humans and other fellow creatures. This means that nature is holy and that the display of vital force is celebrated’ (translated from ­sjamanforbundet.no, accessed 27 February 2014). The document is published on the union’s website (sjamanforbundet.no), where we among other topics also find articles on shamanistic world views, totem animals, and rituals, both of Native American and Sami origin. In the healing ceremonies there are elements such as drumming (the Sami traditional drum is called runebomme), prayer and invocation in the four heavenly

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directions, and a sacred fire. Ritual use of chaga, a mushroom that grows on birch and other trees and is a traditional medicine plant, is also recommended. It is understood as sacred, and the spirit of Chaga is invoked by the Sami name Nivvsat Olmai. The leader of SF, Kyrre Gram Falck (b.1973), is titled “national patron and vision keeper”. He is also co-founder of The World Drum Project (founded 2006), an idealistic organisation with focus on peace and environmental issues. A Sami drum is sent on a journey ‘from country to country, people to people and from hand to hand (…) its heartbeat grows stronger each day. It is a wakeup call to reinstate our spiritual relationship to Mother Earth’ (translated from theworlddrum.com, accessed 1 March 2014). Neoshamanism involves a revitalisation of indigenous people’s cultures, religions, and political rights. It is interesting to observe how Native American, Sami, and other groups co-operate in a number of fields. In Norway, mostly in the north of the country, there are festivals where representatives from various indigenous groups meet to exchange music, art, thoughts, and practices – both religious and non-religious. At the same time, there are Norwegians without any contact with Sami culture who take courses, make drums, and gain neoshamanistic experiences – often understood as a form of healing. The Norwegian variety of neoshamanism is, as mentioned above, mainly based on Sami and Native American concepts and practices as presented in books written by anthropologists, both with and without Sami or Native American backgrounds. Many practitioners nevertheless claim imaginary or real ancestors in the process of identifying themselves with their Sami heritage. This may be compared to the historically perhaps rather shaky claim of some modern witches to pursue the practices of their wise foremothers. Neoshamans can in similar terms suggest that the spiritual helpers and animals that they contact during drumming sessions are the same entities that the pre-modern Samis met. At the same time some modern shamanistic rituals closely resemble those that are performed in the contexts of other Pagan currents such as Wicca and Asatru: The cardinal points are used, incense is burned, and mantras are chanted. Drumming and dancing are combined in new ways with concepts and practices from all over the world – filtered and blended in the postmodern melting pot of alternative religion and spirituality.

References

Berger, Helen A. and Douglas Ezzy, Teenage Witches, Magical Youth and the Search for the Self, New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 2007.

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Bråthen, Heidi, Prest og heks. Konstruksjoner av maskulinitet i initiatorisk wicca i Norge, Olso: Universitetet i Oslo, 2012. Dalula [pseud. Stein Jarving], Magi og heksekunst, Tvedestrand: Eutopia, 1999. Emberland, Terje, Religion og rase. Nyhedenskap og nazisme i Norge 1933–1945, Oslo: Humanist forlag, 2003. Fonneland, Trude A., Samisk nysjamanisme: i dialog med ( for)tid og stad. Ein kulturanalytisk studie av nysjamanar sine erfaringsforteljingar – identitetsforhandlingar og verdiskapning, Bergen: Universitetet i Bergen, 2010. ——— . “Ei ny religiøs rørsle tek form”, din, 1 (2014) . Gaup, Ailo, Trommereisen, Oslo: Gyldendal, 1988. ——— . Natten mellom dagene, Oslo: Gyldendal, 1992. ——— . Sjamansonen, Oslo: Tre bjørner forlag, 2005. ——— . Inn i naturen. Utsyn fra sjamansonen, Oslo: Tre bjørner forlag, 2007. Gilhus, Ingvild S. and Lisbet Mikaelsson, Kulturens refortrylling. Nyreligiøsitet i moderne samfunn, Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 2nd ed. 2005. Hansen, Vilfred T., Handbok i hedenskap (1996) [vegtam.info, accessed 12 February 2014]. Harner, Michael, The Way of the Shaman: A Guide to Power and Healing, San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1980. Hartveit, Karl M., Djevelen danser. Satanisme, magi, okkultisme, Oslo: Gyldendal, 1993. Kraft, Siv Ellen, Hva er nyreligiøsitet, Oslo: Universitetforlaget, 2011. Krzywinski, Therese, Med føttene på jorden og hodet blant stjernene, konstruksjoner av holisme i norsk initiatorisk Wicca, Bergen: Universitetet i Bergen, 2006. Sabin, Thea, Wicca for Beginners: Fundaments of Philosophy & Practice, Woodbury, Minne­sota: Llewellyn, 2006. Salomonsen, Jone, I Am a Witch – a Healer and a Bender: An Expression of Women’s ­Reli­giosity in Contemporary USA, Oslo: Universitetet i Oslo, 1997. ———. Enchanted Feminism: Ritual, Gender and Divinity Among the Reclaiming Witches of San Francisco, New York: Routledge, 2002. ——— . Når Gud blir kvinne, Oslo: Pax, 1991. ——— . Riter. Religiøse overgangsritualer i vår tid, Oslo: Pax, 1999. Sheba, Lady, The Book of Shadows, St. Paul: Llewellyn, 1971. Sørensen, Arthur, Shaman. En rituell innvielse, Oslo: Ex Libris, 1988. Steinsland, Gro, Norrøn religion. Myter, riter, samfunn, Oslo: Pax, 2005. Tveito, Lill-Hege, Kampen for den Nordiske rases overlevelse: Bruken av den norrøne mytologi innenfor Vigrid, Universitetet i Tromsø, 2007. Uldal, Geir and Geir Winje, Hekser og healere. Religion og spiritualitet i det moderne, Kris­tiansand: Høyskoleforlaget, 2007. Winje, Geir, Fra bønn til magi. Nye religioner og menneskesyn, Kristiansand: Høys­kole­ forlaget, 1999. ——— . “Det autentiske menneske. Kropp og spiritualitet i neopaganismen”, Religion og livssyn, 3 (2012), 39–44.

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Chapter 47 Paganism in Sweden

Paganism in Sweden Fredrik Gregorius

Introduction

Paganism is a comparatively late phenomenon on the Swedish alternative religious scene. Although there is evidence for the existence of small Pagan groups during the late 1970s, the oldest groups still active at the time of writing date from the late 1980s, and are based in the Stockholm area. During the middle of the 1990s Pagan groups began to spread to the rest of Sweden, mostly to other urban areas like Gothenburg and Malmö. A similar trend can be seen among magical orders in Sweden, such as Ordo Templi Orientis and Dragon Rouge, which also began to establish camps and lodges outside Stockholm at the same time. Paganism, however, is not generally established through the type of central structures that one finds in magical orders, but rather in the form of relatively autonomous local groups. Apart from Wicca, there is hardly any initiatory Paganism in Sweden and thus no perceived need for a lineage from a previous order or initiation. At present there are few academic studies of Paganism in Sweden, and the field remains relatively unexplored. The two most important forms of Paganism in Sweden are Norse Paganism, also called Asatru or Heathenism, and Wicca; these will be the focus of this chapter.

Norse Paganism-Heathenism

The most prominent form of Paganism in Sweden is the attempt to reconstruct the beliefs of pre-Christian Scandinavia, often called Asatru. The term “Asatru”, however, is controversial and most contemporary practitioners in Sweden prefer the term forn sed (ancient custom) as they regard the label Asatru to be a product of nineteenth-century national Romanticism. It is problematic to use forn sed as a general term for reconstructions of Old Norse religion, as it has little meaning and use outside Scandinavian-speaking countries and using it would therefore create an impression that Scandinavian reconstructions of Old Norse religions are regional rather than part of a global new religious movement. An alternative is the term Heathenism, which has become widely

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accepted by both scholars and practitioners as an umbrella term for a variety of movements with similar ambitions. The present chapter will follow this terminological convention (see also Gregorius 2015). Far from being a unified movement, Heathenism is divided into several different interpretations of Old Norse religious beliefs and practices. Some are modern practitioners of sejd, considered to be a form of Nordic shamanism. Many modern-day followers of sejd are also members of larger Heathen organisations, but smaller groups consisting of people exclusively practising sejd also exist. Due to the commonly-held opinion that it is a “New Age” practice, Heathens who do not practise sejd can feel rather ambivalent about sejd (Gregorius 2008: 270–273). Heathenism came rather late to Sweden. While a neo-shamanic sejd group called Yggdrasil existed already in the late 1970s, the first modern Heathen group in the strict sense of the term was Telge Fylking, founded in Stockholm in 1987. Telge Fylking had close ties to Breidablikk-gildet, a nationalistic semireligious order founded by Arne Sjöberg in 1975. At first, they held joint celebrations, but later the two groups drifted apart and Brediablikk would later disband. Telge Fylking was never a large organisation, and consisted of at most twenty-five members located in Stockholm. After a couple of years as a public organisation, appearing in various forms of media, printing their own magazine and accepting new members, Telge Fylking was closed to outsiders in 1994 (Gregorius 2008: 93–94). Telge Fylking became important for future Heathen movements in Sweden in several ways, particularly in terms of a political stand against racial interpretations of Heathenism. Sveriges Asatrosamfund/ Samfundet Forn Sed The most important Heathen organisation in Sweden is Samfundet Forn Sed (henceforth abbreviated Samfundet), founded in 1994 as Sveriges Asatro­ samfund (Swedish Asatru Assembly). Samfundet is an open organisation with a democratic structure, and with an ambition of being a national rather than regional organisation. In the early years, Samfundet was primarily based in Stockholm, but in the late 1990s local groups were established in other parts of Sweden (Skott 2000: 14). Apart from urban centres such as Malmö and Gothen­ burg, Samfundet was also established in more rural regions of Sweden and hence became a less urban phenomenon than is usually the case with Swedish Paganism. From consisting of only around twenty members at the fist national meeting in 1995, Samfundet would in 2000 claim to have 450 members. This figure was later questioned by other members who claimed that there were at most only some 250 members (Skott 2000: 14; Gregorius 2008: 101). In the year 2000 a turbulent time started for Samfundet. The organisation went through a series of crises and there was growing criticism of the

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chairman Carl Johan Rehbinder for being ineffective in handling the problems. At this time most of the local groups had become inactive, and some members would join other Heathen organisations such as Nordiska Ringen/Norröna Samfundet (see below) instead. Later, after a controversy regarding accusations about connections to far-right organisations and Norröna Samfundet in 2003, a number of former members returned to Samfundet that by now had a new board of directors and a new chairman. After only a couple of months, the new chairman Jóhannes Agústsson left the organisation due to criticism regarding his leadership and his allegedly excessive interest in Icelandic paganism. Agústsson had, among other things, expressed the opinion that anyone who wanted to become a gode (priest) had to learn Icelandic. After Agústsson left the organisation it was in a state of complete disarray and for a while there were two different camps that claimed ownership of Samfundet. In 2004 a new board was presented and the most turbulent period for Samfundet was over. Samfundet has progressively become a more stable organisation. In 2004 Sam­fundet claimed to have fifty-six members, according to the new chairman Henrik Hallgren the membership had in 2007 risen to around 150 members, and according to later reports from the organisation it has, at the time of writing (2014), around 350 members (Gregorius 2008: interview Erik). Samfundet was registered as a religious organisation in 2007, which led to some unsubstantiated claims from both Swedish Pagans and from abroad that it was now possible to conduct legally binding Heathen marriages and funerals. However, being registered as a religious organisation in Sweden is, after 2000, just another way of being registered as a non-profit organisation. In order for a religious organisation to have the right to conduct legally valid marriages, 3,000 members are needed, something no Pagan organisation in Sweden comes close to having. Samfundet is important not only because it is the largest organisation for Heathens in Sweden, but also because it in many ways defined the shape that Heathenism would take in Sweden. The most important aspects of this process were an emerging view of Heathenism as an ecological, democratic, and antiracist form of religion. Samfundet used to have on its website a so called nid page, nid being an Old Norse form of cursing, directed towards anyone who abused Old Norse religion, primarily for racist reasons. This “curse” was not only used by Samfundet but also by other groups in Sweden who believed that it was important for modern Heathenism to take a clear stand against racism and xenophobia. Today the nid page no longer exists, but the rejection of racial interpretations is still a part of Samfundet’s beliefs. The reason for discontinuing the nid page was that it was seen as as a form of curse and too aggressive towards those who had other ideas about ethnicity and race (interview Erik).

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In 2000 a yearly tradition was established, in which a public blot ritual is held around Easter at old Uppsala, where an old Swedish Pagan temple is believed to have been located. If this tradition will lead to a more unified Heathen community in Sweden remains to be seen, but it has generated some media attention and is one of the few Pagan public happenings in Sweden that continues to take place regularly. Samfundet changed its name in 2010 to Samfundet Forn Sed Sverige (Assembly for Ancient Customs, Sweden). This reflected a growing rejection in Samfundet of the term Asatru. Over the years, Samfundet has also become less concentrated in the Stockholm area, and today most of the board members live in other parts of Sweden. Despite never being a large organisation, they have become a stable element of the alternative religious scene in Sweden. Their cultural presence can be gauged from the fact that they on several occasions have hosted worship sessions on Swedish public radio, which at times has led to critique from local Christian media. Samfälligheten för Nordisk Sed Samfälligheten för Nordisk Sed (The Community for Nordic Ways), founded in 1997, in 2000 became the first Swedish Heathen organisation to be registered as a religious organisation. Samfälligheten was always more closed to the public than Samfundet and has never cooperated with other Pagan organisations. Just as Samfundet, they have taken a stand against racist and ethnic interpretations of Heathenism. Samfälligheten was more oriented towards folklore and claimed that the “old ways” were still alive in Sweden. Any attempts to present them as part of a larger Heathen milieu have been vehemently rejected by Samfälligheten, since they do not recognise other organisations as being genuine Heathens. While they claim to be the largest Heathen organisation in Sweden they seem to have only at most a handful of members. Nätverket Forn Sed Nätverket Forn Sed was founded in 2004 and throughout its existence consisted primarily of former members of Samfundet who left after the conflicts in that organisation. Nätverket was organised as a decentralised organisation consisting of a federation of various godeord (congregations) that acted more or less independently. All had, however, to agree to some common principles, similar to those in Samfundet, regarding democracy and anti-racism. Nätverket was most active during the years 2004–2006 and has never had more than around fifty members. They have had local groups in Malmö, Stockholm, Gothenburg, and Umeå. Nätverket was involved in starting a national group for homo-, bi- and transsexual followers of Heathenism, called Bilröst. The project

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later continued as part of Samfundet. Around 2007, as Samfundet was becoming more stable, most members from Nätverket Forn Sed re-joined them and today Nätverket Forn Sed is disbanded (interview Erik). Norröna Samfundet Norröna Samfundet was founded in 2000 as Nordiska Ringen (the Nordic Ring). It was, in contrast to most other forms of Heathenism in Sweden, based on an ethnic view of Heathenism, which was understood as a primordial expression of the Nordic soul. This led to accusations of racism from other Pagans. In 2002 the name Nordiska Ringen was changed to Norröna Samfundet and for a while it was the leading Swedish Heathen organisation due to Samfundet’s problems. In the same year, it became the second Swedish Pagan organisation to be ­officially registered as a religious organisation. Former members of Sveriges Asatrosamfund began to join, and soon the debate regarding the issue of ethnic contra non-ethnic forms of Heathenism became a pressing issue. The former members of Sveriges Asatrosamfund demanded that Norröna take a stand against racism and xenophobia. Norröna Samfundet refused, and several members left because of this. Rumours about leading members being connected to various far-right organisations also became more intense and in 2005 Norröna Samfundet was disbanded and its website closed down (Gregorius 2008: 113–115). Swedish Heathen Front The Swedish Heathen Front was a small group formed around 1996. The Swe­ dish Heathen Front was a Swedish chapter of the Allgermanische Heidnische Front that was founded by, among others, the Norwegian Black Metal musician Varg Vikernes, who in 1993 had been sentenced to twenty-one years of imprisonment for murder. In prison, Vikernes converted to a race-oriented form of Paganism that was to become the ideological base for the Heathen Front. Although never a large group, probably never more than around ten members in total, they published their own magazine, Budkaveln, that included articles about Old Norse religion and ariosophy. In 2005 both the Swedish Heathen Front and the Allgermanische Heidnische Front were closed down. Heathen Front is one of the few examples of racially based interpretations of Heathenism that have taken the form of an organisation. There have been plans to found a new group with a similar ideology, but at the time of writing these attempts have not been carried out (Gregorius 2008: 116–117).

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The Number of Adherents of Heathenism Although there have been no quantitative studies carried out in Sweden regarding the number of followers of Heathenism, the total membership most probably does not exceed a thousand. Looking at the numbers in the different organisations, none, except Samfundet, have had more than 100 members. It is likely that the most active followers of Heathenism in Sweden today amount to no more than fifty or fewer individuals, who tend to shift organisations from time to time, creating a permanent milieu in terms of religious activity but rather flexible in terms of organisations. A similar trend is apparent in other forms of Paganism as well. The number of solitary followers is, however, dif­ ficult to estimate and there are also smaller local groups of followers of Heathenism, which have chosen to be private. Even taking such non-affiliated Heathens into account, nothing suggests that any large number of people are involved in the Heathen milieu (Gregorius 2008: 119).

Wicca

The basis of what was to be the first Swedish Wiccan coven, called Skogsstjärna (after the Swedish name for the Arctic starflower, trientalis europaea), was founded in Stockholm in 1987 by Laila Wiberg (1956–2002). The group was in 1994 re-established as Court of Joy. Court of Joy focused on Celtic traditions and had a structured hierarchy with three degrees and a High Priestess who lead the coven. Rather than focusing on the God and the Goddess, as is common in Wicca, Court of Joy has a more polytheistic approach and sees gods and goddesses as sentient beings and not as manifestations of a higher unity. One of Court of Joy’s most original innovations was their work with dragons that were seen as entities of the Earth (Levander unpublished). During the 1990s, Laila Wiberg was the most influential Wiccan leader in Sweden, and it is mainly from her tradition that other Swedish initiatory covens derive their lineages. Wiberg was opposed to the idea of self-initiation and claimed that a person who was not properly initiated could not have access to the mysteries. It is, however, unclear whether Wiberg herself was initiated in any pre-existing Wiccan tradition as neither Court of Joy, or any coven derived from it, have been able to state clearly where or if Wiberg was initiated. Her lineage is not recognised by Gardnerian or Alexandrian traditions (interview Pandora). It is hence most likely that the form of Wicca practised by Court of Joy was created in Sweden by Wiberg herself. Wiberg would lead Court of Joy until her death in 2002. Apart from Court of Joy, there are at the time of writing at least four other covens directly derived from this group. Two of these are

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directly affiliated with Court of Joy, one located in the city of Eskilstuna, west of Stockholm, and the other in the city of Stockholm itself. The two other covens are organisationally independent of Court of Joy but base their teachings and form of initiation on this group (Levander unpublished). Court of Aine was founded in 1995 in Gothenburg and is the second oldest coven in Sweden. Originally part of Court of Joy, they broke with the mother organisation in the late 1990s and have developed in a different direction. Court of Aine also holds a polytheistic theology but places a larger focus on the God and the Goddess and the cyclical order of life, becoming more oriented towards a more traditional form of Wicca (Levander unpublished). From Court of Aine one daughter coven, Rönnmåne, has been formed in Trollhättan in the west of Sweden. Apart from Court of Joy and Court of Aine and their daughter covens, smaller covens and circles have been founded in different parts of Sweden, but few have managed to remain active during any longer period of time. Most followers of Wicca in Sweden are solitary and there seems to be a growing interest, especially among young people, in the religion, but if those who now are solitary will join a coven in the future or remain solitary remains to be seen. There is a smaller Gardnerian presence, mostly consisting of people initiated in Norway. The Gardnerians have remained more private and have usually not taken any public role as representatives of Wicca. Based on interviews with Gardnerians in Sweden many, just like in Norway, seem to be members of Ordo Templi Orientis (interview Pandora).

Other Forms of Paganism

At the time of writing there are solitary members in Sweden who follow other forms of Paganism such as Hellenismos, i.e., attempts to reconstruct Ancient Greek religion, or Pagan Druidism, but there exist no formal organisations devoted to these Pagan currents. In the 1990s a small group of Druids was organised as Druids of Scania in the South of Sweden. The centre was located at Hässleholm where the leader lived; the same person also owned a small Pagan/ New Age store called Månkällan (The Lunar Source). After internal conflicts, the Druids of Scania were divided into two sections. There is no evidence that any of the two groups has survived. Around 2002 an attempt was made by the former leader of the druid order to form a Celtic Faith Community similar to Sveriges Asatrosamfund (e-mail Karl, 2 March 2007). Nothing came of these plans, and at the moment Druids are primarily found as more or less solitary practitioners, or as members of international organisations such as

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Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids that do not have any local congregations in Sweden.

Pan-Pagan organisations

Just as there are organisations for people who belong to specific Pagan traditions, there are umbrella organisations that seek to create the opportunity for meetings and cooperation between Pagans from different paths and groups. Rather than having one organisation that organises pagans nationwide, such as the Pagan Federation in England, the Swedish Pagan milieu is more oriented towards local groups that act independently of each other. Usually, such local groups organise the various so-called pubmoots that exist in Sweden. Pubmoots began in England as a way for Pagans to meet in an informal setting. The two oldest and largest pubmoots in Sweden are in Stockholm and Gothenburg. There are also examples of more organised forms of umbrella organisations for Pagans of different paths. The oldest is Hedniska Nätverket Vitka (The Heathen Network Vitka), founded in 1987 as Swedish Wicca Association, later renamed Swedish Vitka Association. While open to people of various faiths, they have been criticised by other Pagans for being too oriented toward a New Age-influenced interpretation of Paganism. Pagan Federation Sweden is not a local organisation but has its primary base in Stockholm. Pagan Federation has an influence that is much greater than is warranted by the small number of members, around ten individuals nationwide. Pagan Federation organised yearly Pagan conferences in Sweden in the years 1998–1999 and 2005–2007. Pagan Federation was the organiser but worked with local Pagan groups in order to set up these meetings. Today the organisation is small and seems to be based primarily in Stockholm and Uppsala. Göteborgs Hedniska Nätverk-GHN (Gothenburg’s Pagan Network) was founded in 2006. GHN has held various social gatherings such as a Pan-Pagan Lupercalia celebration that included rituals and lectures. GHN does not officially hold pubmoots, as these were established before GHN was created. In practice, however, one can say that the pubmoot in Gothenburg is being organised by GHN as the person responsible for it is also the founder of GHN. GHN has also started to organise Pagan conferences in the way that Pagan Federation used to do.

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Paganism and the Internet

During the last ten years the Internet has come to play an increasing role for the development of Pagan networks. The Internet has not only made it easier to establish contacts with other Pagans or to get information about different paths, but has also created a community where the physical locality is of a lesser importance and it is possible for people to relatively easily create a religious identity without having to join a specific group. Still, forums that deal exclusively with Pagan traditions and are independent of a specific organisation have had a difficult time establishing themselves. For a while there was a Wiccan web community called Cerridwen, but it closed down in 2008. Instead, most Pagans tend to use Facebook as a means of communication, rather than creating their own communities.

Conclusion

At the time of writing (2014) Paganism in Sweden is a marginal movement if one considers the number of active members in Pagan organisations. There is very little indication of any substantial growth at the moment. While new organisations appear and new people are attracted, other organisations close down and apart from Samfundet Forn Sed (with only some 350 members) there are no larger functioning Pagan organisations. The majority of Pagans in Sweden are most likely solitary, i.e., they are not members of any organisation, either by choice or because there are no other Pagans sharing their interests where they live. There is little information available on how many these solitary practitioners are, what forms of beliefs that are most common among them, or if Paganism is a world view that a person typically holds over an extended period of time or merely as a phase in a more wide-ranging spiritual quest. There seem to be difficulties for Pagan organisations to maintain any form of activity over a longer period of time, and most of these groups tend to be short-lived, existing only for a couple of years and then being disbanded. Many Pagans seem to remain within the Pagan community even after their original organisation is disbanded, either forming new groups, joining others, or acting in a more solitary manner. The Pagan milieu has thus a growing number of people who are active as participants in Pagan activities but who are not members of any organisation. At present, Paganism in Sweden is in an early phase and is still trying to establish itself as an actor on the Swedish religious scene. The future for Swedish Paganism is thus hard to determine, and the

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question which groups and ideas that will have a lasting effect on the milieu remains open. Some basic conclusions can be drawn. One is the dominance of Heathenism and references to Old Norse religion. So far, Heathens are the most organised of the various Pagan religions represented in Sweden. The scene is also fairly democratic with few charismatic leaders. Doctrinally, many Pagans in Sweden, both Wiccans and Heathens, tend to have a polytheistic view of the divine and reject any idea of a unified or predominant deity. While it is not rare to be a member of several organisations, it seems to be more common to be a member of only one group. Today the greatest challenge Paganism faces in Sweden is how to maintain and create organisations that can take care of and engage those interested in Paganism.

Unpublished Sources

Interview Erik 18 February 2014. Interview Pandora 12 September 2008. Mail Karl 3 February 2007.



References

Gregorius, Fredrik, Modern Asatro; Att kontruera etnisk och kulturell identitet, Lund: Lunds Universitet, 2008. ———. “Modern Heathenism in Sweden: A Case Study in the Creation of a Traditional Religion”, in: Kathryn Rountree (ed.), Pagan and Native Faith Movements in Europe, New York and Oxford: Berghahn Books, 2015, 64–85. Levander, Caroline, “Wiccas historia Sverige”, unpublished manuscript, no date. Skott, Fredrik, Asatro i tiden, Göteborg: Språk och folkminnesinstitutet, 2000.

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Chapter 48

Pansophy in Sweden Fabian Linde The events associated with John Amos Comenius’ Swedish Pansophical ven­ture transpired during a decisive period in the political and intellectual ­history of Northern Europe. In the course of the seventeenth century, Sweden developed into a Great Power with adjoining territories in what in our day constitutes Finland, the Baltic States, Poland, and northern Germany. As a result, the Baltic Sea nearly became a Swedish inland sea (mare clausum). During the reign of Gustavus Adolphus (1594–1632, reigned 1611–1632), Sweden entered European power politics in earnest as a defender of Protestantism, with troops being disembarked on the continent in the already raging Thirty Years’ War. After the sudden and unexpected death of the king on the field of battle, a regency council was set up, as the heiress to the throne, Christina (1626–1689, reigned 1644–1654), was too young to carry the sceptre. Its leader was Axel Oxenstierna (1583–1654), generally recognised as one of the most skilled and shrewd statesmen of the age. But not only the geopolitical developments turned out to be decisive for the future, as the authorities also implemented broad administrative, educational, and ecclesiastical reforms in order to render the young state more effective. Although the upstart Northern Kingdom was relatively uncultured and of an unrefined nature in comparison with the great historical monarchies on the continent, the circumstance that it was less weighed down by tradition and lacked strong independent institutions that might challenge the consolidation of state power brought the advantage that it was quite malleable and lent itself to tough reforms implemented from above. The two most important exceptions were the nobility and the priesthood, whose interests sometimes diverged from that of the Crown. Ever since the adoption of Lutheranism, the Church of Sweden had strived to establish itself as the leading ideological body in the Kingdom, gaining far-reaching rights to implement its teachings, as well as to enforce adherence to Lutheran Orthodoxy among the general population. While it did on the whole live in a close relationship with the secular powers, functioning as a guarantor of state consolidation and carrying out various administrative duties, there were times when its position of power was challenged by members of the nobility who were more open to unorthodox ideas brought by various European currents of thought. This is the case with the period under discussion, which coincides with the first

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significant peak of Swedish esotericism. It was advanced by loosely linked networks of individuals committed to esoteric teachings. The individuals involved, if admittedly constituting only a small minority, were in many cases pioneers within their respective field of activity, who exerted a certain degree of influence at court, within the expanding industrial complex, in higher education, and even in ecclesiastical circles. The central and strategic positioning of these individuals can in other words be said to have compensated for their limited numbers. Nonetheless, as was to be expected, their activity was significantly hampered by being constantly monitored by the theological authorities. It was into this volatile atmosphere that the internationally renowned reformist pedagogue Comenius stepped in the early 1640s, be­stowing on Swedish spiritual life what arguably amounts to one of the most significant impulses of the age.

Comenius and the Unity of Brethren

The Moravian theologian and pedagogue Jan Amos Komenský (1592–1670) is better known under the Latinised form of his name: John Amos Comenius. This deeply religious man was secretary, spiritual counsellor, and eventually last bishop of the Bohemian Unity of Brethren (Jednota bratrská or Unitas Fratrum), a Christian community forced into exile and eventually dispersed in connection with the violent re-Catholicisation of their native regions during the course of the seventeenth century. The Unity of Brethren, whose ideological fathers were, among others, John Hus (1369–1415) and Petr Chelčitský (ca 1390–1460), acted as custodians of a comparatively tolerant and undogmatic form of Christian piety, adhering to the principle that in essentials unity should prevail, in non-essentials, liberty, and in all things, charity. Their teachings were centred on a few central articles of faith, the particulars open to the individual to supplement as he or she saw fit. At the basis of their attitude towards the world and its inhabitants lay an emphasis on universal edification, which is why it is hardly surprising that it was in the capacity of pedagogue that Comenius was to gain his enduring reputation. To this Christian heritage Comenius added a comprehensive Humanist erudition and a predilection for Hermeticism. The latter is discernible not only in the repeated references to the venerable Trismegistus that are scattered throughout his writings, but also in his most popular book, the richly illustrated Orbis sensualium pictus (The Visible World in Pictures), which is structured around the Hermetic principles of the four elements, and the triune interrelation of God, man, and cosmos, and tries to show the interrelatedness of all things. In addition, his vast literary output is marked by a utopian and apocalyptic streak. As Comenius experienced

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numerous personal hardships during the course of his life, such as forced exile and the loss of his wife and children at the hands of the plague, his worldview came to reflect the rift between the “Light of Christ” and the confused ways of men, an experience dealt with in his consolatory masterpiece Labyrint svĕta i ráj srdce (The Labyrinth of the World and the Paradise of the Heart), written in 1623.

Pansophy and the Rosicrucian Connection

While Comenius is chiefly remembered as a pioneer of modern education, his pedagogy cannot be dissociated from the greater whole in which it was embedded, namely Pansophy (Gk. παν, “full”, “entire” and σοφια, “wisdom”). Although the term had been used before him, it was Comenius who more than any other came to define it. In his hands it became an integrative manner of understanding, which would counteract not only the growing compartmentalisation of the various spheres of knowledge based on the analytical and mechanistic paradigm that was becoming increasingly influential at the time, but also the one-sided fideism and dogmatism of traditional Church doctrine. Its aim was to further a full comprehension of the divine order of things, as disclosed in the three scriptures: the book of nature (Liber naturae), the book of man (Liber hominis), and the book of God (Liber Dei or Liber revelatus), and to integrate science, religion, and human action into an all-encompassing synthesis. On the basis of this truly holistic paradigm, Comenius strived to demonstrate the interconnectedness of all things and to lead them back to their divine source. At its root lay a Hermetic Naturphilosophie that was to deeply influence Georg Stiernhielm (1598–1672), who is traditionally regarded as the founding father of Swedish literature (Nordström 1924). Comenius’ Swedish involvement must above all be viewed as part of an endea­vour to instigate a universal renovation of human affairs (reformatio generalis). Comenius outlined how an emphasis on universal knowledge would change the face of the social life of mankind, which in his view had lost its sound foundation. More specifically, Pansophy was intended to become the foundation of a new social order that was to arise in the wake of the Thirty Years’ War, which had devastated large parts of Central and Northern Europe, and torn society apart. To this end, he worked hard to promote a reconciliation between the warring churches and proposed as well the creation of various international institutions that would help regulate educational, political, and ecclesiastical affairs, and thus ensure lasting peace among the nations. In this endeavour, Comenius was inspired by such thinkers as Francis Bacon and

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Tommaso Campanella. More importantly, his reformatory calling received its decisive spiritual impulse from the Rosicrucian manifestos, as he himself attested in his late work Clamores Eliae (The Exhortations of Elijah), in which he mentions coming into contact with these texts even previous to their publication (Comenius 1992). Later in life, Comenius would keep up a correspondence with Johann Valentin Andreae (1586–1654), the co-writer of the Rosicrucian pamphlets, who in a letter passed the Rosicrucian reformatory legacy on to him, or as Comenius later expressed it, bestowed on him “the flaming torch” (Blekastad 1969: 153; Brecht 1988). The universal reformation in the sign of the Rosy Cross was a reform movement that in a sense carried forth what the Protestant Reformation had set out, but failed, to accomplish. If the latter in its initial impulse may be considered as being an attempt to free the common man from the priestly yoke and the church hierarchy and to refurbish him with the possibility of an unmediated individual experience of the divine, it had eventually given rise to an intolerant dogmatism and confinement to the letter of the scriptural text. If Luther had originally championed the “priesthood of all believers”, i.e., self-authority, fierce theological infighting over dogmas and rituals had ensued with the result that the church had petrified. Among the select few, there was a sense that the renewing forces of the Reformation had been neutralised on most fronts. There was also a fear that something similar would happen with the budding sciences, whose relation to established religion was a matter of great controversy. It is in this light that the Rosicrucian Fama Fraternitatis (Call of the Brotherhood), published in 1614, ought to be viewed: … the only wise and merciful God [has] in these latter days … raised enlightened and ingenious men, who might partly renew the spotted and imperfect arts to perfection; so that finally man might thereby understand his own nobleness and worth, what the nature of the microcosmus is, and how far his art extends in nature. […] To such an intent of a general reformation, the most godly, Christian and highly illuminated Father, our Brother C.R., a German, the head and founder of our Fraternity, has much and long time laboured. (Fama Fraternitatis 72, 74; my translation from the original German – F. L.) It seems safe to say that Comenius himself represented the type of “enlightened and ingenious man” to whom the quoted passage makes allusion. The ultimate goal of his project, and the means towards its realisation, were detailed in De rerum humanarum emendatione consultatio catholica (A General Consultation on the Reform of Human Affairs), an immense work in seven

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parts that was never completed, but which brought up for discussion all the relevant aspects of the ambitious endeavour to reform human society in accordance with the Pansophical programme. Earlier on, Comenius had also written a number of minor introductions to Pansophy, the most important being Prodromus pansophiae (A Preamble to Pansophy, 1639) and Via lucis (The Way of Light, 1641/2; printed 1668), which Will-Erich Peuckert once called a “Comenian Fama” (Gilly 1992: 17).

Comenius’ Swedish Enterprise

It was Comenius’ friend, the Scottish ecumenist John Dury (1596–1680), who drew the Swedes’ attention to Comenius. Dury had worked in Sweden during a two-year period for the purposes of promoting religious tolerance, before being banned from the country. He had come to Sweden in 1636 invited by Louis De Geer (1587–1652), a Calvinist immigrant from Wallonia, who had earned a considerable fortune by tapping into the rich iron ores of Sweden with the help of Walloon expertise, and had turned out to be indispensable to the Swedish Crown as key provider of firearms. In 1641, Comenius himself was invited by De Geer to come to Sweden. Comenius declined, however, for several reasons. First, he did not want to neglect his obligations toward the Unity of Brethren. Second, he was afraid of encountering envy and resentment, and third, he did not consider himself equipped for restructuring the Swedish schools, the task with which he was presented. However, during the winter of 1641–1642, Comenius and his friends in England continued their correspondence with De Geer and his representatives. De Geer then offered Comenius to come to live at his estate in a private capacity and work on Pansophy. Although this did not come about, De Geer eventually became Comenius’ personal Maecenas. In due course, Comenius gave in to the offer to come to Sweden. In August 1642, he arrived there for the first time, on the invitation of the Chancellor Axel Oxenstierna and De Geer. He was at this time hardly unknown in Sweden, as his highly popular Janua linguarum (Gateway to Languages) had been published in a Swedish edition a few years earlier. The tutor of Crown Princess Christina, Johannes Matthiae Gothus (1592–1670), a devoted irenicist and ecumenist, used it in teaching her Latin. Comenius first travelled to Finspång, the industrial town where the iron foundry of De Geer was located, and then to Örebro where he met Matthiae and Christina. He then travelled on to Stockholm where he met Oxenstierna in September 1642. Their lengthy discussions are vividly described in Comenius’ autobiographical sketches (Comenius 1975). In view of the fact that the chancellor in the main was heavily occupied, the four days that he devoted to Comenius must be said

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to have been a remarkably long time. On the second day of their negotiations, Oxenstierna unexpectedly informed Comenius that the latter had been assigned with the task of reforming the schools of the Kingdom on behalf of the Crown and with the approval of the Church. Comenius was overwhelmed by this proposal, which implied a great deal of responsibility. He seems at this stage to have been wary of settling in Sweden as he had the words of his friend Dury in fresh memory: ‘The [Swedish] people do not like foreigners, and do not approve of any improvement, but quickly become suspicious’ (Blekastad 1975: 16). Nonetheless, Comenius reluctantly accepted and Oxenstierna commissioned De Geer to finance the undertaking. It was decided that Comenius should take up residence in Elbing (Elbląg) in West Prussia, at that time under Swedish rule. During the last day of the negotiations, the discussion turned to the subject of Pansophy. It turned out, to Comenius’ great surprise, that not only was Oxenstierna familiar with the covert Pansophical teachings, he had also personally read A Preamble to Pansophy, the Pansophical manifesto. During the course of the conversation, Oxenstierna expressed his general doubts about the Pansophical project, not least concerning its viability at a time when Europe lay in ruins after decades of ravaging war (Comenius 1975: 77–78). Even so, he pinned great hopes on Comenius, whose “sparks”, he said, would one day flame a fire that would spread from the North all over Europe (Comenius 1975: 76). Prior to leaving the Swedish heartland, Comenius also met with Johan Skytte (1577–1645), the chancellor of Uppsala University, who was favourably inclined towards him. Thus began Comenius’ pedagogical commission for the Swedish State. The contact with the Swedish authorities was carried out mainly by correspondence, or through intermediaries, but throughout the years Comenius also paid a few visits to the Swedish heartland in person. Although De Geer to all intents and purposes seems to have supported Comenius’ Pansophical strivings, the two men had different views on how best to proceed. De Geer decided that Comenius for the time being had to put Pansophy aside and concentrate on the school books in order to keep the Swedish authorities satisfied. It appears that De Geer early on had identified a concern which in time would grow into a substantial problem for Comenius. Comenius for his part was convinced that the pedagogical works depended on the final elaboration of Pansophy, and he was encouraged in this direction in letters from his friend Samuel Hartlib (ca. 1600–1662) in England. Being faithful to this view, Comenius wrote a Pansophical outline that was printed in Danzig in 1643 under the title Pansophiae diatyposis, and moreover commenced work on his great Consultatio, a work which he sustained for the greater part of his life. In Elbing he completed its first part, entitled Excitatorium universale, later re-titled Panegersia

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(Universal Awakening). He also secretly distributed a few essential Pansophical writings, above all A Preamble to Panso­phy, among key individuals in Sweden who could be deemed supportive of the project. He also sent the yet unpublished and covert Way of Light to Johannes Matthiae, who displayed a great deal of interest in Pansophy. Even Oxenstierna received this text and was recommended to read chapters 12–15, which treat of the reorganisation of society (Blekastad 1977: 136). On another occasion, Comenius sent no less than twenty copies of the recently published Pansophiae diatyposis to De Geer for further distribution, with instructions that it be given to the Chancellor and Matthiae. Yet Comenius was soon challenged in his endeavours by numerous setbacks. A crucial incident occurred early on when Johannes Matthiae, newly installed Bishop of Strängnäs, presented a proposal for a new church regulation, entitled Idea boni ordinis in ecclesia Christi (Matthiae 1644). It was an attempt at introducing a more tolerant approach in Church affairs, which was, however, ultimately rejected. It reportedly echoes, in some parts word for word, the regulation of the Unity of Brethren and also the history of the Unity entitled De bono unitatis, which Comenius had sent Matthiae in 1643 (Blekastad 1977: 140). This event coincided with Christina’s ascension to the throne, even though Oxenstierna continued to uphold a leading position in the country. It deserves mention that different sources give witness to contradictory views regarding Christina’s attitude towards Comenius. At times, she would allegedly utter deprecative statements about him in public. However, the fact that Matthiae, in whom she confided, to all intents and purposes supported Comenius ought to have played a significant part in making her favourably disposed towards him. As is well known, she was generally receptive to various European currents of thought, even having the courage to invite Descartes, who by some was accused of being an atheist. Christina nurtured plans of making Stockholm into a centre of European learning and culture. Matters became even more complicated when Comenius’ participation in an ecumenical conference in Toruń in 1645 led to (entirely unfounded) suspicions among the Swedish clergy that he was a covert Calvinist. Comenius was summoned to Stockholm in 1646 to explain himself, but a clash with Oxen­ stierna was unavoidable. That same ominous year, a court trial was enacted against Friedrich Menius (1593/1594–1659), who under the pseudonym of Salomon Majus had authored two books entitled Pandora Sophica (1639) and Consensus Hermetico-Mosaicus (Menius 1644). The former, which was preceded by a dedication to Crown Princess Christina, put forward a heterodox philosophy of nature and cosmogony inspired by Comenius’ writings. The ­outcome of both of these events was that the opinion of the Swedish clergy irreversibly turned against Comenius, a development which in turn influenced the powerful Oxenstierna. Nevertheless, despite the fact that his reputation

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had been tarnished, Comenius nurtured plans to stay in Sweden for the winter. Oxenstierna, however, who seems to have lost his confidence in him, opposed this decision and forced Comenius to leave the country. Before doing so, however, Comenius met the queen once more, who requested that he should continue his work on Pansophy and move to Sweden, something which De Geer, who was present at the audience, at once offered to support financially. For some unknown reason, this, however, did not come about. In 1647, the orthodox Lutheran priesthood tried to consolidate its ideological position by attempting to have the Lutheran Formula of Concord accepted by the Riksdag of the Estates, which would effectively have put an end to the ecumenical movement once and for all. Even though this attempt failed, Matthiae was attacked and had to defend himself. Comenius’ relation to De Geer still held out, but the Pansophical project was seriously threatened when Comenius was accused of not fulfilling his pedagogical duties. Even Matthiae sided with the critics, who were unsatisfied with the pedagogical works that Come­nius presented to his commissioners, maintaining that they were only reworkings of older material. These charges were not entirely fair, given that Comenius actually did produce the school books and the pedagogical manuals that had been commissioned of him, including the Methodus linguarum novissima (The Latest Method of Language Teaching), which is considered one of his most progressive pedagogical works by specialists in the field. In 1648, Comenius moved from Elbing to Leszno in Poland. The following year Sweden received a new regulation of the educational system, elaborated by Matthiae, among others. It has been claimed that it was based on that of the Unity of Brethren, but this issue demands further research. That same year (1649), Comenius again returned to Sweden, on Christina’s demand, in connection with her plans to found an academy of sciences in Stockholm. Comenius received a renewed invitation to stay there, but also this time it came to nought. Upon Descartes’ death in Sweden the following year, the plans to found an academy in Stockholm were ultimately abandoned. In 1650, Comenius’ work for the Swedish state came to an end, and his ­interactions with Sweden became more sporadic from now on. One should mention, however, that for several weeks in 1651, Comenius socialised with Bengt Skytte (1614–1683) in Sáros-Patak in Hungary. Bengt, the son of the above-mentioned Johan Skytte, was a devoted Pansophist and Hermeticist, who in 1666 would attempt to found a Sophopolis in Brandenburg, which was to be centred around a universal college (Collegium universale) (Grape 1936: 327; Husén 2003). During the 1650s, the circumstances in Sweden changed drastically. In 1652, De Geer, still supportive of Comenius, passed away. His son, Laurens De Geer

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(1614–1666) continued in his father’s footsteps by being Comenius’ patron. In 1654, Oxenstierna died as well and Queen Christina abdicated, emigrated, and converted to Catholicism, first in secret and then openly, after having held secret negotiations with the Jesuits. Through this move, she entirely discarded the legacy of her father and of the powerful Oxenstierna family who were the defenders of Lutheran Orthodoxy. Her cousin then became king of Sweden and is known to history as Charles X Gustavus (1622–1660, reigned 1654–1660). During the following year, Comenius, who still strived to keep up good relations with the Swedish Crown and hoped for its continued support, wrote a pamphlet entitled Panegyricus Carlo Gustavo (In Praise of Charles Gustavus), in which he drew the king’s attention to the plight of his people. In 1656, Comenius was forced to flee Leszno in Poland, where he was residing, and was invited by the Swedish king to stay at his military quarters there. In the end, Comenius decided to leave Poland altogether and instead establish a home in Amsterdam, where he was to remain for the rest of his life.

Legacy

Taking into consideration that Comenius had received a number of enticing offers from various quarters in Europe, reportedly even from Harvard College in New England, it seems surprising that Comenius accepted the Swedish invitation in the first place. This was no doubt in part motivated by the hope that the Swedes, who at that time had become a military and political force to reckon with, would support the return of his people to their native regions, something for which he indeed received guarantees from the Swedish authorities (although they were never met). There were also other, more profound, reasons. What seems to have motivated Comenius above all else was the hope that the Swedish Crown would establish a tolerant realm, in which people of good will would live in peace and charity and be granted the opportunity to freely develop their spiritual potential without fear of persecution. He was spurred in this direction by the prophecies of Christina Poniatowska, which echoed the then widely disseminated predictions about the coming Lion of the North. Sweden was in this connection thought to represent the Northern Kingdom that in the End Times would intervene to defend evangelical Christianity. To this end, Comenius worked carefully on quietly gaining the support and earning the trust of those key individuals who were, or could turn out to be, favourably disposed towards the Christian Pansophy that he hoped would lay at the basis of this renewed society.

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Unfortunately, the truly magnificent potential of Comenius’ visionary project foundered on the political realities of the day, on the intolerance of the Lutheran clergy, and on the petty power struggles that took place between various theological camps. Due to the organised opposition levelled against him, the results of his endeavours remained on the whole marginal, amounting perchance to mere faint echoes of what could have been. In the afterword of his unfinished Consultatio, which was to be dedicated to “the three Northern Kingdoms” of Sweden, Poland, and England, Comenius succinctly summarised the bitter experience that he had gathered from his Swedish involvement: ‘In Sweden […] you seem to protect freedom of conscience abroad whilst restricting it at home’ (Comenius 1991: 84). Yet, must Comenius’ Swedish project necessarily be deemed a complete failure? One of the most influential esotericists of the last century, Rudolf Steiner, is credited with having said that ‘when one wants to obtain an understanding of Swedish history, it is necessary to commence with Comenius’ discussion with chancellor Axel Oxenstierna at the castle in Stockholm’ (Nilsson 1958: 168). This strong statement seems perplexing, given that Comenius’ role in Swedish history is not widely recognised. Yet, upon closer consideration, one can certainly agree with Steiner that the Comenian Pansophical impulse ought to be regarded as a singular event in the Early Modern history of Sweden. Hopefully, future research will uncover exactly what part Comenius played in the reform proposals for new church regulations and for the educational system that were presented during the course of the seventeenth century. No less important will be to grasp what bearing his Pansophical legacy might have in our own time. Perhaps one day the prophetic words of Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz will come true: ‘The time will surely come, Comenius, when all good men will study your works, your hopes and your innermost desires’ (Leibniz 1965).

References

Blekastad, Milada, Comenius: Versuch eines Umrisses von Leben, Werk und Schicksal des Jan Amos Komenský, Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1969. ——— . Menneskenes sak: Om den tjekkiske tenkeren Comenius i kamp om en universal reform av samfunnslivet, Oslo: Gyldendal Norsk Forlag, 1977. ——— . “Geniet i stormaktenes spill: Comenius og Sverige”, Kyrkohistorisk årsskrift (1974), 31–70. ——— . “Introduction”, in: Comenius’ självbiografi: Comenius about himself, Årsböcker i svensk undervisningshistoria, Vol. 131, Yearbook 54:1974, Stockholm: Föreningen för svensk undervisningshistoria, 1975, 11–29.

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Brecht, Martin, “‘Er hat uns die Fackel übergeben …’: Die Bedeutung Johann Valentin Andreaes für Johann Amos Comenius”, in: Das Erbe des Christian Rosenkreuz: Vorträge gehalten anläßlich des Amsterdamer Symposiums 18.-20. November 1986, Johann Valentin Andreae 1586–1986 und die Manifeste der Rosenkreuzerbruderschaft 1614–1616, Amsterdam: In de pelikaan, 1988, 28–47. Čapková, Dagmar, “Comenius and his Ideals: Escape from the Labyrinth”, in: Mark Green­grass, Michael Leslie and Timothy Raylor (eds.), Samuel Hartlib and Universal Reformation: Studies in Intellectual Communication, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994, 75–91. Carlson, Martin E., “Johannes Matthiae and the Development of the Church of Sweden during the First Half of the Seventeenth Century”, Church History, 13:4 (1944), 289–309. Comenius, Jan Amos, Comenius’ självbiografi: Comenius about himself, Årsböcker i svensk undervisningshistoria, Vol. 131, Yearbook 54:1974, Stockholm: Föreningen för svensk undervisningshistoria, 1975. ——— . Prodromus Pansophiae: Vorläufer der Pansophie, original text with translation into German and comments by Herbert Hornstein, Düsseldorf: Pädagogischer Verlag Schwann, 1963. ——— . “Clamores Eliae”, in: Dílo Jana Amose Komenského, vol. 23, Prague: Academia, 1992. Comenius, Johan Amos, Pannuthesia or Universal Warning, addressed in God’s holy name to all who may participate in the execution of policies for the salvation of the world, A Universal Deliberation on the Reform of Human Affairs, Part Seven, translated by A.M.O. Dobbie, Shipston-on-Stour: Peter I. Drinkwater, 1991. Dílo, Jana Amose Komenského, Johannis Amos Comenii Opera omnia, ed. Antonín Škarka, Prague: Academia, 1969. Fama Fraternitatis: Oudste manifest der Rozenkruisers Broederschap bewerkt aan de hand van teruggevonden manuscripten door Pleun van der Kooij, met een inleiding over ontstaan en geschiedenis van de Manifesten der Rozenkruisers door Carlos Gilly, Haarlem: Rozekruis Pers, 1998. Gilly, Carlos, “Comenius’ Via Lucis in het teken van het Rozenkruis. ‘per crucem ad lucem, rosis tamen solatiorum dei refocillata’: Door het Kruis tot het Licht, Verkwikt door de Rozen der Vertroostingen Gods”, preface to Johannes Amos Comenius, Via Lucis: De Weg van het licht, Amsterdam: In de pelikaan, 1992, 11–31. Göransson, Sven, “Comenius och Sverige 1642–1648”, Lychnos (1957–1958), 102–137. Grape, Anders, “Comenius, Bengt Skytte och Royal Society”, Lychnos (1936), 319–330. Husén, Tosten [sic.], “Comenius and Sweden, and Bengt Skytte’s Sophopolis”, Scandi­ navian Journal of Educational Research 47: 4 (2003), 387–398. Karlsson, Blanka, Comenius und sein Werk in Schweden 1630–2000, Acad. Diss., 2nd ed., Norrköping: Blanka Pragensis, 2008.

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Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm, “Elegy on the Death of Comenius (1671)”, The Educational Forum, 29: 3 (1965), 274. Lindroth, Sten, Paracelsismen i Sverige till 1600-talets mitt, Uppsala: Lychnos, 1943. ——— . Svensk lärdomshistoria: Stormaktstiden, Stockholm: Norstedt, 1975. Matthiae, Johannes, Idea boni ordinis in ecclesia Christi: In anniversaria synodo Streng­ nensi loco orationis introductoriae ad episcopatum, Strängnäs: 1644. Menius, Friedrich, Consensvs hermetico-mosaicus: Von dem wahren Anfange aller siechtigen vndt vnsiechtigen dingen, sodan auch von der warhafften einigen Universal Materi des ... höhesten Arcani der gantzen Weldt … Aus beiden Liechtern, der Natur vndt Gnaden, / gestellet durch Salomonem Maium, Stockholm: 1644. Neval, Daniel A., Comenius’ Pansophie: Die dreifache Offenbarung Gottes in Schrift, Natur und Vernunft, Unvollendete Habilitationsschrift, Zürich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 2007. Nilsson, Rut, “Die Rosenkreuzerströmung in Schweden”, Blätter für Anthroposophie und Mitteilungen aus der Anthroposophischen Bewegung (1958), 168–169. Nordström, Johan, “Inledning”, in: Georg Stiernhielm. Samlade skrifter: Filosofiska fragment, Stockholm: Svenska vitterhetssamfundet, 1924. Piaget, Jean, “Jan Amos Comenius”, Prospects 23:1/2 (1993), 173–196. Yates, Frances A., “Comenius and the Rosicrucian Rumour in Bohemia”, in: The Rosi­ crucian Enlightenment, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1972, 156–170.

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Chapter 49 Paracelsianism in Denmark

Paracelsianism in Denmark Jole Shackelford

The Luther of Physicians

Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenhaim (1493–1541), known to most by the cognomen Paracelsus, was a contemporary of Martin Luther and, like Luther, was caught up in the religious and political ferment of the early sixteenth century. Largely an autodidact, Paracelsus learned medicine from his father, who was a physician in the mining district of Villach in Austria, and from years of wandering, perhaps studying for brief periods at universities in Vienna and Ferrara, but mainly acquiring knowledge and skills as a field surgeon and itinerant healer. But, he was also a biblical exegete and lay preacher, for which he came under suspicion during the suppression of the German Peasants’ Rebellion in 1525. Paracelsus wrote extensive treatises on medical, alchemical, astrological, prophetic, and theological subjects. These writings, many of which were published posthumously, but many of which circulated widely in northern Germany in manuscript, convey a spiritualised, radically heterodox vision of human nature that is grounded in his novel chemical physiology and pathology and close reading of scripture. For this reason, his ideas appealed to a wide audience, who drew diversely on his enthusiasm for chemical semiotics and therapeutics, his radical political ideas, and his conception of the relationship between the human and the divine. Paracelsianism, as the further development and application of his ideas is named, is thus as much a part of medical history as of religious history – especially esoteric history – and must be considered in both medical-philosophical and religious contexts. Indeed, the ideological foundation for Rosicrucian thought is Paracelsian religion, which will be considered separately in the chapter on Rosicrucianism in Early Modern Denmark. Nevertheless, the religious resonances of Paracelsian medical theory must be kept in mind when assessing the reception of Paracelsianism in an age when religious profession was of profound normative importance. Certainly this was the case for Denmark in the early modern period, where a strong, centralised state Church sought to conform all citizens to a Lutheran faith that was based on Luther’s writings and the articles of the Augsburg Confession, protecting them from the hegemony of Roman Catholicism and the wayward tendencies of Protestant sectarianism and further reformation.

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A Paracelsian Ideal for Medical Biology

Paracelsus may have served as a field surgeon in a Danish army, if his claim to have visited “Stockholm in Denmark” is believed, but there is no record of Danish interest in his ideas or methods of curing before the 1560s, when two Danish students travelled to Germany, Switzerland, France, and Italy, on a grand tour of Europe’s finest medical schools and urban attractions. Hans Filipsen du Pre (1543–1576) and Peder Sørensen (1542–1602), known by their Latin academic names Johannes Pratensis and Petrus Severinus, shared a royal stipend to immerse themselves in elite philosophical medicine as it was taught in Basel, Padua, and Paris and bring it back to Denmark, where they would implement it in teaching and practice and reduce Danish dependence on foreign-born physicians. Pratensis received an M.D. from Padua, at that time a prominent school for Aristotelian philosophy and Galenic medicine and especially sought out by those students interested in anatomical training. Where he was introduced to Paracelsian chemical medicine remains unknown. Severinus also travelled to Italy, but details of where he studied remain obscure. He was deeply engaged with Paracelsian medical ideas in Paris already by 1567, when he penned Exercitationum liber in qua quæstiones philosophicæ, astronomicæ, medicæ, cabalisticæ explicantur (Book of Exercises, In Which Philosophical, Astro­nomical, Medical, and Cabalistic Questions are Explicated). This re­­­ main­ed in manuscript, but many of the ideas in it were further developed in his Idea medicinae philosophicae (Ideal of Philosophical Medicine), which he put the finishing touches on in Florence in 1570 and published at Basel in 1571. Severinus’ genius was to take the fundamental tenets of Paracelsus’ approach to medicine, which were not presented in a coherent system in the various volumes that were first published in the 1560s, and to create a well-thoughtout metaphysical basis for a new medical biology. Paracelsus had written that some diseases come into the body with food and drink in latent form as seeds of diseases. Severinus generalised this idea, bringing to it the ancient Stoic and Neoplatonic notion that all things in nature are formed of seed-like principles, whether these be conceived as material (Stoic) or spiritual (Neoplatonic) in essence. Saint Augustine had adopted these seminal principles to explain the temporal appearance of things in a pre-ordained, providential Christian creation, which appealed especially to the Lutheran followers of Philipp Melanchthon, as were Severinus and many of his educated Danish contemporaries. Severinus’ seed-like principles provided a Christianised, Aristotelian epigenetic model of organic development to explain Paracelsian chemical philosophy, from the nature of hot mineral springs to grafting fruits and spontaneous generation, but in particular chemical physiology and pathogenesis.

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Such a broad, erudite approach, drawing on ancient and contemporary authorities, brought to Paracelsian medicine a measure of philosophical rigor and academic credibility that it previously lacked. The Idea medicinæ philosophicæ made Paracelsianism sensible to a generation of readers and gave Severinus an international reputation as a Paracelsian author. His seed theory in particular found favour even among authors such as Francis Bacon and Robert Boyle, who otherwise disapproved of Paracelsians and their ideas. Publication of the Idea medicinae philosophicæ secured for Severinus a position as royal physician to King Frederik II of Denmark, who was eager to develop Denmark’s intellectual resources. His patronage for Severinus as his personal physician in 1571 and for Pratensis, who on their return to Denmark was appointed to the medical faculty at the University of Copenhagen, was part of a general pattern for attaining Danish prominence in the arts and sciences that is evident in augmented funding for the university, the construction of Kronborg castle, and financial support for Tycho Brahe’s astronomical observatory and chemical laboratory on the nearby island of Hven. With Pratensis teaching Paracelsian medical ideas at the university and Severinus practising Paracelsian medicine at court, a foundation was laid for the further influence of Paracelsus’ medical ideas and therapeutics in Denmark. Tycho Brahe (1546–1601), too, had absorbed some Paracelsian medical and cosmological ideas while studying in Germany, which are evident in his musings about the significance of the new star he observed in 1572 and his engagement in alchemical work at Herrevad Cloister, later at Uraniborg, and ultimately at Benatky in Bohemia. When royal patronage secured for him the island of Hven in fief and sufficient funding to build in 1576, he began to erect his villa and research centre, Uraniborg, which housed one of the most advanced alchemical laboratories of the day in its basement. Little is known about Tycho’s involvement in alchemy, but his correspondence makes it plain that he opposed alchemical preoccupation with goldmaking and extolled its medical and philosophical aspects – Paracelsian chemical medicine. Tycho shared an enthusiasm for Paracelsian chemically-prepared drugs with other members of the high nobility and the royal family, who concocted them in their private laboratories, sharing both medicines and recipes with their peers. These drugs, often based on toxic ingredients, acted quickly and powerfully on the body and were favoured by patients who could afford them. Tycho’s youngest sister, Sophie, was an accomplished preparer of chemical medicines, which she corresponded about with her sister as well. Her second husband, Erik Lange, was also an alchemical enthusiast, and Tycho chided him for his excessive interest in the transmutational rather than the medicinal aspects of the art in his long poem Urania Titani.

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The Institutional Failure of Paracelsian Medicine

Despite aristocratic interest in chemical medicines as therapeutic agents, which the widespread ownership of Paracelsian books also suggests, Paracelsian theory made few inroads into academic medicine in Denmark. By statute, medical instruction at the University of Copenhagen was to be based on traditional medieval and Renaissance sources, not the neoteric medicine of Paracelsus. Johannes Pratensis admitted, however, that he managed to introduce some of Paracelsus’ medicine into the university’s otherwise medieval curriculum, but his death in 1576 cut short any pedagogical reforms he might have brought about. His successor, Anders Lemvig (1538–1603), was no Paracelsian, although he owned several books by Paracelsus. However, Anders Krag (1553–1600), who taught natural philosophy at the University of Copenhagen until 1600, was known as a skillful preparer of chemical medicines, which he supplied to the Danish court. Anders and his brother Niels Krag (1550–1602) were part of Tycho Brahe’s intellectual circle and, inasmuch as he served as personal physician to Princess Anna, he likely collaborated with Severinus at court. Anders would have been a logical choice for one of the two chairs in medicine, but he died before there was a vacancy. Another adherent to Paracelsian cosmological and medical ideas, Kort Aslakssøn (1564–1624), took a master’s degree in natural philosophy at the University of Copenhagen under the direction of Anders Krag and assisted Tycho Brahe on Hven for several years. But, Aslakssøn pursued a doctorate in theology instead of a medical career, and eventually became an important professor of theology in the first decades of the seventeenth century. Nevertheless, he exerted no influence on the spread of Paracelsian ideas within the academy, which during his tenure was becoming theologically orthodox and intolerant of Paracelsian religious ideas. With Krag dead, the University of Copenhagen negotiated with Severinus to fill the chair in medicine that was vacated in 1601, but Severinus died in 1602 before he could bring Paracelsian medicine into the classroom. With the appointments of Thomas Fincke (1561–1656) and Gellius Sascerides (1562–1612) to the two chairs in medicine in 1603, the medical faculty became even more staunchly Aristotelian and Galenic in theoretical orientation. Fincke was a relative of Severinus by marriage and had been recommended by him for medical study, but he seems not to have found Paracelsian ideas attractive. Likewise, Gellius Sascerides, who had assisted Tycho at Uraniborg for several years before falling out of his favour over a family matter, pursued a medical career that was largely traditional. Thomas Fincke’s longevity and familial hegemony – several subsequent appointees to professorships at the University of Copenhagen sought his

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patronage through marriage to his daughters – helped maintain a strong Aristo­­telian orientation among Copenhagen’s academics. When two young promising Danish students of medicine, Ole Worm (1588–1655) from Jutland and Caspar Bartholin (1585–1629) from Scandia, studied medicine in Germany and Switzerland in the first decade of the seventeenth century, they, like Johannes Pratensis and Petrus Severinus before, were exposed to Paracelsian medicine and eagerly sought training in laboratory methods from Europe’s best chemical physicians. Worm even studied for a short time with Johann Hartmann, the Paracelsian professor of chemistry at Marburg and an ardent follower of Severinus’ brand of Paracelsian theory. However, by this time the affiliation between Paracelsian theory and radical protestant heterodoxies was becoming apparent at Marburg, and Ole Worm opted to steer his course of study away from Marburg and away from a commitment to Paracelsian cosmology and anthropology and toward a more secular interest in Paracelsian chemical pharmacy, which entailed the extraction of minerals and herbs via acidic reagents, alcohol solvents, and concentrated essential oils and the amelioration of toxic metallic substances through distillations, precipitations, and like processes. This he found at Giessen under Gregor Horst and Heinrich Petræus, who incorporated elements of chemical philosophy and therapeutics into Galenic medicine, without engaging the heterodox religious ideas that were bound up with Paracelsian medicine. By the time Worm returned to Copenhagen to begin practice and seek academic preferment, including marriage to one of Thomas Fincke’s daughters, he seems to have left Paracelsian theory behind, bringing traditional Aristotelian and Galenic principles to bear on explaining the use and effectiveness of chemically-prepared drugs. Worm taught natural philosophy and other subjects at the University of Copenhagen until he was appointed to succeed his friend Caspar Bartholin as Thomas Fincke’s colleague in the medical faculty in 1624. Caspar likewise eschewed chemical philosophy and adapted whatever practical pharmaceutical preparations he used to Aristotelian physics and metaphysics. The many textbooks he published while professor of medicine at the University of Copenhagen 1613– 24 indicate an entrenched neo-Aristotelianism and no trace of Paracelsianism, befitting another son-in-law of Thomas Fincke. A decisive turning point for the future of Paracelsian ideas in the Danish academy came as a result of the German physician and chemist Andreas Libavius’ lengthy exposition of Paracelsian “vital philosophy”, which pointed out that it was both antithetical to traditional learning and linked with impious medical practices and the heterodoxies of the Rosicrucians. Like Libavius, Caspar Bartholin found Paracelsian claims to extract a panacea, a medicinal substance containing vital principles, from the body parts of prematurely

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deceased humans to be particularly hostile to received religion. And Ole Worm, who cited Libavius’ attack on the Rosicrucians, began to inquire into the claims of the Rosicrucians via correspondence with colleagues and students in Germany. This culminated in his denunciation of Rosicrucianism in a public oration that he delivered at the University of Copenhagen in 1619, after which he did not publicly endorse Paracelsian medicine and clearly applied Aristotelian and Galenic explanations for those Paracelsian ideas he did mention in print. Many years later Worm professed in a letter to his former student Ambrosius Rhodius, who had asked for his opinion about Severinus’ Paracelsian ideas, that he followed the lead of Daniel Horst, one of his earlier teachers at Giessen, who pursued a course of compromise between chemical philosophy and traditional scholastic Aristotelian and Galenic philosophy and medicine. In all likelihood, Worm had been won over to this middle of the road position while still a student at Marburg and Giessen and had remained ambivalent to the radical claims of the Paracelsians ever since.

Paraacademicum: Paracelsian Ideas and Practices Outside the Academy

If Paracelsians and their ideas did not find support within the academic community, owing to educational statutes and the suspicion that they were linked to unacceptable religious ideas and practices, the same cannot be said for private laboratories and practices. When physicians Nicolaus Teting (1593/4–1642) and Hartvig Lohmann (ca. 1590- ca. 1642) were legally suppressed for maintaining and teaching heterodox religious propositions linked to Paracelsian religious ideas, their effectiveness as chemical medical practitioners was not subject to censure, but rather their Paracelsian religious ideas (see the chapters on early modern Rosicrucianism in the present volume). Paracelsian practical medicine was nurtured by King Christian IV, who hired the German Paracelsian physician Peter Payngk (1575–1645) to produce medicines in the new royal laboratory installed at Rosenborg castle in Copenhagen. Payngk waxed eloquent about Paracelsus and his medicine and produced Paracelsian-style chemical medicines along with confections and cosmetics for the court at Rosenborg, but apparently never wrote anything that could be considered religiously suspect in Lutheran Denmark. Subsequent chemists, like the nobleman Joachim Gersdorff (1611–1661) and the professor of botany and chemistry at the University of Copenhagen Ole Borch (1629–1690), drifted further away from Paracelsian theory as chemical pharmacology itself became adapted to an eclectic Galenism; Iatrochemistry was no longer a synonym for Paracelsian

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chemistry, but rather denoted an established medical practice that employed drugs prepared in the chemical laboratory, regardless of diagnostic and therapeutic framework. In Ole Borch’s defense of Paracelsianism as part of the historical development of state-of-the-art medicine in 1660s Copenhagen, we see that Paracelsus and his ideas were no longer viewed as a coherent and living movement that was positioned in violent antithesis to scholastic Galenism and the “pagan” philosophy of Aristotle, but rather as one historical tributary to an eclectic confluence of medical traditions that was bringing medicine and science forward; Paracelsian chemical philosophy, which had once stirred Severinus and Payngk to compose paeans in praise of the German reformer and also aroused the bitter invectives of anti-Paracelsians Thomas Erastus and Andreas Libavius, had become historicised by the end of the seventeenth century. In this form, as a bygone approach to medicine that is worthy of study as medical background to the latest theories and practices, Paracelsianism was compared to Hippocratism, Galenism, and the newer iatro-mechanical philosophical underpinnings to neo-methodist conceptions of medical therapeutics. We see this historical point of view clearly manifested in Kurt Polycarp Sprengel’s pioneering history of medicine, Versuch einer pragmatischen Geschichte der Arzneikunde, vol. 3 (Halle, 1801), in which Paracelsus and the Paracelsians were given their own chapters. In Denmark this historicist approach is exhibited in part two of Andreas Bremer’s (1810–1857) 1836 M.D. dissertation on the life and opinions of Theophrastus Paracelsus, Dissertationis de vita et opinionibus Theophrasti Paracelsi particula posterior, which recounted Severinus’ explication of Paracelsian ideas. By the end of the nineteenth century, the works of Galen, Hippocrates, Paracelsus, and the even more recent Hermann Boerhaave and Georg Stahl would no longer be read for contrasting useful perspectives by medical students like Bremer, as advances in tissue pathology, organic chemistry, and ultimately the germ theory finally rendered past medical theories quaint. Paracelsian ideas were then left solely to historians and esoteric religionists to ponder.

References

Bastholm, Eyvind and Hans Skov, Petrus Severinus og hans Idea medicinae philosophicae, Acta historica scientiarum naturalium et medicinalium, vol. 32. Odense: Odense Universitetsforlag, 1979. Borrichius, Olaus (Ole Borch), Dissertatio de ortu et progressu chemiae, Copenhagen 1660.

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———. Hermetis, Ægyptiorum et chemicorum sapientia ab Hermanni Conringii animadversionibus vindicata per Olaum Borrichium, Copenhagen 1674. Bremer, Andreas Fredericus, Dissertationis de vita et opinionibus Theophrasti Paracelsi particula posterior, Copenhagen: Trier, 1836. Fink-Jensen, Morten, “Paracelsus og Danmark: Medicin og teologi i 1500- og 1600 tallet”, in: Charlotte Appel, Peter Henningsen, and Nils Hybel (eds.), Mentalitet & Historie: Om fortidige forestillingsverdener, Ebeltoft: Skippershoved, 2002, 95–118. ——— . Fornuften under troens lydighed: Naturfilosofi, medicin og teologi i Danmark 1536–1636, Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 2004. Fjelstrup, August, Dr. Peter Payngk: Kong Kristian IV’s Hofkemiker, Copenhagen: A. Giese, 1911. ——— . Guldmagere i Danmark i det XVII Aarhundrede, Copenhagen: Branner, 1906. ——— . “Peter Payngk: ‘Rapsodia Vitæ Theophrasti Paracelsi’”, Janus 13 (1908), 545–563. Grell, Ole Peter, “The Acceptable Face of Paracelsianism”, in: O. Grell (ed.), Paracelsus: The Man and His Reputation, His Ideas and Their Transformation, Leiden: Brill, 1998, 245–267. Severinus, Petrus (Peder Sørensen), Epistola scripta Theophrasto Paracelso, in qua ratio ordinis et nominum, adeoque totius Philosophiæ Adeptæ methodus compendiose et erudite ostenditur a Petro Severino Dano Philosophiæ et Medicinæ Doctore, Basel: Henric Petri, [1570?]. Reprinted in Paracelsus, Opera omnia (1658). ———. Idea medicinæ philosophicæ fundamenta continens totius doctrinæ Paracelsicæ, Hippocraticæ et Galenicæ, Basel: Henric Petri, 1571; 2nd ed., Erfurt; 3rd ed., The Hague: Vlacq, 1660. Shackelford, Jole, A Philosophical Path for Paracelsian Medicine. The Ideas, Intellectual Context, and Influence of Petrus Severinus (1540/2–1602), Acta historica scientiarum naturalium et medicinalium 46. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, University of Copenhagen, 2004. Veibel, Stig, Kemiens historie i Danmark. Vol. 1 of Kemien i Danmark, Copenhagen: Arnold Busck, 1939. Zeeberg, Peter, “Kemi og kærlighed: Naturvidenskab i Tycho Brahes latindigtning”, in: Marianne Alenius and Peter Zeeberg (eds.), Litteratur og Lærdom: Dansk-svenske nylatindage april 1985, Renaissancestudier, vol. 1. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculaneum, 1987, 149–161. ——— . Tycho Brahes Urania Titani: En digt om Sophie Brahe. Renaissance Studier 7. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanums Forlag, 1994.

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Chapter 50 Paracelsianism in Finland

Paracelsianism in Finland Tomas Mansikka The influence of Paracelsus in Finland has been predominantly of an indirect kind. One rarely finds Paracelsus’ name referred to in academic sources, and when it occurs, it is mostly in the context of a condemnation or admonition. As the main ideological background for the foundation of the Academy of Turku in 1640 had been to train the clergy and to buttress Lutheran orthodoxy in the country, the university functioned mainly as a bastion of neo-scholasticism and Aristotelianism. In the training of students certain fixed rules were employed, with the aim of having them master the art of arguing, i.e., the proper use of rhetoric and dialectic. Novelties and independent thought were not encouraged. Despite such strictures, there was a spread and reception of various modified Paracelsian ideas. This occurred particularly within natural philosophy, which at that time was greatly influenced by Daniel Sennert (1572– 1637), who had striven for a synthesis of Paracelsist iatrochemistry with the Aristotelian and Galenic tradition. Sennert, alongside his disciple Johannes Sperling (1603–1658), were highly respected at the University in Turku, one of the five universities of the Kingdom of Sweden in the seventeenth century. Another source of Paracelsian ideas came through Athanasius Kircher (1602– 1680) and his influential Mundus subterraneus (1665). The modified Paracelsian doctrines transmitted by these authors were incorporated in dissertations on natural philosophy, notably within the curricula of physics and medicine, an influence that held its grip until the end of the century.

Sigfrid Aronus Forsius

A notable exception within the Finnish cultural setting was the astronomer and almanac-maker Sigfrid Aronus Forsius (1560–1624), who was an early seventeenth-century advocate and outspoken defender of Paracelsian tenets. Forsius was born in Helsinki and had studied in Rostock, probably under the physician and Paracelsist Levinus Battus (1545–1591). He matriculated at the University of Uppsala 1595, after which he was ordained minister and worked as a preacher in Turku. In 1601 Forsius participated in the Arctic expedition conducted by Duke Charles (Charles IX) and in 1608 received the chair of professor in astronomy at Uppsala University. In 1613 he became the vicar of the © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_052

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Finnish Church in Stockholm and from 1619 the vicar of Ekenäs in southern Finland, where he quietly spent the rest of his life. Forsius’ notoriety rests primarily upon his knowledge of astronomy. From 1597 onwards he published almanacs and prognostications for the general public, for which he in 1613 was honored with royally protected exclusive rights. From a natural philosophical point of view, Forsius’ most interesting work is a textbook on physics, Physica Eller Naturlighe tings Qaliteters och Egendomars Beskrijfuelse (Physica, or Description of the Qualities and Particularities of Natural Things). Although completed and dated 1611, the work remained in manuscript form as a result of the controversial contents, and it was printed for the first time as late as 1952. Forsius was an eclectic author who combined Aristotelian doctrines with Stoic, Hermetic, and Neoplatonic ideas. From the year 1607 onwards, and in connection with his studies of the literature on comets, Paracelsian ideas began to appear in his writings, probably through the mediation of Tycho Brahe. Among other things, he embraced Paracelsus’ view of the heavens as being one of the elements, rather than fire as in Aristotelian doctrine. In a Paracelsian vein, Forsius also described heaven and earth as close to each other, the former being active and the latter passive. Forsius’ astrological views were also influenced by Valentin Weigel, who in turn was influenced by Paracelsus. In general, one can say that Forsius’ Paracelsianism was close to Tycho Brahe’s, although they came to emphasise different aspects of Paracelsus’ teachings. In striving to create a coherent natural philosophical system, Forsius did not adopt Paracelsus unreservedly, but only incorporated elements which he considered would support his own astrological theory. Forsius’ view of nature and the world also came to change during his active period as an author. Besides the natural philosophical doctrines, one also finds in Forsius’ writings the prophetic-chiliastistic motif of Elias the artist. There was a widespread view among seventeenth-century Paracelsians that a prophet by this name would emerge at the threshold of the new millennium. Forsius prophesied that great upheavals and disasters would occur when this happens, and that only a third of humanity would survive. In the new kingdom everyone will be an alchemist; both learned and unlearned will then be able to transmute base metals into gold and silver.

Johann Arndt

Another source of Paracelsian ideas was devotional literature, notably the works of Johann Arndt (1555–1621). Arndt’s impact was considerable, as he had, despite accusations of heterodoxy, wide support among the clergy throughout

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the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In Arndt’s Vier Bücher vom wahren Christentum (Four Books on True Christianity) all arts and sciences, e.g., medicine, botany, physics, and theology, are unified in a natural philosophy inspired by Paracelsus, blended with meditations on Lutheran piety and faith. These reflections on the relationship between piety and scientific progress seem to have been widely accepted at the time. Thus, in 1648, the University of Dorpat (Estonia) explicitly recommended that the chair in medicine be given to a follower of Arndt, with the added remark that the person in question should also have some familiarity with chemistry. As an indication of Arndt’s growing esteem, the 1626 statutes for the universities of Uppsala and Turku had recommended physicians to study the works of Galen and Hippocrates, with the addition that “chemical authors” should also be studied. Both Arndt and Forsius were influenced by Valentin Weigel, or the Weigelian variant of Paracelsianism. This is apparent for instance in both authors depending on the work Astrologia theologizata. There are two contemporary versions of this work, different in style but similar in content, one anonymous (1617) and one by Weigel, forming the second part of his three-part work Nosce teipsum (1618). Both Arndt, in his Vier Bücher, and Forsius in a defence of astrology, refer to central principles in this work, e.g., the Paracelsian notion of man as a microcosm, enveloping an inner firmament that impels man to practise the arts and sciences.

Daniel Sennert

In the decades following the foundation of the University of Turku in 1640, Paracelsianism came to influence the natural philosophical subjects taught there in a variety of ways. This was achieved through minor adjustments, expansions or additions to the dominant Aristotelian understanding of physics. The Aristotelian natural philosophical framework was a flexible system, allowing such modifications as long as one adhered to its basic principles. No serious attempts were made to entirely theologise physics. The natural philosophical subjects were, however, more or less subordinate to theology, which in turn served as an institution devoted to the training of priests. As a consequence, natural philosophy generally adhered to the theological principles imposed at the time, while theologians did not interfere with the details of natural philosophy. The doctrine of the tria prima of Mercury, Sulfur, and Salt belong to the basic ideas of Paracelsianism. In Sennert’s atomism the four elements are combined with these three principles, and the latter are seen as bearers of the perceptible

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qualities. The Paracelsian principles were initially introduced into dissertations on physics through Georgius Alanus (1609–1664), who held the first chair in physics in Turku. Alanus’ successor Abraham Thauvonius (1622–1679) also presupposed the existence of the three Paracelsian chemical principles. Referring to Sennert, he described Salt and Sulfur as the basis for the perceptual qualities, the former for taste and the latter for smell and colours, while Mercury caused the lack of firmness of the bodies. The Faculty of Medicine had a relatively low status in the University of Turku. The pharmacological use of herbs was acknowledged at the university, but otherwise the relationship between medicine and the botanical and physical sciences seems to have been nominal and theoretical. The first professor of medicine, Eric Achrelius (1604–1670), was born in Roslagen in Sweden and had studied at Uppsala, where he was acquainted with the Paracelsists Johannes Franck and Johannes Raicus. His only text is an academic oration (1627) dating from this early period, in which he presents a Paracelsian-inspired survey of man as a microcosm. During the many years (from 1641 to 1670) that he held the chair in medicine, Achrelius did not publish any further works, and when reproached for his lack of written output by the Senate, Achrelius defended himself by complaining of the lack of students. It is known, however, that Achrelius tutored students at his home and, together with Alanus, held botanical excursions with the aim of cataloguing local herbs. Achrelius was succeeded as professor of medicine in 1670 by Elias Til-landz (1640–1693) who had studied and earned a doctorate in Leyden 1668–1670. During this time Francis de le Boë Sylvius (1614–1672), a follower of Paracelsus and Jan Baptista von Helmont, and founder of the Iatrochemical School of Medicine, was active in Leyden. Til-landz, as well as his successor Laurentius Braun (knighted Braunerskjöld, 1657–1729), described medicine as the noblest of all sciences, founded by God himself. In an introduction to medicine (Disputationem medicarum prima: medicinae praecognita Levites delineans, 1695) Braun describes how, through the ages, four schools have arisen, which he called Empirica, Dogmatica, Methodica and Spagyrica. The empirical school was the oldest, but suffered from significant errors, for instance by regarding nature as incomprehensible and therefore excluded from the study of medicine. An improvement was made with the dogmatic school founded by Hippocrates, while the methodical school was based on a few simple principles and was short-lived, which caused the dogmatic school to be the dominant one until Paracelsus’ appearance in Germany, when the fourth school arose. Braun provides an exhaustive account of the Paracelsian school, to which he ascribes a great importance. The practice of medicine is, according to Braun, the art of preserving human health, and in case of illness, recovering it. Braun’s account

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is based here primarly upon Sennert. His high opinion of the Paracelsian school notwithstanding, Braun retained old Galenic views and was one of the first people to spread Cartesian ideas at Turku. The influence of both Sennert and Athanasius Kircher is also to be found in the work of the productive Professor of Physics Petrus Hahn (1650–1718), who like Braun was among the earliest scholars to incorporate Descartes’ views in a natural philosophical system. The opinions of Descartes had earlier been presented by Andreas Thuronius (1632–1665), but were simultaneously refuted because they contradicted key aspects of Sennert’s and Sperling’s teachings. The influence of Sennert upon Hahn shows itself especially in the so-called seminal doctrine (Diss. Physica the panspermia rerum, 1689). This was a central idea of the Paracelsian doctrine of nature, which had already been articulated by Alanus, and was part of the debate about abiogenesis or spontaneous reproduction. According to the theory of panspermia rerum, all life is born from seeds, that is, all organisms have their origin in seeds of life or seed-principles, which are hidden and scattered in nature. Seminalism had been disseminated through the work of Petrus Severinus (1542–1602) to Sennerts’ Hypomnemata Physica (1636) and his disciple Sperling and constituted an important element also in Kircher’s Mundus subterraneus. The work that would provide the most complete and systematic treatment of natural philosophy based on Kircher and Sennert was a textbook entitled Contemplationes mundi, written by the Professor of eloquentia Daniel Achrelius (1644–1692). Contemplationes mundi is considered a pioneering work, published first as a series of dissertations and finally in a single volume in 1682. As a general introduction to natural philosophy, Achrelius depicts nature organically and in Paracelsian terms as a maternal womb. The Paracelsian concept of the tria prima is combined with the Aristotelian doctrine of elements, in which the tria prima explain the sympathies and antipathies of nature as well as the tactile qualities of things, while the elements act as building materials for the former. Achrelius distinguishes between a passive and magnetic force (vis magnetica) and an active and plastic one (vis plastica, vis formatrix); the former is the receiver and matrix while the latter is the organising and conducting principle. Based on this theory, Achrelius explains a number of natural processes, such as natural reproduction through panspermia rerum. In describing the fertilising power of the seed, spiritus spermaticus, Achrelius is more in accord with Paracelsus than with Sennert and Kircher. The fertilising power inherent in the tria prima principle distributes itself through a vapour (vapor) originating in the stars and planets, as an excretion or effluvium. In this view, as also in more general views on how the tria prima of Sulphur, Salt, and Mercury correlate with the four elements, Achrelius essentially connects back to

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Paracelsus. Achrelius was an eclectic author, and disagrees with Paracelsian doctrines on other points. This is, for example, the case in his discussion of diseases, where he is dependent on the Greek theory of bodily humours. It is conspicuous that Contemplationes mundi – the first work which in both style and content distanced itself from the scholastic tradition – did so by incorporating Paracelsian ideas into the basic Aristotelian framework. That Paracelsus’ name is not mentioned in Achrelius’ work could probably be understood as a precaution, even though Paracelsianism spread in various variations and through the work of his followers rather than via Paracelsus’ own writings. In the seventeenth century the names of both Paracelsus and Weigel usually carried negative, heterodox connotations. Thus, with the exception of medicine, Paracelsus was as a rule mentioned in condescending terms only, e.g., in a thesis by Nicolaus L. Forzelius under the auspices of Petrus Laurbeccius (1628–1705) on the use of magic drums (De tympanis magicis 1680), in which he is described as a magician in the same sense as Agrippa and Faust. During the eighteenth century and the changing scientific climate, Paracelsus was presented in a much more positive light as the pioneer of chemical science, for instance by the professors of physics Johan Browallius (1707–1755) and Pehr Adrian Gadd (1727–1797).

The Pietist Movement

In the early eighteenth century a variety of Paracelsian-inspired chiliastic and prophetic ideas re-emerged within the Pietist movement and more explicitly among Radical Pietists. Because of the millenarian-messianic wave that swept across northern Europe during the end of the seventeenth century, Paracelsian prophecies that dated from the beginning of the century received a renewed interest, and were adapted to contemporary political and religious conditions. Reprints of prophecies, in the form of extracts from the writings of Paracelsus and the prophecies of the Silesian visionary Christopher Kotter, spread within pietistic circles. Two Swedish collections of texts that the Finnish radical pietist Peter Schaefer used were Extract af Doctor P.T. Paracelsi Prophetie samt andra märkliga mäns spådomar om den stora revolution i denna vår tid och den 4:de Monarchiens undergång (Extracts by Doctor P.T. Paracelsus’ Prophecies and Other Remarkable Men’s Predictions About the Great Revolution in This Our Time, and the Doom of the 4th Monarchy) and Utur Chr. Cotteri underliga uppenbarelse som tog sin begynnelse A:o 1619 och sin ända den 6 October 1624 (From Chr. Cotter’s Strange Revelation Which Commenced in the Year 1619 and Ended on 6 October 1624), compiled in the early eighteenth century. In this

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circle Charles XII was interpreted alternately as the prophet Elijah and as the Nordic Lion (Der Löwe aus der Mitternacht), and the king’s military campaign, which at first was successful, was seen as a sign of the old regime’s downfall and the beginning of the millennium.

References

Fagerlund, L.W. and Robert Tigerstedt, Medicinens studium vid Åbo universitet, Helsingfors: Skrifter utgivna av Svenska Literatursällskapet i Finland XVI, 1890. Kallinen, Maija, Change and Stability. Natural Philosophy at the Academy of Turku (1640– 1713). Studia Historica 51, Helsinki: SHS, 1995. ———. “Naturens hemliga krafter. Daniel Achrelius’ Contemplationes mundi”, Historisk Tidskrift för Finland 3 (1991), 317–346. ———. “Daniel Achreliuksen teos Contemplationes mundi libri tres – sen lähdepohja ja tulkintaa”, Minerva. Aate- ja oppihistorian vuosikirja 2, Oulu (1991), 3–140. Kiiskinen, Terhi, Sigfrid Aronus Forsius: Astronomer and Philosopher of Nature (European Studies in the History of Science and Ideas), Frankfurt a.M.; Bern [etc.]: Peter Lang Publishing, 2007. Lindroth, Sten, Paracelsismen i Sverige till 1600-talets mitt, Lychnos-bibliek 7, 1943. ——— . “Uralstringen. Ett kapitel ur biologins äldre historia”, Uppsala: Lychnos, 1939. Newman, William R., Atoms and Alchemy. Chymistry and the Experimental Origins of the Scientific Revolution, Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2006. Repo, Matti, Uskon lahja vai rakkauden päämäärä? Johann Arndtin käsitys vanhurskauttamisesta ja unionista, Helsinki: Gummerus, 1997. Ruuth, Martti, “Kaarle XII mystillis-separatistisen profetian valossa”, in: Ur de religiösa rörelsernas historia i Finland. Urkunder och forskningar I. Finska kyrkohistoriska samfundets handlingar XII,1. Helsingfors, 1915, 227–253. Tigerstedt, Robert, Kemiens studium vid Åbo universitet. (Skrifter utgivna av Svenska Literatur­sällskapet i Finland XLII), Helsingfors, 1899.

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Chapter 51 Paracelsianism in Norway

Paracelsianism in Norway Gina Dahl

Paracelsianism as a Learned Tradition

Paracelsianism in Norway falls into three main categories. Firstly, a passing knowledge of Paracelsian pharmacology was fairly commonplace amongst scholars working in the medical field. These scholars, however, did not necessarily adhere to Paracelsian metaphysics. A second group of scholars were adherents of Paracelsianism in so far as they accepted a natural philosophy or a medical cosmology in which the human being, viewed as a microcosm, could both know and operate upon the natural world by recognising the signatures and correspondences of creation. Thirdly, many people adopted a radical spiritual theology indebted to Paracelsus and Boehme, but without any specific adherence to their natural philosophical speculations. Those who subscribed to the Paracelsian cosmology naturally belonged to the educated upper classes. However, due to the lack of corpora of higher ­education as well as scientific societies prior to the modern age, the learned class in Norway remained small. As a result, there were few exponents of the more scientific aspects of Paracelsianism. Equally, few exponents had their manuscripts printed, even if they did write on the subject. Two circumstances might account for this deficiency: firstly, the small number of printing offices in Norway at the time did not facilitate the publishing of works in the field: secondly, the fear of a radical spiritualism into which the readers of Paracelsian literature might easily be drawn, made such literature suspect in the eyes of government officials at a time when religious orthodoxy was important. As initially noted, several officials working on Norwegian soil were acquainted with Paracelsian literature, although we do not know if they had any specific interest in Paracelsus’ cosmology. Most of them were physicians, and their acquaintance with Paracelsian literature is attested through their book collections: Jacob Woldenberg (1649–1735), a physician in Bergen who presumably also had a vivid interest in alchemy, owned books by Paracelsus as well as by his followers Joan van Helmont, Christian Knorr von Rosenroth, Jean Beguin, and Oswald Croll. Books in the Hermeticist tradition were also reportedly in Woldenberg’s possession, including Trismegistus de lapide Philosophico

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and Henricus Petraeus’ Nosologia harmonica, dogmatica et hermetica. The physician Georg Blumenthal (1687–1742), who practised in the mining city of Kongsberg, also owned books written by authors indebted to Paracelsus’ teachings, for instance Martin Ruland the Elder, Quercetanus (i.e., Joseph Duchesne), Zetzner, and Joan van Helmont. Another physician, Paul Dons (1689–1748) in Trondheim, also owned a range of Paracelsian books: in addition to owning books attributed to Paracelsus himself (five volumes), books by Oswald Croll, Johan Kunkel, Urban Hiärne, and Athanasius Kircher (Mundus Subterraneus) were also reportedly in his possession, as were books attributed to Henricus Petraeus (Nosologia harmonica) and Jacob Boehme (Theosophische SendSchreiben). The early seventeenth-century parson in Trondheim Thomas von Westen also possessed a substantial collection of Paracelsian literature, as well as other works of an esotericist nature, books which he might have inherited from his father Arnoldus, an apothecary in Trondheim. This collection included books written by authors such as Kircher (Mundus subterraneus), Zwelfer (Pharmacopoea augustana), Schott (Technica curiosa), and Christian Knorr von Rosenroth (Kabbalah denudata).

A Sixteenth-Century Paracelsian: Kort Aslakssøn

A certain number of people in early modern Norway were also Paracelsians in the sense that they appear to have adopted the more spiritual aspects of Paracelsus’ teachings. In this respect, the sixteenth century fostered at least one prominent exponent of Paracelsus’ natural philosophy, namely Kort Aslakssøn (1564–1624), one of the few Norwegian-born scholars to become a professor at Copenhagen University. Aslakssøn was born in Bergen, where he attended Latin School before taking up studies in philosophy, theology, medicine, and law at Copenhagen University. He was also deeply interested in astronomy, and he assisted Tycho Brahe on the island of Hven in the period 1590–1593. Returning to Copenhagen, he completed a master’s degree, and he eventually spent six years abroad visiting the universities at Wittenberg, Rostock, Herborn, Heidelberg, Basel, Geneva, Paris, Oxford, and Cambridge. Eventually Aslakssøn returned to Copenhagen where he was appointed professor of theology, and he also served as rector at the university in the periods 1614–1615 and 1629–1621. Aslakssøn, who wrote several theological treatises, also published works on natural philosophy that were indebted to Paracelsian metaphysics, two of which are worth mentioning here, namely De natura caeli triplicis libelli tres (1597) and Physica et ethica Mosaica (1613). Particularly De natura caeli

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triplicis reflects Aslakssøn’s familiarity with Paracelsian philosophy. In it, Aslakssøn describes the world as filled with both corporeal and incorporeal beings, which he believes are bound together by a world soul that sustains the entire creation. To support his claim, Aslakssøn cites historical authorities such as Hermes Trismegistus, Plato, Iamblichus, Virgil, Proclus, Lactantius, and Agrippa. Chapter two of De natura, named “De caelo sidero”, further develops his Paracelsian-inspired cosmology. Aslakssøn starts by expounding the Paracelsian view that all being derives from a prime matter, a soul or spirit in nature. The superior creative principle, the Archeus, is responsible for all existence, and differences between things are a result of the Archeus bringing some beings to a higher level of perfection than others. Further evidence of Aslakssøn’s familiarity with Paracelsianism can be found in his view of the material world as a product of chemical processes. Although De natura remains Aslakssøn’s most openly Paracelsian-inspired work, Physica et ethica Mosaica also reflects his sympathies with Paracelsus: in Physica et ethica Mosaica Aslakssøn combines the account of Genesis with a Renaissance and Platonic natural philosophy, a fusion also found in works by other Paracelsians from that period.

Seventeenth-Century Spiritualists in Bergen and Christiania

A group of academics adhering to the teachings of Paracelsus and Boehme also appeared in Bergen in the seventeenth century. This group probably included the physicians Paul Brandt, Diderik Ekhof, and Hans Olsen, an alchemist, as well as the theologian, Latin School lecturer and astrologer Edvard Edvardsen (1630–1695). Of these, only Edvardsen left behind a written testimony elaborating upon his Paracelsian worldview, namely the unpublished manuscript Sapientia coelestis. In the preface to Sapientia coelestis, started in 1674, Ed­­ vardsen refers to authors that he has drawn on in his presentation, mentioning radical spiritualists and medieval mystics like Hoburg (Praetorius) and Hugh of St Victor. With respect to natural philosophers, Edvardsen refers to Para­cel­ sian-inspired authors such as Caspar Bartholin the Elder, Kort Aslaks­søn, Joan van Helmont, Caspar Schott, and Jean Beguin. Of these, Caspar Schott (Physica curiosa) is quoted on several occasions, and Baldvini’s Hermeticist work Aurum aurae hermeticum phosphorus is also referred to in the manuscript. Sapientia coelestis describes a cosmos similar to that proposed by Paracelsus. Nature, emphasises Edvardsen, is inhabited by God, and the three foundations of life, Essentz, Væsen, and Natur (principia prima omnium operationum & proprietatum), are present in all creation. These immaterial forces are in their

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principius activum represented by the triad of Salt, Sulphur, and Mercury. According to this conception, the term tria prima does not refer to the observed compounds Salt, Sulphur, and Mercury, but rather to consistencies of matter: immaterial principles that underlie the elements, which means that Edvardesen likens Salt to consistency or matter, Sulphur to the form or the soul, and Mercury to the spirit or the effect that emanates from the two others. These tria prima are in Edvardsen’s view to be found everywhere, in man as well as in the planets. God himself is also composed of the same essences: The Holy Spirit should be equated to Mercury, the Father to Salt, consistency, or matter, and the Son to Sulphur, the form or the soul. According to Edvardsen, the tria prima radiate from God and into the cosmos, and make up for the diverse ­qualities of the seven planets: Mars, being too fiery, is equated to a tyrant, whereas Jupiter has a sweeter nature. Venus brings love, whereas Mercury incorporates all of the powers in one body. Edvardsen also claims that the combination of the three principles Salt, Sulphur, and Mercury produces the sensory characteristics of every existing thing, a unique “signature” that reflects its inner properties. Every being can also be good or bad, depending on the instability of its tripartite nature. This goes for human beings as well as for angels, who according to Edvardsen are equipped with bodies which are more subtle than those of human beings. Some adherents of Paracelsus’ natural philosophy also appeared in Chris­ tia­nia in the seventeenth century. The most prominent of these was the Paracelsian spiritualist, astrologer, and lecturer at the Christiania upper secondary school Ambrosius Rhodius (1605–1696), the author of a defence of Severinus’ Paracelsian medicine called Disputationes supra ideam medicinae phi­lo­sophicae Petri Severini. Ambrosius was not, however, the only Paracelsianinspired person serving in Christiania at the time. The Christiania apothecary Hans Jochum Scharff (1649?-1703?) was probably also a follower of Paracelsian spiritualism. Scharff, who was granted a license to practise as an apothecary in 1672, grew up in the midst of a sectarian turmoil: His mother was excommunicated for refraining from joining in the communion, and his father allegedly hosted secret religious meetings at home. Scharff, who did not write anything himself, nevertheless owned a substantial collection of Paracelsian literature, written by authors such as Joan van Helmont, Jean Beguin, Johann Hartmann, Johan Zwelfer, Angelo Sala, Oswald Croll, and Alexander von Suchten. Apart from owning several books written by Paracelsus himself, Scharff also owned books written by Daniel Becher (Medicus microcosmus seu spagyria microcosmi triplo auctior et correctior) and Johannes Isaac Hollandus (De lapide philosophorum). Scharff was also interested in radical theology, or theosophy, which can be seen in his ownership of books written by Jacob Boehme, Johan

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Arndt, Elias Praetorius, Sebastian Franck, and Johan Jacob Fabritius (i.e., Justus Klager), a follower of Boehme. Overall, Scharff’s adherence to a Paracelsianinspired radical spiritualism may have contributed to his downfall: Scharff’s accusations against a prominent Christiania citizen, whom he suspected of seducing his daughter, proved unsuccessful, and whereas the accused was acquitted, Scharff was sentenced to penal servitude for life. Although Scharff’s problems were apparently brought about by false accusations, his adherence to radical spiritualism might have been one of the reasons for him being given such a harsh punishment. Scharff managed to escape from captivity, but his subsequent destiny is unknown.

Radical Spiritualists in the Eighteenth Century

Throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, radical sects and groupings attacking the established religion sprung up across the country, and in the major cities in particular. Although there are few sources that tell us of the spiritual tendencies of these groups, various testimonies indicate that some of them adopted a spiritual theology indebted to Paracelsus and Boehme, the mystical Paracelsian metaphysician. It also appears that the radical spiritualism of Boehme was of particular importance to some of these movements. Many of these movements also received impulses from Denmark, Germany, and the Netherlands: the German Johan Otto Glüsing, for instance, who was profoundly inspired by Johann Conrad Dippel as well as by Jacob Boehme, arrived in Christiania in 1707. Glüsing, who gathered around him several adherents, was quickly expelled from the capital, however. Glüsing subsequently joined the Gichtelians, a sect named after Boehme’s ascetically minded adherent Johann Georg Gichtel. One of the people writing and disseminating manuscripts of a radical spiritualist nature was Magnus Berg (1666–1739), who was inspired by Boehme as well as by Paracelsus. Berg, admired as one of the most prominent European ivory sculptors of his time, wrote numerous religious pamphlets of a radical spiritual nature that presumably circulated in Denmark, Germany, and Norway. He was also a great book collector, and had in his library works written by Paracelsus and Boehme, as well by Joan van Helmont, Gottfried Arnold, Sebastian Franck, Christian Hoburg, Caspar Schwenckfeld, Valentin Weigel, Thomas a Kempis, and Tauler. He also had several Moravian and Rosicrucian tracts (Fama fraternitatis, Confessio fraternitatis, and Chymische Hochzeit), as well as works written by Renaissance occultists (Agrippa, Francesco Patrizi, Johann Trithemius). According to the sources, Berg started to write radical

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Pietist pamphlets in 1707, and several of his writings supported Boehme’s theosophy as well as Paracelsus’ teachings. In Den siste verdens speil (Mirror of the Last World), for instance, written in 1721–1722, Paracelsus is praised, and topics such as apocatastasis, signatures in nature, alchemy, and Boehme’s metaphysics are also covered. Berg’s highly apocalyptical outlook is a characteristic shared by many of the period’s spiritualists, including Hans Olsen, Edvard Edvardsen, and Anders Kempe. In Bergen, groups inspired by Paracelsus and/or Boehme also sprung up. A radical faction of the first generation of Moravian Brothers in Bergen, for instance, had Paracelsian and Hermeticist literature circulating among them. This faction gathered around the physician Johan Turck and his wife, both of whom had close ties to the Netherlands. Evidence that there also were groups following Boehme’s teachings around the turn of the nineteenth century is provided by the Norwegian spiritual reformer Hans Nielsen Hauge (1771–1824), who claimed that in his travels to Bergen around 1800 he met several followers of Jacob Boehme: Whether these people were also acquainted with Paracelsus’ natural philosophy is unknown, however.

Other Outbursts of Radical Spiritual Theology

In Christiania, various people also sided with radical spiritual theology. Some of these gathered around the Danish-born theologian Niels Svendsøn Chronich (b. ca. 1608), who worked as a lecturer at the Christiania upper secondary school. Chronich, who was mentioned by Gottfried Arnold in his Unpartheyische Kirchen- und Ketzer-Histoire, quickly became embroiled in disputes with church officials on account of his criticism of their lifestyle and his support for radical spiritualists such as Boehme. Chronich also refused to take communion, thereby siding with the Paracelsian metaphysics and Christology which claimed that Christ was an entirely spiritual being who therefore could not be physically present at the communion. Chronich, like Berg, also published strongly apocalyptic writings, such as En Merckelig Vise Om den ydterste Dommedag (A Strange Song About the Final Day of Judgment, 1643) and Tre Aandelige Sange (Three Spiritual Songs, 1649). Due to his unorthodox claims, Chronich was eventually forbidden to speak from the pulpit, and when he later also lost the protection of the viceroy Hannibal Sehested, he was quickly charged with agitating on account of his spiritualist views. Eventually, he was imprisoned, but because of his close ties to parts of the upper classes, Chronich was pardoned. Released from captivity, he moved to the Netherlands with his family, where he settled in the home of another millenarian, the Moravian

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pedagogue Joan Amos Comenius. A decree issued after Chronich had moved, however, stated that it was illegal for Danish-Norwegian students in the Netherlands to make contact with him. That Boehme’s writings also inspired other theologians is evidenced by the edifying work Aurora eller ny Morgenrøden (Aurora, or New Dawn), written by Peder Svegning (1615- 1671), parson on the isle of Stord in southwestern Norway. Although this work lacks Boehme’s more metaphysical and pantheistic speculations, it portrays a path of conversion and a religious breakthrough in a manner similar to that of Boehme. The author also reveals his belief in the divine harmony of mathematical laws by constructing the poem in accordance with a specific pattern of number symbolism revolving around the numbers three and seven. Overall, radical Pietists around the turn of the nineteenth century appear to have been more inspired by Boehme than by Paracelsus, and are more indebted to their predecessors’ spiritualism than to their natural philosophy.

References

Amundsen, A. Bugge and Henning Laugerud, Norsk fritenkerhistorie, Oslo: Humanist Forlag, 2001. Dahl, Gina, Questioning Religious Influence: Private Libraries of Clerics and Physicians in Bergen 1650–1750,, unpublished Dr. Art dissertation, Bergen, 2007. ——— . Mystikkens plass innenfor norsk åndsliv på 1600-tallet og dens mulige ettervirkninger, unpublished master’s thesis, Bergen, 2000. ——— . Books in Early Modern Norway, Leiden: Brill, 2011. Edvardsen, Edvard, Sapientia coelestis circa 1677, unpublished manuscript at The Royal Library in Copenhagen, transcribed version by Peder Borgen. Garstein, Oskar, Cort Aslakssøn: Studier over dansk-norsk universitets- og lærdomshistorie omkring år 1600, Oslo: Lutherstiftelsen, 1953. ——— . “A Reappraisal of Anna Rhodius: Religious Enthusiam and Social Unrest in Seven­teenth-Century Christiania, Norway”, Scandinavian Studies 65 (1993), 349– 389. Kragh, Helge (ed.), Fra Middelalderlærdom til Den Nye Videnskab, 1000–1730, Aarhus: Aarhus Universitetsforlag, 2005. Paulsen, Åshild, Magnus Berg. En kunstner ved kongens hoff, Oslo: Dreyer, 1989. Sejersted, Jørgen Magnus, Pasjonsdiktning på 1600-tallet. Det er noen kommentarer til Aurora eller ny Morgenrøden av dikterpresten på Stord Peder Oluffssøn Svegning, unpublished master’s thesis, Bergen, 1994.

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Shackelford, Jole, “Rosicrucianism, Lutheran Orthodoxy, and the Rejection of Para­ celsianism in Early Seventeenth-Century Denmark”, Bulletin of the History of Medicine 70 (1996), 181–204. ——— . “Hans Jochum Scharff: A Paracelsian Apothecary in 17th-Century Norway”, Norges Apotekerforenings Tidsskrift 95:9 (1987), 212–217. ——— . Paracelsianism in Denmark and Norway in the 16th and 17th Centuries, unpublished PhD dissertation, Wisconsin, 1989. ——— . A Philosophical Path for Paracelsian Medicine. The Ideas, Intellectual Context, and Influence of Petrus Severinus (1540/2–1602), Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 2004. Valkner, Kristen, “Konrektor Edvart Edvartzen. Til belysning av hans personlighet og verk”, Nordisk tidskrift för vetenskap, konst och industri 41 (1971), 426–439.

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Chapter 52 Paracelsianism in Sweden

Paracelsianism in Sweden Susanna Åkerman The first mention of Paracelsus in Sweden is in Simon Berchelt’s Om pestilenzen (On the Plague, 1589), in which readers are advised to use spagyric herbal medicines in order to cure the plague. Other useful substances include laudanum, calcinated antimony, and oil of vitriol. It is telling that the well-known spiritual alchemist Heinrich Khunrath (ca. 1560–1605) in 1597 offered a manuscript, Consilium de Vulcani magia fabrecatione armorum Achilles (Ms. Rål 4, 1597 (43), National Library of Sweden), to Duke Charles, later Charles IX, on the topic of the armour of Achilles, thought to be made of electrum, i.e., a mix of gold and silver. Such an armour would, supposedly, make its bearer invincible and, furthermore, a cup made of this electrum would signal if any liquid was poisonous. According to Khunrath’s own recipe, the electrum was made up of the seven metals forged together at an astrologically suitable time. Several Paracelsians, for example Gerhard Dorn (ca. 1530–1584), continued to develop Paracelsus’ spiritual-philosophic ideas. They saw alchemy as an al­­ ternative spirituality built around Paracelsus’ theological agenda and under­­stood his role as advocating a “Theophrastia Sancta” – a form of spirituality which stood in conflict with the established churches. The Swedish royal ar­chivist Johannes Bureus (1668–1652) would in several writings ally himself with this religious current. This was in line with the University Chancellor Johan Skytte’s (1577–1645) oration in 1640, welcoming the opening at Uppsala University for the “the double doors” of “Trismegistus’ and Theophrastus’ true philosophies”. As a Ramist logician and professor of rhetoric, Skytte welcomed critics of the ingrained Aristotelian scholasticism to Uppsala. One example is the German professor of medicine Johannes Raicus (1580–1632), who during his time at Uppsala published De phtisi ex tartaro (1628), a treaty on the nefarious disease of lungs caused by inhalation of stone particles – a disease dealt with by Paracelsus in Opus paramirum and explained by Raicus as a desiccation of the body. Moving to Dorpat in 1630, Raicus wrote on terra sigillata – a fat, claylike earth used as votive medicament. He explained that this substance was composed of axungia solis et luna and anima solis, i.e., fat of gold, fat of silver, and soul of gold, meaning oils based on Sulphur and balms of Mercury, which when combined with the metallic root vitriol produces anima solis. Another aspect of this welcoming attitude towards Paracelsianism was the reception of Daniel Sennert (1572–1637) from Wittenberg and his modified © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_054

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theory of the mixture of elements to explain the “life” of metals. Sennert’s theory was commented upon by a number of Uppsala professors, such as Olavus Unonius, Martinus Gestrinius, Isaacus Isthmenius, and especially Ericus Danielus Achrelius, whose De admirabili et pulcherrima microcosmia hoc est hominis fabrica et structura (1627) treats of the chemical medicines obtained by these mixtures in metals. Skytte’s speech at Uppsala was followed by the adoption of Johannes Bureus’ design for the University Seal with a globe inscribed IHVH and the text Gratiae veritas naturae – the truth of grace and nature – showing the two sources for natural light in Paracelsian theology and science, namely heavenly grace and the study of nature.

Johannes Bureus and the Lion Prophecy

Bureus practised alchemy and was enamoured with Paracelsian ideas. In particular, he devoted himself to the prophetic parts of Paracelsus’ writings and attached particular significance to certain numbers, inspired by the Rosicrucian Reformation, using these numbers in order to interpret the Apocalypse. He also developed a three-tiered chronology marking significant revelations in the field of learning, thus creating links to the Reformation and to Renaissance scholars:

˗˗  1396, the year of the emergence of John [Jan] Hus (1369–1415), the first ˗˗ ˗˗

European reformer, as well as the year of the opening of the Greek school by Manuel Chrysoloras (1355–1415), the translator of Plato and author of a Greek grammar in the same year.  1530, or the coming forth of Martin Luther (1483–1546) and the opening of the Hebrew school through Johannes Reuchlin (1455–1522), the Christian Kabbalist.  1614, when ‘was heard the sacred voice “as a call from the desert” which was raised to a sense never higher’ – a reference to the Rosicrucian manifestos (Ms. R 551a, Uppsala UB).

In his Adulruna manuscripts Bureus also developed the idea of the “Cherubinic Lion” that is going to reveal the ultimate sense of scripture, as prophesied in Rev. 5:5. Bureus’ lion was modelled on the Paracelsian idea of “der Löwe aus der Mitternacht”, or the Lion of the North, who at the end of time shall bring out the hidden meaning of the Apocalypse. This lion is referred to in the Rosicrucian Confessio Fraternitatis RC (1615) with the line ‘our treasures shall remain

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untouched and unstirred, until the Lion doth come, who will ask them for his use, and employ them for the confirmation and establishment of his kingdom’ (transl. Thomas Vaughan in Yates 1972: 255). Paracelsus’ prophecy stated that three treasures would be found in Europe and that the Midnight Lion of the North would take possession of them. The prophecy circulated again among radical Paracelsians in various forms after 1600. The first use of it in Sweden appears to have been in a letter by Michael Lotich to Charles IX in 1605 (Ms. D 363, National Library of Sweden, Stockholm). Lotich wrote about the coming of “einer aus der Mitternacht” and drew designs depicting the passage of the great conjunctions of Saturn and Jupiter from the watery to the fiery trigon, and placed a sword topped by a star upon a Leo-inscribed altar. The “fiery trigon” is the pattern of passage of the planets in the zodiacal signs of Aries in 1583, to that of Sagittarius in December-January of 1603/04 and, significantly, to that of Leo in 1623. The importance placed on the great conjunctions between Jupiter and Saturn and their significance had been discussed since Abū Maʿshar, Jaʿfar ibn Muḥammad al-Balkhī’s ninth century text, known in the West as De magnis conjunctionibus, and was applied to the case of Bohemia by Cyprian Leowitz at Prague in 1563. Johannes Kepler (1571–1630) calculated the regular triangular pattern of the great conjunctions in 1596, and in his De nova stella in pede Serpentarii (1606), he pointed out that it was the seventh such passage since creation. Significantly, the Rosicrucian Fama refers to it with the line ‘trigono igneo that will give us the last light’, which is plain to view once one has grasped Abū Maʿshar’s theory. The celestial mechanics raised the expectations for the year 1603/04 and furthermore implied there was to be a hidden leonine significance to the year 1623 (Åkerman 1998: 109, 214). The Paracelsian Lion of the Darkest Night was a biblical symbol for how the higher self lies slumbering in consciousness. This lion-related lore was given political and heraldic significance as lions appeared on various princely crests and was interpreted in terms of the biblical tale of the apocalyptic struggle between the lion and the eagle in chapters 11 and 12 of the apocryphal Fourth Book of Ezra (2nd Esdras) (Hamilton 1999). This symbolism was employed in a prophecy that predicted that the northern Protestant powers would rise to power. A similar eschatological scenario was contained in Michael Sendivogius’ prophecy of a fourth and northern kingdom in which the alchemical secrets would be revealed and society would prosper. In 1619, Johannes Plaustrarius, a then well-known millenarian, made a prophecy for Frederick V, “the Winter King” of Bohemia, the former now contending that the latter was the biblical Lion of the Woods. After Frederick’s defeat at Prague the prophecies changed accordingly. In 1625, the Protestant leader August of Anhalt sent two texts to

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Bureus which Johan Nordström has shown were two copies of a version of the Lion prophecy (Nordström 1934). A year before, the collector of Rosicrucian books at Lübeck, Joachim Morsius, visited Bureus in Stockholm to study his Buccina, an important text of apocalyptic chronology written by the latter (Schneider 1929). Later in 1625, Morsius under the pseudonym “Anastasius Philareta Cosmopolita” published his new version of the Lion prophecy in Denmark to mark out Christian IV as the new Lion. The text also reached a significant Dutch readership via the Amsterdam-based author Anton Hober­ weschel von Hobenfeldt (Hobenfeldt is mentioned in Anastasius Philareta Cosmopolita’s Lion pamphlet collected in MS. A 200 c, Uppsala University Library). The spread of the prophecy in northern Europe thus appears to have been the work of a Rosicrucian political pressure-group. Sigfridus Aronus Forsius (1550–1624), who was interested in these prognostications, but was not a member of these groups, had already in 1611 produced a work in manuscript form entitled Physica that referred to the Paracelsian elemental spirits of earth, air, fire, and water (represented as gnomes, sylphs, salamanders, and undines) and the trinity of Salt, Sulphur, and Mercury in order to explain the creation. It was reviewed for publication in 1653, but the University did not grant Forsius permission to publish it.

The Botanist and Alchemist Johannes Franck

In Stockholm, Queen Christina (1626–1689) was approached by the alchemist, botanist and physician Johannes Franck (1590–1661). He described her realm as the place where a possible future fulfilment of Paracelsus’ prophecy on the return of the alchemical adept Elias Artista could take place. The biblical theme referred to was the heavenly ascent and return of the prophet Elijah, inspired by the Biblical passage ‘See I am sending you the prophet Elijah before the arrival of the great and dreadful day of the Lord’ (Malachi 4: 5). This eagerly anticipated return generated new expectations that contemporary Paracelsian chemical science would gain in influence. The name Elias Artista was interpreted as a collective, symbolising alchemists as a united group. Franck argued that Sweden would also represent the fulfilment of the Polish adept Sendivogius’ vision on the rise of a “metallic monarchy” in the North. Franck published these prophecies in his work De principis constitutivis lapidis philosophici, theses hermeticae (Hermetic Theses on the Basic Principles of the Philosopher’s Stone, 1645). Franck wanted to urge Queen Christina to start searching for the Philosopher’s Ruby Red Powder, a material capable of generating the Philosopher’s Stone. He expressed these thoughts in an alchemical tract written in Swedish that he dedicated to her: Colloquium

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philosophicum cum diis montanis. Thet är: Ett Lustigt och Liufligt Samtaal emillan the Förnembsta och Edelste Berg-Gudar och een Högförfaren Philosopho Zamolxides benämnd: Om den Edle och Dyrbare Klenodien Lapide philosophorum (Philosophic Debate with the Gods of the Mountains, 1651). This lively tale of a philosopher on a quest in the mineral realm is in large parts a translation of another tract, Xamolxides, Tractatus Aureus, printed in Benedict Figulus’ (Töpfer), Thesaurinella Olympica aurea (An Olympic and Golden Little Treasure Trove, 1608). In 1645, when Johannes Franck made Sendivogius’ prophecy known in Sweden, he could not have had on anyone else in mind than Queen Christina, as he dedicated the text to her. This was especially the case since he argues that Paracelsus’ prophecy regarding Elias Artista (which he published at the same time) would be fulfilled in 1658 by the revelation of the secrets of alchemy to the common people. The Swedish ex-Queen had the collected works of Paracelsus in her Roman library and eagerly acquired volumes of alchemy and esoteric medicine. In her maxims, the medically interested Queen Christina even adopts Paracelsus’ motto: ‘One who can belong to himself, shall not belong to anyone else’ (Alterius non sit qui suus esse potest).

Enlightenment Critique of Paracelsian Prophecy

In 1709, the critic of astrology and alchemist Magnus Gabriel von Block (1669– 1722) attacked Paracelsus’ prophecies and dismissed the thought that Charles XII could be the Lion of the North. The chemist Urban Hjärne (1641–1724), at work at the spa Medevi brunn, now stepped in to defend the Hermetic worldview and its focus on divination. A heated debate followed between them on the value of Paracelsian cosmology. Block saw the Paracelsian model of nature as flawed, while Hjärne continued to abide by Paracelsian concepts. Despite their fundamental differences, both worked in the alchemical tradition. The struggle between von Block and Hjärne was the last phase of Paracelsian influence on natural philosophy in Sweden. The last generation of scientists who systematically depended on Paracelsian ideas soon died out. The only people to carry on Paracelsus’ legacy were members of various esoteric orders, who kept the system because it seemed to them a means of shedding light on the tripartite constitution of human beings into body, soul, and spirit.

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The Spiritual Legacy of Paracelsian Regeneration

An indirect source of this latter view in Sweden, that continued to be influential until the end of the nineteenth century, was the German spiritualist Johann Arndt’s (1555–1621) Vier Bücher vom wahren Christentum (1610), in which spiritual regeneration is seen as taking an alchemical form. This text was translated into Swedish in 1647 and republished many times. Thus, Paracelsian spirituality had its hold on Swedish readers almost up to modern times, albeit not in medicine but in daily contemplation in Christian pietistic circles.

References

Åkerman, Susanna, Rose Cross Over the Baltic: The Spread of Rosicrucianism in Northern Europe, Leiden: Brill, 1998. Edenborg, Carl-Michael (ed.), Johannes Franck: alkemiska skrifter, Stockholm: Philosophiska förlaget, 1992. Gilly, Carlos, “‘Theophrastia Sancta’. Paracelsianism as a Religion, in Conflict with the Established Churches”, in: Transformation of Paracelsism 1500–1800: Alchemy, Chem­ istry and Medicine (Glasgow-Symposium 15–19 September 1993), Leiden: Brill, 1998, 151–185. ——— . “The ‘Midnight Lion’, the ‘Eagle’ and the ‘Antichrist’: Political, Religious and Chiliastic Propaganda in the Pamphlets, Illustrated Broadsheets and Ballads of the Thirty Years War”, Nederlands Archief voor Kerkgeschiedenis 80 (2000), 46–77. ———. (ed.), Rosenkreutz als Europäische Phänomen, Amsterdam: In de Pelikaan, 2002. Hamilton, Alaistair, The Apocryphal Apocalypse: The Reception of the Book of Esdras (4 Ezra) from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1999. Klemming, G.E., “Anteckningar av Johannes Thomae Agrivillensis Bureus”, Samlaren 4 (1883), 12–43, 71–126. Lindroth, Sten, Paracelsismen i Sverige till 1600-talets mitt, Uppsala: Lychnos-bibliotek, 7 (1943). ———. Magnus Gabriel von Block. Svenska akademiens minnesteckningar, Stockholm: Norstedts, 1973. ——— . Svensk Lärdomshistoria. Del 2. Stormaktstiden. Stockholm: Norstedts, Stock­ holm, 1975–1981. Nordström, Johan, “Lejonet från Norden”, Samlaren Ny följd 15 (1934), 1–66. Schneider, Heinrich, Joachim Morsius und sein Kreis, Lübeck: Otto Quitzow Verlag, 1929. Yates, Frances, The Rosicrucian Enlightenment, London: Chapman & Hall, 1972.

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Chapter 53 Early Modern Rosicrucianism in Denmark

Rosicrucianism in the Early Modern Period in Denmark Jole Shackelford Rosicrucianism was an idealistic movement of the counter-Reformation pe­riod that was officially proclaimed in 1614 by the anonymously published manifesto Fama fraternitatis Roseæ Crucis oder Die Bruderschaft des Ordens der Rosenkreuzer (Rumour of the Brotherhood of the Rosy Cross) in Kassel, Germany. This was soon followed by the anonymous Confessio oder Bekenntnis der Societät und Bruderschaft Rosenkreuz (The Confession of the Rosicrucian Society and Brotherhood) and Secretioris philosophiæ consideratio brevis (A Brief Consideration of a More Secret Philosophy) in 1615, and the alchemicalreligious allegory Chymische Hochzeit Christiani Rosenkreutz (The Chemical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz) by Johan Valentin Andreæ in 1616. These tracts are thought to be the product of a collaboration among a looselyaffiliated group of students and religious thinkers in Tübingen and Marburg during the first fifteen years of the seventeenth century, which included Johan Valentin Andreæ. Although advertised as a brotherhood, there is no historical evidence to support the actual existence of a Rosicrucian organisation in the early seventeenth century, and historians regard it as an informal intellectual and spiritual movement with a coherent, but loosely defined ideological basis that was expressed through manuscript and printed letters, pamphlets, and treatises that circulated in northern Europe in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries.

Lutheran Concordists Oppose Continued Reformation

The main thematic currents of the Rosicrucian ideology were grounded in the frustration felt by many Protestants who were disillusioned with the direction that the Reformation had taken after Martin Luther’s death. Turning away from dogma, the Rosicrucian authors and their spiritualist predecessors, among whom were Johan Arndt and Valentin Weigel, instead drew concepts and terminology from alchemical and Paracelsian medical and religious tracts along with the chief texts of medieval mysticism and Renaissance Hermetism. These writers sought to further the process of religious reformation, which had been

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betrayed by confessional bickering and had become ossified in the magisterial reforms of Luther and, ultimately, the conservative turn that Luthera­nism took with the Formula of Concord (1577). The Formula of Concord was, as its name suggests, an attempt to create unity among the diverse protestant factions within the broad Lutheran camp that had appeared during the tumultuous years of argument over the Augsburg Confession (1530–1540), which defined the central beliefs of the Lutheran denomination. Between 1540 and 1580, a predominantly rationalist faction of Luther’s followers, took its inspiration from Philip Melanchthon’s curricular initiatives and his basic idea that Protestant unity should not be sacrificed to intransigent positions on doctrinal matters that he did not view as central to the creed. He taught that religion and natural philosophy ought to be mutually supportive and he sought a measure of accommodation with the variant confessional formulations, thus healing the greatest rifts that threatened Protestant harmony. The Philippists, as they were known, advocated tolerance and broad interpretation of Calvinist positions on the nature of Christ, Baptism, the Lord’s Supper, and related issues, and were consequently labelled Crypto-Calvinists (closet Calvinists) by opponents who regarded themselves as Luther’s true followers. Guided by the powerful theological voices of Johannes Brenz, Jakob Andreæ, and Martin Chemnitz, and with the support of the powerful Elector August of Saxony, who was married to the sister of King Frederik II of Denmark, the Gnesio-Lutheran (ultra-orthodox) party was organised to define narrowly the Lutheran creed; they determined to denounce and suppress the Philippists and created the Formula of Concord, which was used to exclude Philippist tolerance of confessional variants. The Book of Concord, which bound the Formula with Luther’s Catechism and other fundamental codifications of the Lutheran creed, was legitimated by the Saxon elector as defining a unified Lutheranism that could stand up to political and religious forces within the Protestant world and the threat of Catholic counter-reformation. However, it also presented a narrow definition of the faith, which left many self-proclaimed Lutherans outside of the fold, to be branded by the orthodox with such appellations as “enthusiasts”.

Concordists and Philippists in Denmark

All of this touched Danes quite closely, since Denmark and the North German duchies also ruled by Frederik II were reformed by the followers of Philipp Melanchthon and attempted to follow a Lutheran path of moderation that was tolerant of Calvinism and other sectarian tendencies. Pressured by his

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brother-in-law Elector August to suppress Philippism in Denmark, Frederik II reasserted the Danish Church’s commitment to the Augsburg Confession and forced the strident Danish Philippist leader Niels Hemmingsen (1513– 1600) to retire from the theological faculty of the University of Copenhagen. However, Frederik II, who had patronised the sciences and opened the door to Paracelsian medicine and philosophy in Denmark during the 1570s and 1580s, perceived the threat to national unity and participation in wider European Renaissance culture that the confessional rigidity of the Formula implied and consequently outlawed the Book of Concord. The Danish Church’s determination to steer its own Lutheran course, with Philippists at the helm, persisted into the first decade of the seventeenth century. But then a handful of young Danish scholars, who had been imbued with Gnesio-Lutheran ideas during their theological studies in Germany, began turning the Danish Church onto a decidedly orthodox heading. The officially-sanctioned Danish and Norwegian religion and church discipline would remain on this orthodox heading for most of the century. The window of opportunity for Rosicrucianism in Denmark was rather narrow. Danes showed little awareness of the Rosicrucian manuscripts that had circulated and been secretly discussed in Germany by the time their academic and religious leaders moved to defend orthodoxy and suppress ideas that challenged it. There is scant evidence for Danish interest in the complex of heterodox religious ideas associated with Paracelsus, Valentin Weigel, and the Rosicrucians prior to the second decade of the seventeenth century. Paracelsus’ religious tracts were slow to diffuse beyond German-speaking lands, and the principal purveyors of Paracelsian medical and philosophical ideas in late sixteenth-century Denmark – Tycho Brahe (1541–1601), Petrus Severinus (1542–1602), and Johannes Pratensis (1543–1576) – left no indications of any interest in Paracelsian religion, although they were sympathetic to Philippism. Caspar Bartholin (1585–1629) and Ole Worm (1588–1655) were students in north Germany 1607–1612, during the years when Rosicrucian ideology was taking shape in Tübingen and Marburg, and returned to Copenhagen to follow medical careers that were marked by a strong commitment to Aristotelian natural philosophy and a conservative Lutheran disposition toward medical discussions that impinged on the central tenets of the faith. For example, Paracelsians taught that powerful medicines could be made by recovering the vital balsam that persisted in human body parts after a premature death, an idea that Caspar Bartholin rejected as contrary to the Lutheran teachings on death and resurrection, which were central to the Christian faith. Both during their student years and after they returned to take teaching positions at the University of Copenhagen in 1613, Bartholin and Worm exhibited no sympathy

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with the matrix of ideas that would be openly identified as Rosicrucian after the public announcement of the brotherhood in 1614.

Alarm over Suspected Rosicrucian and Paracelsian Sedition

The publication of the treatises proclaiming the Rosicrucian Brotherhood came at a pivotal moment in Danish church history, which helps explain the very limited effect of Rosicrucianism in early modern Denmark. In 1614, when Fama fraternitatis was published, Hans Poulsen Resen (1561–1638), the senior professor of theology at the University of Copenhagen and an orthodox Lutheran opponent of Philippism in Denmark, was accused by the dominant Philippist faction of endorsing the Formula of Concord in violation of Frederik II’s policy. Supported by King Christian IV, his royal chancellor, and the powerful and theologically influential nobleman Holger Rosenkranz, Resen successfully defended himself and then turned the tables on his accusers. The following year (1615) he was appointed Bishop Primate and assumed control of the Danish Church, which under his guidance entered upon what Danish church historians have labelled the first period of Lutheran orthodoxy (1615–1660). Also in 1615, the German chemist and prolific polemicist Andreas Libavius (ca. 1550–1616) published the first of several tracts attacking Paracelsian medicine and Rosicrucian religion, which he perceived as integrally enmeshed, heretical, and politically dangerous. In Libavius’ view, the Rosicrucian calls for reform sounded a “war horn of sedition” that promised to rekindle the Anabaptist movement that had led to the tragedy of the Münster rebellion. Libavius’ words must have sounded an alarm for Ole Worm, then professor of philosophy at the University of Copenhagen, for he began to write to his friends looking for news of the new brotherhood and to read whatever printed tracts he could obtain, including a number authored by the anonymous Irenæus Agnosta, who according to Worm called himself the secretary of the Rosicrucian Brotherhood. Referring to what Libavius had written in his 1615–1616 treatises attacking the Rosicrucians, Worm spoke out against the brotherhood in an official university graduation address at the end of the spring semester 1619. Worm and his medical colleague Caspar Bartholin had for years steadfastly defended Aristotelian principles, taking positions against specific claims made by Paracelsians or Rosicrucians that threatened religious orthodoxy. Worm persisted in rejecting Paracelsian ideas that clearly ran contrary to Aristotelian and Galenic teaching after he replaced Bartholin in medical faculty, a position he retained until his death in 1654. In short, philosophical orthodoxy and religious orthodoxy unified the intellectual leadership

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of Denmark at the outbreak of the Thirty Years’ War, which soon drew the kingdom into military, economic, and eventually political crisis. Under these conditions, the stimulus for further reformation that underlay the Rosicrucian movement was forced into the Danish Church’s shadow, where it was reshaped into a lay pietist movement.

Rosicrucians and the Paracelsian Roots of Pietism

In a general sense, the religious impulse behind the early Rosicrucian tracts, which were shaped in Tübingen by Johan Valentin Andreæ and his circle of friends, reflected the pietistic direction of Johan Arndt’s religion. Arndt was an eager student of Lutheran theology, but also aspired to Paracelsian chemistry, and the result was a sensitivity to the mystical side of Luther’s early thought and what Arndt characterised as a spiritual awakening. In the late 1590s, Arndt turned away from the Concordist ideas and the confessional debates that had riven the Protestant fold and embraced the cause of further reformation; He returned to Luther’s early teachings, before the practicalities of the magisterial reform overtook his inspiration from the medieval German mystical writers. Arndt’s reawakening inspired Andreæ and the other early Rosicrucians at Tübingen and Marburg, but also led him to write Four Books of True Christianity, which he published between 1605 and 1610. These combined Paracelsian philosophical ideas with traditional Lutheran formulations and a pervasive commitment to spiritual rebirth in this life that derived from the medieval German unio mystica, the mystical union of man and God in this life. The first three books of True Christianity were met with immediate criticism by orthodox Lutheran writers, while the fourth, which described the study of the book of nature as a way to understand divinity and openly quoted Paracelsus, elicited little comment. The subject of Book IV did not touch directly on human nature and the nature of Christ, which were sensitive points of doctrine, and it was not subjected to censure. Arndt’s books seem to have won adherents among Denmark’s elite, inasmuch as they were translated into Danish in manuscript about the time that orthodoxy took control of the church. Book IV was printed in Danish in 1618 and dedicated to the king’s favoured mistress, Kirsten Munk (1598–1658), but the first three would not appear in print for another seventy years, implying that the forces that opposed Paracelsian or Rosicrucian philosophy and religion also suppressed the spread of Arndt’s mystical piety. Legislation against the printing and distribution of foreign religious texts throughout this period aimed to discourage the dissemination of separatist and enthusiastic religious

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ideas that were mainly coming from Germany and Holland, but also worked against the Jesuit counter-reformation; it provided the Danish and Norwegian church with the legal apparatus to discourage pietism and enforce doctrinal and disciplinary conformity to a strict Lutheran interpretation through the rest of the century. To the extent that the impulses of further reformation that underlay the Rosicrucian movement persisted in Denmark-Norway, they must have gone underground, kept alive in the conventicles that the state church persecuted, or else transformed into a quietistic piety that would eventually emerge in the Pietist movement of Jakob Spener, who himself was an ardent follower of Johan Arndt’s religion. J.V. Andreæ, arguably the single most productive writer of the Tübingen Rosicrucians, followed such a path himself. After publicly identifying himself as a Rosicrucian sympathiser with the publication of the Chemical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz in 1616, he recognised the danger that conservative reaction promised and renounced his Rosicrucian writing as youthful fantasy, a jest. Yet throughout his lifetime he reformulated his ideal of a Rosicrucian-like brotherhood within the limits of Lutheran orthodoxy, presenting it in less revolutionary form in the utopian Christianopolis (1619), Christianiæ societatis imago (1619, 1620), and Christiani amoris dextera porrecta (1620, 1621). Andreæ’s path of spiritual transformation was recreated in Denmark by Holger Rosenkrantz (1574–1642). Rosenkrantz, an intensely orthodox Lutheran and Aristotelian during his years as a student in Germany, had supported Resen in the effort to unify the Danish Church in conformity with a strict interpretation of the Augsburg Confession, but also underwent a kind of Arndtian spiritual awakening. His public support for Lutheran orthodoxy did not flag while he served the Danish government, but after withdrawing to private life, he became more public about his pious heterodoxy, which brought him into conflict with the Danish Church authorities. The lives of Rosenkrantz and Andreæ aptly capture the evolution of Rosicrucian idealism from the heady days of its formative period in the first decade of the century, as an enthusiastic fusion of Paracelsian chemical philosophy and theology, German mysticism, and the desire to reawaken the spirit of Luther’s reformation, which had gone off its rails during the confessional disputes of the sixteenth century. Lacking institutional support and threatened by orthodox churchmen, frightened aristocrats, and traditional educators, this idealism quieted down with the outbreak of the Thirty Years War, laying the foundations for Protestant Pietism.

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References

Agnosta, Irenæus, Clypseum veritatis (1618), Fons Gratiæ (1618), Speculum constantiæ (1618) and several books epitomising and defending the Rosicrucian Brotherhood that were published in 1619 and 1620 are collected together in a bound volume belonging to the Royal Library of Copenhagen, which began as Frederik III’s library. Andersen, J. Oskar, Holger Rosenkrantz den Lærde. En biografisk Skildring med Bidrag og Belysning af danske Kirke- og Studieforhold i det syttende Aarhundredes første Halvdel, Copenhagen: August Bangs Boghandels Forlag, 1896. Arvidsson, Bengt, Naturlig teologi och naturteologi: Naturen som bild i dansk fromhetstradition omkring år 1600, Lund: Lund University Press, 1990. ——— . “Wissenschaft und Frömmigkeit Johann Arndt in der dänischen Geistes­ geschichte der ersten Hälfte des 17. Jahrhunderts”, in: Anders Jarlert (ed.), Johann Arndt. Rezeption und Reaktion im Nordisch-Baltischen Raum, Lund: Lund University Press, 1999, 27–33. Dickson, Donald R., “Johannes Saubert, Johann Valentin Andreæ and the Unio Chris­ tiana”, German Life and Letters 49 (1996), 18–31. Edighoffer, Roland, “Andreæ, Johan Valentin”, in: Wouter J. Hanegraaff, et al. (eds.), Dictionary of Gnosis & Western Esotericism, Leiden: Brill, 2005, 72–75. Fink-Jensen, Morten, Fornuften under Troens Lydighed: Naturfilosofi, Medicin og Teologi I Danmark 1536–1636, Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Forlag, 2004. Gilly, Carlos, “‘Theophrastia Sancta’ – Paracelsianism as a Religion, in Conflict with the Established Churches”, in: Ole Grell (ed.), Paracelsus: The Man and His Reputation, His Ideas and Their Transformation, Leiden: Brill, 1998, 151–185. Glebe-Møller, Jens, Doctrina secundem pietatem. Holger Rosenkrantz den Lærdes teologi, diss., Copenhagen, Institut for dansk kirkehistorie, 1966. ———. “Holger Rosenkrantz, Arndt og Andreä. Uortodokse strømninger i ortodoksiens tid”, Kirkehistoriske Samlinger (1963–1965), 306–318. Libavius, Andreas, Analysis Confessiones Fraternitatis de Rosea Cruce, Frankfurt am Main, 1615. ——— . Wolmeinendes Bedencken von der Fama und Confession der Bruderschafft dess Rosen Creutzes, Frankfurt, 1616. Shackelford, Jole, “Paracelsianism and the Orthodox Lutheran Rejection of Vital Phi­los­ ophy in Early Seventeenth-Century Denmark”, Early Science and Medicine 8 (2003), 210–252. ——— . “Rosicrucianism, Lutheran Orthodoxy, and the Rejection of Paracelsianism in Early Seventeenth-Century Denmark”, Bulletin of the History of Medicine 70 (1996), 181–204. ——— . “Western Esotericism and the History of European Science and Medicine in the Early Modern Period”, in: Tore Ahlbäck (ed.), Western Esotericism. Scripta Instituti

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Donneriani Aboensis XX, Åbo: Donner Institute for Research in Religious and Cul­ tural History, 2008, 173–203. Wallmann, Johannes, “Johann Arndt (1555–1621)”, in: Carter Lindberg (ed.), The Pietist Theologians: An Introduction to Theology in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries, Oxford: Blackwell, 2005, 21–37. Worm, Ole, Breve fra og til Ole Worm, H.D. Schepelern (ed.), 3 vols. Copenhagen: Det danske sprog- og litteraturselskab, 1965–1968. ——— . Laurea philosophica summa, Copenhagen: Henrik Waldkirch, 1619.

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Chapter 54 Early Modern Rosicrucianism in Sweden

Rosicrucianism in the Early Modern Period in Sweden Susanna Åkerman

Johannes Bureus: the First Swedish Rosicrucian

The Rosicrucian message reached Sweden shortly after the anonymous publication of the original Rosicrucian Manifestos in Germany. When the Royal archivist Johannes Bureus (1568–1652) had read the first Rosicrucian tract Fama Fraternitatis RC (Kassel, 1614), which presents a secret society guarding hidden knowledge soon to be revealed, he published his own answer to the Rosicrucian call in his short tract FRC Fama e Scanzia redux (1616), which in seven sections presents biblical verses pointing to the dawning of the new age. It was in particular the prophetic aspects of the Rosicrucian movement that seem to have attracted Bureus, and in his tract he draws special attention to Balaam’s passage on the coming of ‘a star out of Jacob and [that] a sceptre shall rise out of Israel’ (Numbers 24:17), an allusion to the hidden significance of the new star of 1602 in the Swan, also called the Northern Cross, and the second one in Serpentarius (the “Serpent-Bearer”, now more commonly referred to as Ophiuchus) in 1604, both mentioned in the Rosicrucian Fama. To explain his vision, Bureus uses prophecies ‘from the jawbone of the Ass’ – Balaam’s Ass – who before anyone else saw the Angel of the Lord (Numbers 22:23). Signed “BisvATI Ierubbabel”, a signature that conceals an inverted acronym of Bureus’ full, Latinised name Johannes Thomae Agrivilensis Bureus, or ITAB, his pamphlet was called Buccina Jubilei Ultimi – The Trumpet of the Ultimate Jubilee with the subtitle Hyperboreic Prediction of Eos, Smiting With Resplendent Noise the Summits of the Mountains of Europe, Sounding Amidst the Hills and Valleys of Arabia. The pamphlet specifically announces recent discoveries of “northern antiquities” that would be instrumental for the new reform of science, arts, and society. Essential to Bureus’ work was the idea of a prisca theologia – ancient theology – the Renaissance concept denoting a supposedly pristine form of thought created at the very beginning of time, yet still valid. Key to this idea of the ancient theology was the belief that the Christian doctrine of salvation had already been formulated during an early Golden Age, albeit in pagan terms.

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The wisdom of the ancients was generally attributed to figures such as Hermes and Zoroaster. Bureus’ ideas on the northern antiquities constitute a similar theory about a form of proto-Christian knowledge, but in his case ancient wisdom is seen as part of the spiritual heritage of the northern, Hyperborean peoples. Toward the end of his life, Bureus dedicated a manuscript to the coming Queen Christina with speculations on the mystical origin of the Runes, entitled Adulruna rediviva (1643), as well as a copy of his apocalyptic work, Nord­landalejonsens rytande (The Roar of the Northern Lion, 1644). Bureus begins the latter with a passage directed to Queen Christina on the succession of three ages, the third and final of which would soon commence. Perhaps he also showed her his answer to the Rosicrucian Fama. Bureus’ presence at the court may have influenced Christina’s interest in Christian esoteric mysticism and at the same time have given her hope for a new and highly effective spagyric and alchemical medicine. Bureus’ writings had a small but interested readership, and he sent his Fama e Scanzia redux to the Boehme scholar Abraham von Franckenberg, who in turn in 1646 sent it on to the famous Jesuit and Hermeticist Athanasius Kircher in Rome. Franckenberg discussed Bureus with Kircher in a series of letters up until 1652 (see Kircher’s correspondence, deposited at Archivio Pontificale Universitario Gregoriana, Rome).

Gustaf Bonde

The most important person connected to the Golden Rosy Cross in eighteenthcentury Sweden was the parliamentarian and count Gustaf Bonde till Björnö (1682–1764), one of Emanuel Swedenborg’s colleagues at the Board of Mines and an avid collector of Rosicrucian pamphlets. The Order of the Golden and Rosy Cross, which influenced Bonde, was secretly founded in Naples 1678, but was made known to the world in 1710 by Sincerus Renatus (Samuel Richter) under the formal name Orden des Gülden- und Rosen Creutzes. Their aim was to perfect the soul of initiated individuals through alchemy. Gustaf Bonde developed his own form of excremental alchemy, based on swallowing the same golden nugget each morning, thus using the body as an athanor. In his anonymous mythopoetic and alchemical study, Clavicula hermetica scientiae ab quaedam hyperboreo (The Small Key to the Hermetic Sciences, 1751), Bonde places John Dee’s famous Monas symbol among the numbers that form a Pythagorean tetractus (a pyramid of dots in the series 1, 2,

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3, 4 giving a sum of 10). This figure, according to Bonde, explicated the divine light in letters and numerical signs. Bonde had a large esoteric library and among the books there were several alchemical texts, but tellingly also the important collection Kabbala denudata (Sulzbach, 1677), translated into Latin from Hebrew by Christian Knorr von Rosenroth. Bonde also owned Johannes Reuchlin’s ground-breaking Renais­ sance text De arte cabalistica (Hagenau, 1517) (Bonde’s book register Ms. E 9356, National Archives of Sweden, Stockholm and the auction catalogue of Stockholms Stads Bokauk­tionskammare 11–12 November, 1932, no. 10. pp. 16–35). In 1760 Bonde published a commentary on the kabbalistic source text Zohar in Lärda Tidningar that was reviewed at Lund University in a series of open seminars, printed together with a hyperborean language analysis by Bonde in sixteen parts, in which he showed the supposedly northern origins of the stems and roots of various languages. It was now, in 1763, that Gustaf Bonde let himself be painted in the costume of the Royal Order of the Seraphim against the background of a pillar inscribed with an obscure pentagram, a sign used already by the Pythagoreans as a sigil. To the Greeks, the pentagram symbolised bodily and spiritual hygeia or health. The pentagram also signals a further esoteric connection. In Reuchlin’s De arte cabalistica there is a pentagram inscribed with the five letters of the Christian kabbalistic name of God. That is, the Hebrew unspeakable name JHVH (Jahveh) completed with the three-pointed letter “shin” forming the name of Christ JHSVH (Jesus). Kabbalah was for this reason seen to conceal a Christian secret. Another sign of Bonde’s central position in the Swedish esoteric tradition is Eric Choraelius’ tract, Utkast til en Jämförelse emellan Den Bibliska och Werlds­ liga Historien (Draft of a Comparison Between Biblical and Profane History, 1760). It has an introduction dedicated to Gustaf Bonde and treats of the Hebrew letters’ special significance: every point and curve has its own meaning which can be interpreted by spiritual hermeneutics. Kabbalah is said to awaken nishmat hajim or spiraculum vitarum, i.e., the Spirit of Life in ecstatic perceptions of how the soul and the body are united. Choraelius here presented a theory regarding the identity of Hermes of Egypt, and claimed that Thoth was the first Hermes, while Hermes Trismegistus stepped forth only after the rise of Christianity. The Hebrew texts Zohar (splendour) and Mercava (the heavenly chariot) are said to be the most important expressions of the kabbalistic tradition of spiritual receptivity, that is an expression of the female aspect of the Divine presence, schechina, during interpretation of the Divine Word by inspired prophets. Besides Kabbalah and magic, Gustaf Bonde’s library contained approximately one hundred alchemical writings and three manifestos of the Order of

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the Golden and Rosy Cross, for example S[incerus] R[enatus], Die wahrhaffte und volkommene Bereitung des philosophischen Steins der Brüderschafft aus dem Orden des Gülden und Rosen-Creutzes (Breslau, 1710). Renatus’ writings are also mentioned in correspondence between Gustaf Bonde and Nils Jacob Reuterholm, who were not alone at that time in their interest in esotericism. Magical and alchemical texts together with theosophical speculations by Sincerus Renatus are also to be found in the De Geer family’s Finspongsamling (i.e., archival materials deposited at Norrköping City Library). The influential modern institution Bibliotheca Philosophica Hermetica in Amsterdam includes in its collection a substantial volume of early Rosicrucian tracts that belonged to Gustaf’s relative, the alchemist Lorentz Fredrik Bonde (1715–1783), and his now dispersed collection of writings, the so-called Säfstaholmsamling. It can be shown that these tracts were bought by Gustaf Bonde, who was familiar with secret sciences and bookish arcana. The volume contains Johan Valentin Andreae’s allegory on the alchemical wedding, Chymische Hochzeit des Christia­ni Rosenkreutz, Anno 1459 (Strassburg, 1616), Michael Maier’s answer to the Rosicrucians, Silentium post clamores (Frankfurt, 1617), and Robert Fludd’s rare defence of the Rosicrucian program, Tractatus apologeticus integritatem Societatis de Roseae Cruce defendens (Leiden, 1617). Two volumes in folio by Fludd, including the Rosicrucian-inspired works Philosophia Moysaica, Summum Bonum and Medicina Catholica, all printed in the 1630s, carry the Säfstaholm exlibris and are now to be found at Carolina Rediviva, the university library of Uppsala University. These books also derive from Gustaf Bonde’s Hesselby collection (Ms. E 9356, National Archives of Sweden, Stockholm) which was incorporated in the Säfstaholm collection at the death of Bonde in 1763 and was finally sold at the Stockholm book auction in 1932. Bonde’s interest in the contemporary Golden Rosy Cross opened the way for him to acquire two of the original Rosicrucian manifestos, Fama fraternitatis Rosae Crucis and Confessio fraternitatis Rosae Crucis (1615). In addition to these original manifestos, he acquired other rare Rosicrucian works, such as Antwort über den Fama et Confessio (1615), Pyrrho Clidensis Redivivus (1616), Julianus de Campis’ Sendbrief von FRC (1615), Julius Sperber’s Echo von der Fraternität der RC, and the anonymous tracts, Bedencken ad Fama in Confessio FRC (1616), in addition to the prophetic text Helias tertius ad … FRC. (1616). The arrival of a third Elijah, prophesied in some of these texts, was sometimes interpreted as the emergence of a collective of alchemists with insight into the mysteries of creation, who were by some identified with the Rosicrucians.

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Illuminism, Freemasonry and Rosicrucianism

While the first Rosicrucian tracts were open manifestos written in the 1610s by small-town alchemists, travelling merchants and Paracelsian doctors, Rosicru­ cianism towards the end of the eighteenth century had acquired a distinctly aristocratic and secretive character. It was, particularly in the period from 1750 to 1815, often interpreted as part of the Illuminist movement. This was a late Enlightenment current with a spiritual focus on inner light and an inclination towards the occult. Illuminists studied what they understood to be the hidden powers of human nature, and in the process discovered the unconscious. In due course this took a more popular form in Mesmeristic séances, where “magnetic sleep”, a kind of hypnotic therapy, produced paranormal phenomena. These discoveries were particularly influential in the German-speaking world where the phenomenon was called Erleuchtung, illumination, in contrast to the well-known path of Aufklärung, enlightenment. Illuminism spread also to Sweden, but was there found mainly in secretive milieus at court or in the inner circles of some masonic groups. High degrees in several masonic systems are strongly connected to the Rose Cross. It is well-known, for instance, that the eighteenth degree of the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite (founded in 1801) uses the symbols of rose, the cross, and a pelican piercing its own chest to give blood and nourishment to its young. In this degree the candidate is initiated into the degree of Chevalier de Rose-Croix (Knight Rose Croix), which in the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite focuses on Christian mysticism, with Christ being symbolically identified with Christian Rosencreutz. The older so-called Acts of Eckleff, written in 1756 in Stockholm, describe the foundational ritual system of Swedish Freemasonry. Significantly, these acts end with a red seal with a rose, a cross and hand around which a snake is coiled, and the text: ‘Fide et prudentia colui donec …’ (I shall faithfully and vigilantly guard it until …). In the same spirit, the masonic library at the Bååtska Palace in Stockholm has collected some thirty Rosicrucian manuscripts from the second half of the eighteenth century. A host of printed Rosicrucian tracts can also be consulted, among them the illustrated compendium Geheime Figuren der Rosencreutzer (Altona, 1785).

References

Åkerman, Susanna, Rose Cross Over the Baltic: The Spread of Rosicrucianism in Northern Europe, Leiden: Brill, 1998.

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Bergé, Christine, “Illuminism”, in: Wouter J. Hanegraaff, et al. (eds.), Dictionary of Gnosis & Western Esotericism, Leiden: Brill, 2005, 600–606. Edenborg, Carl-Michael, Gull och mull: den monstruöse Gustaf Bonde …, Lund: Eller­ ströms, 1997. Edighoffer, Roland, “Rosicrucianism I”, in: Wouter J. Hanegraaff, et al. (eds.), Dictionary of Gnosis & Western Esotericism, Leiden: Brill, 2005, 1009–1014. Gilly, Carlos, Cimelia Rhodostaurotica: Die Rosenkreutzer im Spiegel der zwischen 1610 und 1660 entstandenen Handschriften und Drucke, Amsterdam: In de Pelikaan, 1995. ——— . (ed.), Rosenkreutz als europäisches Phänomen im 17. Jahrhundert, Amsterdam: In de Pelikaan, 2002. Gustaf Bonde’s library sold at Stockholms Stads Bokauktionskammare 11–12 November, 1932, no. 10, 16–35. Klemming, G.E., “Anteckningar av Johannes Thomae Agrivillensis Bureus”, Samlaren 4 (1883) 12–43, 71–126. Lindroth, Sten, Paracelsismen i Sverige till 1600-talets mitt, Uppsala: Lychnos-bibliotek 7, 1943. ——— . ‘Licentiatavhandling’: “Erfarenhet och illumination: till paracelsismens kunskapslära”. Unpublished manuscript no. 522:A2, 1981/26. Carolina rediviva, Uppsala University Library. Telle, Joachim (ed.), Abraham von Franckenberg: Briefwechsel, Stuttgart-Bad Cannstatt: Frommann-Holzboog, 1995. Vanloo, Robert, L’Utopie Rose-Croix du xvii:e siècle à nos jours, Paris: Dervy, 2001. Yates, Frances, The Rosicrucian Enlightenment, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1972.

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Chapter 55 Contemporary Rosicrucianism in Denmark

Rosicrucianism in the Contemporary Period in Denmark Jacob Christiansen Senholt Rosicrucian ideas were present in Denmark already during the seventeenth century, fuelled by the publication of the tracts Fama fraternitatis rosae crucis and Confessio fraternitatis in Germany in 1614 and 1615 respectively. After a gap in the history of Rosicrucian presence in Denmark of almost 300 years, modern Rosicrucian societies spread across the world, and following this wave of Rosi­ cru­cian fraternities, Danish offshoots of these fraternities also emerged. The modern-day Rosicrucians and their presence in Denmark stem from two differ­ ent historical roots. The first is an influence from Germany via the Rosi­crucian Society in Germany (Rosenkreuzer-Gesellschaft in Deutschland), and the other comes from the United States, with the formation of Antiquus Mys­ti­cus­ que Ordo Rosæ Crucis (AMORC) by Harvey Spencer Lewis (1883–1939) in 1915.

The Rosicrucian Fellowship

The history of modern Rosicrucianism in Denmark starts in 1865 when Carl Louis von Grasshoff (1865–1919), later known under the pseudonym Max Heindel, was born. Although born in Denmark, Heindel was of German ancestry, and spent most of his life travelling in both the United States and Germany. He was a member of the Theosophical Society and met with the later founder of Anthroposophy, Rudolf Steiner, in 1907. In 1909 he published his major work, The Rosicrucian Cosmo-Conception, which dealt with Christian mysticism and esotericism, and later that year Heindel founded The Rosicrucian Fellowship. It was a German spin-off of this group lead by occultist and theosophist Franz Hartmann (1838–1912) and later Hugo Vollrath, that later became influential in Denmark. The Danish section of the Rosenkreuzer-Gesellschaft was founded in 1928 by Johannes Haarvard (d. 1950), who was a student of Vollrath. Haarvard was based in Copenhagen but organised monthly public lectures in major Danish cities such as Copenhagen, Aarhus, Odense, and Aalborg. Later it seems that the activities diminished with lectures held only in Copenhagen and Aalborg.

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From 1929 to 1931 a monthly magazine called Rosenkorset (the Rose-Cross) was published by Haarvard. It consisted mainly of articles by Haarvard and a few other supporters as well as translations of articles by Max Heindel. In 1931 publication of the magazine ceased, but the Rosicrucian Society in Denmark continued its activities outside of public view even during the Second World War when the German section of the society was disbanded. The Rosicrucian Society was primarily focused on Christian beliefs, basing the main part of its teachings on Biblical sources. Haarvard simply considered Rosicrucianism to be an esoteric form of Christianity, whereas AMORC has a broader view of what Rosicrucianism is and encompasses, incorporating ideas of mysticism and esoteri­cism from non-Christian sources such as Greek philosophy, Egyptian religion, and Hermetica. When Johannes Haarvard died in 1950, Eli Wamberg (1906–1980) took control of the Rosicrucian Society. He is described by his “disciples” as a mystic, claiming to have received several Rosicrucian visions. Wamberg is said to have reformed the Danish section of the order, concentrating on individual correspondence with followers, instead of lectures and study groups. Some of these letters and personal instructions have later been published posthumously, but almost nothing of his literary production was publicly available while he was leading the Society. Wamberg also explicitly distanced himself from the American Rosicrucian societies AMORC and The Rosicrucian Fellowship, claiming that although personalities such as Max Heindel and Rudolf Steiner were “spiritual researchers”, their words and ideas were not to be accepted uncritically. After the death of Haarvard in 1980 all activities of the Rosicrucian Society ceased.

AMORC

The largest group of Rosicrucians in Denmark has throughout the contemporary period been AMORC. The order became active in Scandinavia with the formation of a “Danish Grand Lodge” in Copenhagen in 1920. The contact to founder Spencer Lewis in the United States was initially established by Carli Andersen, born in 1862. Andersen was born in Horsens, educated as a nurse, and travelled around Europe to work, leaving for the United States at the outbreak of the First World War. In New York she came in contact with various Theosophical groups through which she met Spencer Lewis. She was initiated into the first templar degree of AMORC in 1916, and received her 7th degree in 1919, after which she returned to Denmark in order to create a Grand Lodge. Together with her cousin Kaj Andersen, and two other men with an interest in AMORC, Svend Turning and Arthur Sundstrup, they asked Spencer Lewis to

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form a Danish Lodge, and in 1920 they received a charter to start a Grand Lodge. Svend Turning was appointed Grand Master of this lodge. The order continued to grow, gaining members, and in 1923 initiations were given up the highest 9th degree. In 1927 Turning retired as Grand Master and Carli Andersen’s brother-in-law, Edvard Emil Andersen took up the office. In 1930 he initiated new premises at Tuborgvej in Copenhagen that constituted the setting for the Danish Lodge until 1976 when the Danish Lodge closed down and all Scandinavian lodges were united into one Nordic Grand Lodge, that in 2001 was renamed the Scandinavian Grand Lodge, within which Finland receives its own administration. At the time of writing (2014), AMORC in Denmark is run from the Scandinavian headquarters near Gothenburg. AMORC is primarily focused on providing correspondence courses that are sent out on a monthly basis to all members, with a Danish/Norwegian version and a Swedish language version. In addition to these courses that take approximately five years to complete, members have the option to meet regularly for prayer and meditation evenings, as well as participate in initiations at lodges. Currently only two lodges are active in Denmark with public meetings, namely the Harvey Spencer Lodge in Copenhagen and the Atrium in Aalborg.

Concluding Remark

Lectorium Rosicrucianium, a Rosicrucian order founded in 1935 by Dutch esotericist Jan van Rijckenborgh (1896–1968), should also be mentioned. It has been active in Søborg with a website and public lectures since the year 2000, but with little activity except for maintaining the website. Although Rosicrucian organisations have been permanently active in Denmark during the last century or so, there has never been a Rosicrucian renaissance or a blossoming of ideas that has taken the Rosicrucian ideas beyond a small groups of “initiates” that have been practising and studying the teachings of Spencer Lewis and Max Heindel, and as such modern Rosicru­ cianism in Denmark has to be seen in the broader perspective of Rosicrucian ideas throughout Scandinavia.

References

Haarvard, Johannes (ed.), Rosenkorset. Organ For Kristelig Åndsvidenskab, 1–3 (1929–31). Kjar, Gregers, “30 års jubilæum”, Rosenkorset 4:30 (2006), 4–11. Svensson, Niels, Eli Wamberg. En Kristen Mystiker, København: Borgen, 2000.

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Chapter 56 Contemporary Rosicrucianism in Finland

Rosicrucianism in the Contemporary Period in Finland Tom Sjöblom and Jussi Sohlberg Sjöblom and Sohlberg

History

Modern Rosicrucian orders in Finland belong to two different traditions. The first tradition consists of the Finnish branches of the international Rosicrucian orders. The second tradition is particular to Finland. The latter has nothing to do with the international Rosicrucian orders and was born from a split within the Finnish Theosophical society in 1920. None of the different groups in these two traditions have been studied extensively, but they have been treated in scholarly works and academic studies discussing new religious movements in Finland, as well as in discussions of esoteric and occult movements. General information on different groups active in Finland has also been compiled in The Religions in Finland Project, an electronic platform and database managed by the Church Research Institute. The Finnish branch of Antiquus Mysticusque Ordo Rosae Crucis or AMORC became independent from the Scandinavian Grand Lodge in 1998, and has from then on formed an independent administrative unit, AMORC – Finland. Functionally it operates as a Grand Lodge, although it does not officially have that status yet, due to the low number of members in Finland (Heino 1997: 340). It is difficult to estimate when AMORC received its first Finnish members, but the organisation has been operating in Finland at least from the 1950s. Most of the Finnish members are corresponding members, who pursue their studies and practise exercises privately at home. Studying Rosicrucian materials in the Finnish language has been possible since the early 1980s. The estimated number of members of AMORC – Finland today is around two hundred. The second branch of international Rosicrucian orders active in Finland is Lectorium Rosicrucianum or the International School of the Golden Rosy Cross, a society established in the Netherlands in 1932. The society began its activities in Finland in 1995 and it was officially registered in 1997. The centre of activities in Finland is in the town of Hämeenlinna. The number of Finnish

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members is very low and can be counted in tens rather than in hundreds (Heino 1997: 340). A third international Rosicrucian order operating in Finland is the Rosicrucian Order or the Rose Cross Order, originally established in 1988 and with headquarters on the Canary Islands. The Rose Cross Order was registered in Finland in 2002, but it does not seem to have any officially organised activities in Finland at present. The second Rosicrucian tradition, particular to Finland, is represented by Ruusu-Risti (The Finnish Rosicrucian Society), a society established by Pekka Ervast (1875–1934), the former general secretary of the Finnish Theosophical Society, in 1920. Ervast left the Theosophical Society and established RuusuRisti in order to promote an occult interpretation of Jesus and his role as a spiritual guide for the whole of humanity. Many of the members of the Finnish Theosophical Society, and even some local lodges as a whole, joined this new society as soon as it was founded; the number of members thereby quickly rose to about 200 (Kuha 1989; Krohn 1981). The society was registered in 1931 and the headquarters are in Helsinki. Today Ruusu-Risti has slightly fewer than 300 members.

The International Rosicrucian Orders in Finland

Among the international Rosicrucian orders in Finland, AMORC is the one with the longest history and the most well-established institutions and programmes. The activities of AMORC – Finland do not differ to any great extent from those found in other countries. Corresponding members constitute a major part of the membership of AMORC – Finland. These members participate in the organisation by studying the teachings and exercises as set out in written study material. The organisation recommends members to study for one to two hours, one evening every week. Only a part of the teachings are public; these consist of meditation techniques, courses on spiritual alchemy, healing, the symbolism of sacred architecture, the teachings of Pythagoras, and the law of karma. A strict organisational hierarchy and a set initiatory system are followed closely. In addition, AMORC – Finland has published the journal Rosa et crux since 1998. Many of the articles are translations from other international Rosicrucian journals, but Finnish contributions are sometimes included. The topics range from discussions of the history of Western occultism to poems, and articles that debate the relationship of religion, magic, and science.

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Lectorium Rosicrucianum views itself as the representative of “real Rosicru­ cianism” and thus claims to continue the traditions and practices of ancient Gnostic mystery schools. The basic form of activities is to offer services to its members and a correspondence course to non-members interested in the society. For those non-members who wish to develop a better understanding of the Lectorium Rosicrucianum, the society organises events where introductory material on the Rosicrucian teachings is presented and discussed. An “Intro­ductory Manual” presenting the basic principles and teachings of Lecto­rium Rocicrucianum can be downloaded from their website. The society also publishes a Finnish language version of the bi-monthly international journal Pentagram. The fourth international Rosicrucian order in Finland is Aurora Borealis College that belongs to Societas Rosicruciana in Scotia. Aurora Borealis College was founded in 2007 and it has around 40 members. This Rosicrucian order accepts only freemasons as members, but it is not a masonic organisation itself.

Ruusu-Risti (The Finnish Rosicrucian Society)

The Finnish Rosicrucian Society represents a distinctive case among the Rosi­crucian orders, as the birth and ideological background of this organisation is so closely connected with the Theosophical Society. The founder of the group, Pekka Ervast, did not accept Jiddu Krishnamurti’s authority as a spiritual teacher and objected to the political activities of the Theosophical Society. Indeed, Ruusu-Risti defines itself as representing the original and true Theosophical inheritance of Helena P. Blavatsky. Thus, Ruusu-Risti promotes the belief in reincarnation and the law of karma. At the same time, Ervast had a strong experience of the spiritual presence of Christ in his life. He also identified himself with the ideas and worldview of the famous Russian author Leo Tolstoy, and especially how the latter interpreted the Sermon of the Mount. These influences brought the Ruusu-Risti version of Theosophy closer to Chris­ tianity and also with the international Rosicrucian orders (Heino 1997: 281). The official programme of the society is based on three major principles (as presented on their Internet pages): 1.

2.

Ruusu-Risti is defined as a society for truth-seekers. Its members are expected to show great respect and understanding towards each other irrespective of race, colour, nationality, religion, social status, gender, or any other superficial quality. Truth is higher than any religious tradition. Ruusu-Risti is a sanctuary for free thinking. Its members are searching for the absolute truth, the secret divine wisdom hidden in the religions, mythologies, philosophies and scientific systems of all times.

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Ruusu-Risti is one ring in the chain of humanity’s invisible brotherhood. Its members are searching for the road to eternal life which grows and develops the spirit of brotherhood among human beings.

In addition to Theosophy and Gnostic Christianity, the Finnish national epic Kalevala plays an important role in Ruusu-Risti as a manifestation of Finnish folk spirituality. The society also promotes the belief that there is a group of spiritually highly developed divine humans, masters who have reached perfection. These spiritual masters form the White Brotherhood. Some of the members of this brotherhood live in the visible world, but most of them are said to live in an invisible, spiritual dimension. Indeed, Ruusu-Risti teaches that humans are spiritual soul-beings and that the material body is just a shell (Heino 1997: 281–282). Within Ruusu-Risti there is an Inner School (sisäinen koulu) that was organised and established by Pekka Ervast on the basis of eighteenth-century Freemasonry. The Inner School is organised as a hierarchy consisting of three levels. The first level is that of Accepted Apprentice. This is followed by the level of Professional. The third and final stage is that of Master Mason. In order to be accepted into the Inner School, one must be a member of Ruusu-Risti and participate in an initiation ceremony organised every year at Easter. After having completed this ritual, the applicant can ask the master of the Inner School to be accepted into the brotherhood. The members of the Inner School study different religious and philosophical traditions from a perennialist perspective, i.e., as expressions of an eternal wisdom. At the second level, one is expected to acquaint oneself with the spiritual essence of man, with the ethics of esoteric Christianity, and with the essence of science and art. The third level consists of the study and research of the history of Freemasonry and the secrets of the White Brotherhood. The whole education programme is considered to take about ten years. Ruusu-Risti organises public lectures and public discussions for its members and for a general audience. The ceremonial lodge activities are restricted to members only. The bi-monthly journal Ruusu-Risti defines itself as a journal for truth-seekers. It is a journal founded by Pekka Ervast himself in 1905 and adopted by Ruusu-Risti after the organisation was established in 1920, but it has changed its name several times during its history. The aim of the journal is to introduce the Rosicrucian worldview and lifestyle to its readers, and to comment on various topical issues from a Rosicrucian perspective. Every issue also includes selections from the writings of Pekka Ervast. The continuing importance of Pekka Ervast and his writings for RuusuRisti is also highlighted by the fact that the publisher associated with the

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organisation – the Ruusu-Risti Literary Society – mainly focuses on the works of Ervast, with additions from the Theosophical classics and works by some later members of the society.

Conclusion

Despite the early arrival of modern Rosicrucian orders in Finland and the development of an independent Finnish Rosicrucian tradition, the numerical importance of the Rosicrucian currents as a whole has remained marginal. At present, none of the groups have more than 300 members and many of these – especially in the context of the international branch – are corresponding members with no actual contact with each other in real life. Even Ruusu-Risti – the Finnish branch of the Rosicrucian movement – has not been able to continue its initial success in attracting new members. The initial popularity of Ruusu-Risti can be explained as a late manifestation of Romantic nationalism in Finland in the early decades of the twentieth century. This is mirrored in the way Pekka Ervast in his thought and writings combined Christianity and Theosophy with Finnish folk traditions. However, when the nationalistic movement lost its impetus in Finnish society and culture, ideological movements and societies built on that basis – like Ruusu-Risti – soon became marginalised, and have remained so to this day.

References

Heino, Harri, Mihin Suomi tänään uskoo, Helsinki: WSOY, 1997. Krohn, Eino, “Ruusu-Risti”, in: Nils G. Holm, Kirsti Suolinna and Tore Ahlbäck (eds.), Aktuella religiösa rörelser i Finland, Åbo: Åbo Akademi, 1981, 87–106. Kuha, Tarvo, Analyysi Ruusu-Risti – seuran taustasta ja aseman muotoutumisesta Suomessa. Unpublished MA Thesis, University of Helsinki, 1989.

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Chapter 57 Contemporary Rosicrucianism in Norway

Rosicrucianism in the Contemporary Period in Norway Kjersti Løken Modern Rosicrucian orders, many of which can be said to be children of fin de siècle occultism and Theosophy, have been treated in some Norwegian scholarly works and academic studies on topics relating to esotericism, Theosophy, occultism, and the New Age (see for example Gilhus & Mikaelsson 1998: 40; Winje 1999: 214–217 and Løken 2006). These publications and studies have mainly focused on either modern Rosicrucianism generally, and/or the Rosi­ crucian Order AMORC specifically, whereas a complete survey of the modern Rosicrucian milieu in Norway seems to be still lacking. Consequently, this contribution is mainly based on written and oral primary sources kindly provided by insiders. My point of departure is in accordance with Massimo Introvigne (2006), who treats Rosicrucian orders in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries as autonomous organisations, brought into existence following the occult and spiritual revival in the late nineteenth century. None of these orders can lay claim to a continuous existence since the early seventeenth century (Intro­ vigne 2006: 1018), which we may call the Rosicrucian period in the most restricted sense. Thus, the Rosicrucian landscape can be portrayed as having two distinct manifestations: Rosicrucianism in the historical (narrow) and the Rosicrucian tradition in the modern (broad) sense. It is primarily the latter that will be the focus of this chapter. A natural starting point and main topic of this account is the Antiquus Mysticusque Ordo Rosae Crucis, or Rosicrucian Order AMORC, founded in 1915 by Harvey Spencer Lewis. AMORC is currently the largest modern Rosicrucian order in the world (Melton 1986: 70 and 1986: 72), a fact which is probably reflected in the Norwegian context: Approximately 500 of the 1,200 Scandinavian AMORC members are Norwegian. AMORC’s history and situation in Norway will be presented chronologically, followed by the organisational implications of the case and legal action against the order’s third Imperator, Gary L. Stewart, with the emergence of a new Rosicrucian body in Norway: Den Norske Orden av Rosen og Korset (NORK, i.e., The Norwegian Order of the Rose and Cross), closely affiliated with Stewart’s Ancient Rosae Crucis (ARC). The presentation

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will conclude with a brief exposition of a few minor modern Rosicrucian orders which have relatively recently announced their presence in Norway (in the sense that they have members or charters for operation in Norway). Due to their short history as part of the Norwegian religious landscape, their modest size, and the dearth of primary sources, these latter will be treated somewhat superficially. It should also be noted that there may be smaller Rosicrucian orders present in Norway which are not mentioned here. Many modern Rosicrucian orders in Norway seem to treat their Rosicrucian heritage as being linked to a primordial wisdom tradition, the Rosicrucian manifestos in the early seventeenth century being only one of many manifestations of a purported ageless wisdom. Consequently, the emic understanding of the Rosicrucian tradition can be perceived as a version of the topos of the philosophia perennis. A tentative definition of modern Rosicrucian orders, used to demarcate the currents presented in this article, can be stated as follows: An esoteric and initiatory order drawing primarily (and explicitly) upon Rosicrucianism in the narrow, historical sense as part of its self-designation and of its presentation of its historical or traditional background (and often, but not necessarily, suggesting that this movement was only one of many manifestations of a primordial wisdom tradition). This definition excludes from the present survey orders belonging primarily to other Western esoteric traditions, which use self-designations related to the rose and the cross. Examples of such orders will be mentioned at the end of this chapter.

The Rosicrucian Order AMORC

It is difficult to say when the first Norwegian members joined the Rosicrucian Order AMORC. The present Grand Lodge in Scandinavia has no record of this, there being no administration in Scandinavia before 1920. Due to the early establishment of a Grand Lodge in Scandinavia, it is, nevertheless, safe to acknowl­edge the Scandinavian Grand Lodge’s assumption that the first Norwe­ gian member must have been registered quite early in AMORC’s history. It is quite probable that there were Norwegian members who subscribed to study materials directly from the American mother organisation. The first Grand Lodge in the Nordic countries was established in early September 1920 in Denmark, when Carli Andersen brought home a charter from the USA. It is impossible to state the number of Norwegian members affected by this change in administration, but the present Grand Lodge believes

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that there were probably not very many members in Scandinavia at this point in time. A historical record of the Oslo Pronaos states that there were approximately thirty-five members in Norway in the early 1960s. This number may or may not include members who did not change membership from the American to the Scandinavian jurisdiction. Andersen did not wish to accept the post as Grand Master of the new Grand Lodge, and passed this privilege on to Svend Turning. From 1933 two Grand Lodges co-existed in Scandinavia, one in Sweden, the other in Denmark. The latter had the responsibility for those Norwegian members who wished to change their membership from the American to the Scandinavian jurisdiction. Both of these Grand Lodges were quite small and with limited constituencies, causing them to unite in 1976, forming the Nordic Grand Lodge which embraced members and local units in Norway, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, and Iceland. The first Grand Master was Irving Söderlund, who stayed in office from 1977 until 1994, when the Norwegian Live Söderlund was inaugurated. The Grand Lodge’s headquarters were in Gothenburg until 1982, when they bought the country estate Rösan situated in Onsala, south of the city. In 2003, a new temple was erected on the premises, Ljusets Tempel (The Temple of Light), in which initiations, lectures and other ceremonies are performed. In the late 1970s, the Nordic Grand Lodge took on the responsibility of initiating the translation of AMORC’s study materials into Finnish. The ultimate aim of this process was to pave the way for an independent Grand Lodge in Finland. In 1999, an independent administration was established in Finland, and the Nordic Grand Lodge was consequently renamed The Scandinavian Grand Lodge. Most AMORC members in Norway are correspondence members, implying that they carry out their studies and exercises in the privacy of their own “sanctuaries” (Sanctum), i.e., at home, but there are also local units in various parts of the country. These local units have different designations according to size (i.e., the number of active members), and the size of the unit has implications for the level of activity that the unit is obliged to undertake, and also for the type of rituals and other activities that they may perform without a visit from representatives of the Grand Lodge. Rituals which are performed on a regular basis include a meditation for peace and a ceremony of remembering the tradition. The meditation may also be performed with non-members present. There are two different versions of this ritual. The international version is performed once a year, on the third Sunday of June. The Scandinavian Grand Lodge has created its own peace meditation to be used at meetings. Oslo Pronaos kindly admitted me at one of these ceremonies. The participants were seated in a circle. The only objects

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present were roses and candles, and soft music was playing. The general idea is that in order to bring peace to the world one must start with being at peace with oneself. The smallest unit within the movement needs to comprise a minimum of seven active members, and is called an atrium group. In June 2009, Norway had atrium groups in Bergen, Fredrikstad, and Hamar. The second smallest unit is the Pronaos, which needs to be sustained by at least twenty-two active members. At the time of writing there are Pronaoi in Oslo, Trondheim, Stavanger, and Kristian­sand. Norway has presently no Chapters (for which a minimum of forty-four active members is required) or Lodges (with a minimum of seventytwo active members) at the moment. The Norwegian Pronaoi and Atrium Groups hold at least one meeting per month. The structure of these meetings includes a ritual, which has been created specifically to meet the needs and capacities of the smaller units, a monthly lecture dispatched from the Grand Lodge, followed by discussion and social activities. In addition, they hold open meetings with lectures, peace meditations, picture shows, and other activities, depending on the size and capa­city of the unit. In 1961 the Grand Lodge in Denmark, headed by Grand Master Arthur Sundstrup, addressed an enquiry to members in Norway concerning the establishment of Pronaoi in Oslo and Bergen. The historical records of the Pronaos in Oslo intimately link this development with the Norwegian writer and visionary Marcello Haugen (1878–1967). The earliest recorded AMORC member in the Oslo Pronaos membership rolls received a letter from Haugen in 1948, recommending him to join the Rosicrucian Order AMORC. This member claimed that Haugen a few years later approached him asking him to found a branch of the order in Norway. The Oslo Pronaos was established in 1961, changing its name in 1968 to Marcello Haugen Pronaos, perhaps as a wish to pay tribute to the recently deceased poet. The same year saw the distribution of the first Norwegian AMORC bulletin: Rosenkorset i Norge (The Rose Cross in Norway). This periodical appeared until 1977, when the Nordic Grand Lodge chose to amalgamate the different Nordic publications into Rosenkorset (The Rose Cross), a trilingual official quarterly publication which was published by the Nordic Grand Lodge until the latter ceased to exist in 1999. The publication was then taken over by the newly established Scandinavian Grand Lodge. Rosenkorset ceased being an official publication in November 2007, and it is no longer possible for non-members to subscribe to AMORC’s periodical. The Grand Lodge wished to turn Rosenkorset into a journal exclusively for members of the order. The Grand Lodge has stated that articles of general interest will be published on the Order’s official website. So far, only about a dozen articles have been published. This may be an indication of a more protectionist

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approach toward the outside world. Rosenkorset featured pictures and names of members, whereas AMORC now states that each member must decide for him-/herself whether they find their membership to be of a confidential nature or not. In 1971 Marcello Haugen Pronaos was upgraded to Marcello Haugen Chapter, followed by a transitional ceremony in April the following year. Beginning in 1977, the Chapter also conducted initiations, which today are only available at the temple on the Grand Lodge’s premises. Following a suggestion from the unit’s Master, the unit in Oslo changed its name to Oslo Chapter in 1980. It was downgraded to Pronaos in 1997, subsequently upgraded to Chapter in 1999, and then downgraded to Pronaos again in 2002. Oslo Pronaos had approximately sixty registered members in 2006, with approximately twenty members regularly attending convocations and other activities. The Nidaros Pronaos in Trondheim was founded in 1978. The unit was upgraded to Chapter in 1979, and subsequently downgraded to Pronaos in 1993. The unit holds monthly meetings for members, except in July. The Chapter used to perform initiations, until this right was withdrawn. The Mjøsa Pronaos in Hamar was instituted in 1979, changing status in 1982 to Chapter, subsequently downgraded to Pronaos in 1994, and upgraded to Chapter around the turn of the millennium. In later years the unit in Hamar has downgraded twice, to Pronaos in 2001, and to Atrium Group in 2005. During the 1980s and early 1990s the Mjøsa Chapter used to hold initiations in the Temple degrees. At the time of writing there are twenty-six members of Mjøsa Atrium Group, with an attendance rate of on the average thirteen people at each meeting. In the early 1990s the privilege of performing initiations in non-permanent temples was withdrawn. Normally, AMORC initiations are only supposed to be performed in permanent temples. This is due to a belief in the particular vibrations created by the order’s ritual work. The Nordic Grand Lodge was exempt from this rule from 1976 to May 1992, due to a lack of permanent temples. When the first permanent temple was consecrated, situated close to Rösan, the local units in Oslo, Trondheim, and Hamar continued to perform initiations in a transitional period until 1994. The original Bergen Pronaos was only operative for a short period of time, but was re-instituted in 1982, subsequently changing its name and status in 2003 to Bjørgvin Atrium Group. The Bergen Pronaos was the location in Norway where the Gary L. Stewart issue had the strongest impact on the community (cf. infra). The Borg Atrium Group in Fredrikstad was founded in the mid-1990s by ten local members. Today, it has between fifteen and twenty members, with a turnout rate of approximately ten. In addition to the regular monthly member

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meetings, they hold two open meetings per year. At these meetings they hold lectures followed by a Question and Answers session and the standardised peace meditation. The turnout has been approximately fifty–seventy at open meetings. There are also Pronaoi in Kristiansand in the south of Norway, and in Stavanger in the south-west. There also used to be an atrium group in the south-eastern village of Åsgårdstrand, but it was dismantled in 2006. This account shows that there has been an overall decline in organised AMORC activities in Norway over the past years. Whether this decline is reflected in a decreasing number of members recruited to the order is difficult to ascertain, as membership rolls are not disclosed to the public. There has, however, been a decline from approximately 2,000 Nordic members in 1982 to about 1,200 today. As a note of caution, it should be mentioned that when the Grand Lodge jurisdiction no longer comprised Finland and Iceland it automatically lost members to the Finnish administration. Active members in local units complain about difficulties in recruiting volunteers for honorary offices. This may reflect a more general decline in voluntarism in Norwegian communities, affecting all types of local activities including the religious. The Norwegian sociologist of religions, Pål Repstad (2000), has studied membership, church attendance, and participation in various activities in the Norwegian established church. His findings show a large discrepancy between high membership figures, and little participation in regular organised activities (Repstad 2000: 28). Even though an esoteric order demands a voluntary application for membership, the privatisation of religion and spirituality may have had negative effects also on the extent of regular organised activities in such assemblies. Zygmunt Bauman has criticised the postmodern tendency of indifference and lack of fellowship and solidarity (Furseth & Repstad 2003: 88). The phenomenon characterised by the neologism glocalisation has been applauded as the idea of thinking globally and acting locally, for the benefit of both. However, there is a danger of downplaying the importance of the local communities. The double focus on individualism and global threats to humanity, such as climate change, may cause the local environment to fall between two stools. It may be argued that this is a negative side effect of glocalisation, implying a merger of the local and the global perspectives, at the local perspective’s expense. Rosicrucian and other esoteric orders in Norway may also suffer from what Johannes Aagaard (1997) has identified as particular Scandinavian social structures ‘which tend to reward conformity and to downplay dissidence and nonconformity’ (1997: 175). Norwegian society has been marked by a relatively

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strong idea of openness and egalitarianism, which may cause orders with secret doctrines and ceremonies to be viewed as a bit elitist, and therefore with some distrust. Aagaard, however, identifies AMORC as an upholder of a ‘subtler form of occultism’ leading a rather quiet life (1997: 180). This may be a reason for AMORC’s relatively high membership figures in Norway.

Schisms and Problems

Introvigne (2003) mentions that AMORC has experienced a remarkable success, but also ‘a number of schisms and problems in more recent years’ (2003: 13). As mentioned above, of the Norwegian local units, Bergen Pronaos was most acutely afflicted with such schisms and problems. When AMORC’s second Imperator Ralph Maxwell Lewis died in 1987, the 34 year old Gary L. Stewart was inaugurated as Imperator, but he was removed from his post in 1990, following a conflict with the order. Little is known about his short period in office. He is seldom mentioned in AMORC contexts, and in official publications his name and his three years in office are all but deleted from AMORC’s history. In 2007, Christian Rebisse published Rosicrucian History and Mysteries, a long account of AMORC’s traditional and institutional history. In this book, the order’s third Imperator is only mentioned in passing: Upon the death of Ralph Maxwell Lewis, Gary Stewart was elected to the position of Imperator on 23rd January 1987. He soon however, demonstrated that he was not up to the task of leading the Order, and after a series of grave errors, he was dismissed from his office and duties by all the Grand Masters on 12th April 1990 (2007: 327). The nature of this conflict is uncertain, but some oral primary sources have suggested that he might have been personally unsuited for the position. When asked about the removal of Gary L. Stewart, Live Söderlund replied that he no longer had the order’s trust and confidence. In a letter to the Scandinavian members from Irving Söderlund, who was Grand Master of the Scandinavian jurisdiction at the time of the trial, Stewart is described as not meeting the demands of his post. Stewart was also sued on issues of embezzlement in the superior court of the state of California, but the case was dismissed (with prejudice) in 1993. His removal, and replacement by Christian Bernard, formerly Grand Master of the French jurisdiction, led to a forming of factions both within and without the order. Stewart insisted that Lewis had chosen, avowed, and admitted him

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officially into the office of Imperator in accordance with the order’s tradition. In his eyes this implied a pledge and an obligation for life, no matter the name of the organisation involved. In many initiatory orders there is a strong belief in lineage, comparable to the ecclesiastical lineage in many churches. In 1991 he merged his office with a newly founded Rosicrucian order, called Ancient Rosae Crucis (ARC), which keeps to the Lewises’ original monographs and material, whereas AMORC is constantly updating and revising their study material. He also merged his lineage with the British Martinist Order (BMO) and a chivalric order, called Ordo Militia Crucifera Evangelica (OMCE), thereby implying that these orders already existed, but received new lineages and charters for operation through Gary L. Stewart. In 1996, Stewart left the ARC with three of its founders, and instituted a new Rosicrucian order, the Confraternity of the Rose Cross (CR+C), which has close relations with BMO and OMCE. In 1992, a conflict of interest arose within the Bergen Pronaos, and between members of this unit and the Nordic Grand Lodge. A part of the problem was the relation between the local choice and understanding of lecture topics, and the Rosicrucian tradition as interpreted by AMORC centrally. This conflict ultimately resulted in the Grand Master expelling the appointed leader of the unit from the order. One year later, five AMORC members and ex-members in Bergen contacted Gary L. Stewart in order to be informed of the proceedings in the case and lawsuit against him. They were also interested in connecting with Stewart’s recently formed Rosicrucian branch, ARC. The ideological reason for this was a purist reaction against AMORC’s projects of modernising the study material and monographs, feeling that these measures were signs of a degeneration of the tradition, and of displaying too much openness toward New Age ideas. They wished to continue working with the old material as presented by the Lewises. Active from 1993, the group in Bergen expanded, and started a Commanderie (i.e., Lodge) of OMCE, joined BMO, and instituted an independent Norwegian branch of ARC: Den Norske Orden av Rosen og Korset (The Norwegian Order of the Rose and Cross, NORK). Something similar also happened in Ghana where an independent Ghanian Order of the Rose Cross was established. Membership and activities have also spread to Oslo, and there may be correspondence members in other parts of the country.

Borderline Organisations

Beyond the AMORC and NORK there are other orders pertaining to the Rosicrucian tradition. Such orders may or may not have organised groups of

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members in Norway. Many of these are at present small-scale operations, and may or may not be subject to fluctuations within the Norwegian cultic milieu. The Builders of the Adytum (BOTA) was founded by Paul Foster Case (1884– 1954), who was affiliated with a later version of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. This order has correspondence course members in Norway, but no further registered activity. In addition there are orders which explicitly belong to other traditions, but which use the symbols of the rose and cross in their designations, and as such their activities fall outside the scope of this chapter. Examples of such orders active in Norway are Ordre Reaux Croix (ORC) and Sodalitas Rosae Crucis & Sodalitas Solis Alati (SRC+SSA). ORC is a Martinist order, instituted in 2002 and directed from Norway. It comprises the three separate orders that take as their points of departure Martinez de Pasqually’s work: Elus Cohens, Louis-Claude de Saint-Martin (1743–1803): Voie Cardiaque, and a reformed and non-masonic version of Jean Baptiste Willermoz’ Chevaliers Bienfaisants de la Cité Sainte (CBCS). SRC+SSA was founded in 2002. It is directed from Sweden, has membership activities in Norway, and is a Golden Dawn-type initiatory order comprising Sodalitas Rosae Crucis (SRC) as an outer and Sodalitas Solis Alati (SSA) as an inner order. SRC is organised around the traditional Golden Dawn degree system, and what is referred to as a Rosicrucian church, called Ecclesia Theurgia Apostolica Rosae Crucis (ETARC). SSA comprises, amongst others, the following Rosicrucian orders: Ordre Kabbalistique de la Rose Croix, Asiatic Brethren, Rose Croix d’Orient, and Deus est Lux Universalis (DELU) (see also the chapter on Occultism in Norway in the present volume).

References

Aagaard, Johannes, “Denmark and Scandinavia vis-à-vis New Religious Movements”, in: Helle Meldgaard and Johannes Aagard (eds.), New Religious Movements in Europe, Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 1997, 175–183. Bernard, Christian, Rosicrucian Questions and Answers, USA: Supreme Grand Lodge of AMORC, 2001. Furseth, Inger and Pål Repstad, Innføring i religionssosiologi, Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 2003. Gilhus, Ingvild Sælid and Lisbeth Mikaelsson, Kulturens refortrylling: Nyreligiøsitet i moderne samfunn, Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1998.

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Introvigne, Massimo, “Lectorium Rosicrucianum: A Dutch Movement Becomes Inter­ national”, in: Mikael Rothstein and Reender Kranenborg (eds.), New Religions in a Postmodern World, Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 2003, 11–22. ——— . “Rosicrucianism III: 19th-20th century”, in: Wouter J. Hanegraaff, et al. (eds.), Dictionary of Gnosis & Western Esotericism, Leiden: Brill, 2006, 1018–1020. Løken, Kjersti, Ad Rosam per Crucem – En religionshistorisk studie av Rosenkors-Ordenen AMORC. MA thesis, University of Oslo, 2006. Melton, J. Gordon (ed.), Encyclopedic Handbook of Cults in America, New York & London: Garland Publishing, 1986. Rebisse, Christian, Rosicrucian History and Mysteries, Crowborough: The Rosicrucian Collection, 2007. Repstad, Pål, Religiøst liv i det moderne Norge. Et sosiologisk kart, Kristiansand S.: Høyskole­forlaget, 2000. Winje, Geir, Fra bønn til magi. Nye religioner og menneskesyn, Kristiansand S.: Høyskole­ forlaget, 1999.

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Chapter 58 Satanism in Denmark

Satanism in Denmark Jesper Aagaard Petersen The phenomenon of Satanism in Denmark should be understood in relation to the basic dichotomy between a ubiquitous Christian mythology of subversive evil and spiritual warfare on one hand and the discourse and practices of self-designated Satanists on the other. For this reason, when discussing contem­porary Satanism it should be made clear from the outset whether one is referring to Christian voices and their claims about others, voices within the “satanic milieu” talking about themselves, or reproductions and appropriations of these voices by the media and popular culture (Petersen 2009, 2012). All influence, relate to, and gradually shade into each other; nevertheless, they should be kept analytically separate. In addition, these types should be related to global trends in order to fully appreciate the impact on Danish cases.

Christian and Reactive Paradigmatically Conform Satanism

Up until the mid-1990s, Christian understandings of Satanism as inverted Christianity and immorality dominated the discourse on Satanism in the media and in popular culture (Dyrendal & Lap 2002). Although neither the Satanic Ritual Abuse scare of the United States and the United Kingdom nor the violent church burnings and murders in Norway had any equivalents in Denmark, they were nevertheless reported and reproduced as models of interpretation in small-scale scares over the “occult” and church desecrations in the 1980s and 1990s. It is important to stress, though, that the media generally exercised a critical stance towards religious interpretations; thus Christian counter-cult groups, such as Dialogcenteret (Dialogue Centre International), primarily influenced the media and public education by framing Satanism as a secular psychological and social problem of youth deviance (Dyrendal & Lap 2002: 209, 219, 222). In this sense, Satanism is conflated with the “occult” and “crime” by coupling it to graveyard and church desecrations and constructing a slippery slope leading from adolescent interest in the occult over participation in “above-ground” groups to a full-time criminal career (e.g., Frederiksen 1999). This interpretation was not entirely hegemonic, as we shall see below, but it has continued

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into the present as one available frame in which to conceptualise new and old events. School libraries are still full of Christian books on “the occult”, and the media are still quick to sensationalise even the most speculative link to Satanism. Within the broader satanic milieu, Black Metal groups and adolescent seekers have appropriated this Christian model, but with a twist: They have allied themselves with the “Prince of Darkness” and his cohorts in the battle against Christianity. In most cases, though, this identification should be considered a rebellious identity-construction or an ironic play with society’s taboos through the model of transgression provided by Norwegian Black Metal’s worship of “Darkness”, rather than a coherent discourse of beliefs, practices, and organisation (Mørk 2009). Thus this first type of self-styled Satanism, which could be termed Reactive paradigmatically conform Satanism, or reactive Satanism for short, covers anti-Christian Devil-worshipers who react to Christianity by conforming to the model of evil provided there and reproduced in popular culture (Petersen 2009: 6–7; Schmidt 2003: 11). A parallel could be drawn to the historical case of shoemaker Christen Pedersøn (Holst 1990: 267–273), who sold his soul to the Devil in September 1634. He did this by signing a Faustian contract to the effect that he was secured economically for life, even quoting passages from the literary antecedent verbatim (the seminal Historia von D. Johann Fausten, published by Johann Spies in 1587, was translated into Danish in 1588). After a complex secular and clerical juridical process, in which he repented, he was finally sentenced to death in 1635, but was released before the verdict could be effectuated. When the selfdesignation is serious and meaningful, it is necessary to include individuals and informal groups that participate in ostensive performance of myth to get a full picture of the satanic milieu; nevertheless they belong on the periphery and should be considered in a wider cultural rather than a specific satanic context (in contrast to the “counter-theologies” proposed by Sørensen 2006). Certain figures within the Black Metal scene straddle the fence between Christian myth, adolescent transgression, and the satanic milieu in a narrower sense; the Danish singer King Diamond can serve as one example. He is a longtime member of the American Church of Satan and has participated in media events to promote this understanding of Satanism. At the same time, his bloody and aggressively anti-Christian stage shows can be compared to similar acts within the Heavy Metal scene. Even though these shows contribute to and apparently substantiate the Christian understanding of Satanism, at least on a surface level, they are as ironic as, e.g., Alice Cooper’s (a born-again Christian), and should be understood as reflections on morality and the hypocrisy of Christianity and society, not as Satanism per se. We should not conflate artistic

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expression and religious discourse, although one of course influences the other. Serving as a further complication of the boundaries between artistic appropriation and serious social antagonism is the aftermath of the (in)famous Anholt affair of 1973, an old story involving alleged satanic activity in Denmark. In May 1973, “ritual objects” were uncovered from various sites on the small island, subsequently generating speculation about a satanic cult in the yellow press (Alver 1974). In late 2013, numerous Danish media revisited this case following two documentary filmmakers and their half-serious journey to uncover the cult on the island, released on DVD in the same year (Bech & Ussing 2013). Not surprisingly they found nothing, but in the process they proposed some plausible connections between the original Anholt affair and the discovery of some 400 “Satan coins” hidden in churches and museums in Denmark as well as “satanically” themed letters both found in odd places and delivered to various people from the mid-1970s to the late 1990s (some of which are found now, after the case has become widely known). In a six-part serial running in October 2013, the newspaper Politiken substantiated these connections, concluding that a quiet middle-class rebel named Knud Langkow (1931–2005) was to blame (Schmidt & Stockmann 2013). Langkow apparently led a double life, planting the original objects in the early 1970s, minting the first batch of coins and writing all of the letters under the nom de plume Alice Mandragora, the witch queen of the satanic coven. What his intentions were is impossible to verify as he passed away in 2005. Neverthe­ less, it is likely from the remaining evidence that the entire forty-year elaborate prank is something between a bizarre promotional campaign for Langkow’s amateur short stories and novellas and a giant counter-cultural subversive Gesamtkunstwerk using stereotypes in order to destabilise the religious and political establishment. What it is not is satanic. Indeed, his “Satanism” is hard to take seriously, cobbled together from exotic objects, Christian stereotypes, and tongue-in-cheek demonology, and it is obvious that while Langkow’s project certainly is anti-establishment and even anti-Christian, it is not satanic in the sense discussed in the following. Though there were forerunners with limited impact (Dyrendal & Lap 2002: 202, 207, see below), it was not until the late 1990s that self-designated groups and individuals within the satanic milieu gained a public foothold by actively promoting an understanding of Satanism that was clearly independent of Christianity. They correctly pointed out that one should discern between modern Satanism as endorsed by established organisations and elaborated upon in available texts on the one hand, and the Christian antics, whether mythic or ostensively inverted, of Dialogcenteret and Black Metal enthusiasts on the

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other. It seems that this counter-discourse has gained some weight today, as Satanists participate in media events and interviews, and teachers and pupils are likely to use help for their assignments from satanic websites and message boards. Thus the satanic milieu is becoming more visible by condensing around discernible counter-hegemonic outlets: texts, websites, and spokespersons. But this has a longer pedigree – let us now turn to the history, beliefs, and practices of these self-designated Satanists in Denmark.

Religious Satanism: Rationalist and Esoteric

As mentioned above, the satanic milieu in Denmark is closely tied to the wider cultic milieu of the West and thus shares many traits of modern “occulture”: it is detraditionalised, eclectic, syncretistic, and focuses on individual seekership (Petersen 2009). It should therefore be understood through the lens of “selfreligion” or “life-spirituality” as proposed by Paul Heelas (e.g., Heelas 2002), although the specific understandings of self and life vary widely within modern Satanism and should not be equated with New Age concepts of “Higher Self” and the like. In the satanic milieu, two ideal types of contemporary religious Satanism can be discerned: Rationalist and esoteric Satanism (Petersen 2009, 2012). Rationalist Satanism is atheistic, materialistic, and epicurean, and often presents itself as a philosophy, while esoteric Satanism can be theistic, pantheistic, and even atheistic, but has an idealistic streak and presents itself through mystical and initiatory discourse. In both, Satan is understood as a symbol, model, principle, or force not to be worshipped but to be emulated and understood. Consequently, Satanism is rather the practice of satanists as a self-religious and non-conformist adversarial project than the belief in a Christian figure. The reactive Satanism described above can be considered a cultural antithesis to the two types, the sounding board for the construction of a satanic identity in popular culture, and an ever-present archive of mythical Christian resources from which to select and synthesise (Petersen 2012, 2013). The history of Danish Satanism can be safely traced back to Carl William Hansen or Ben Kadosh (1872–1936), who espoused a semi-Gnostic Luciferian interpretation of Satan that properly belongs in the category of esoteric Satanism. He was inspired by the French occultism prevalent in the cultic milieu of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century and was a member of a wide variety of magical orders; thus his sources of inspiration could reasonably be traced to Carl von Kohl and possibly Éliphas Lévi, H.P. Blavatsky, and Stanislaw Przybyszewski, as well as the mythic “Palladists” of Léo Taxil, a French journalist responsible for an influential satanic conspiracy hoax in the

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1890s (Faxneld 2006: 160–175, 2011; Gregorius 2006: 29). In the short pamphlet Den ny morgens gry: Lucifer-Hiram, Verdensbygmesterens genkomst (The Dawn of the New Morning: Lucifer-Hiram, the Return of the Master Mason of the World), published in 1906, Ben Kadosh outlines a positive reading of Satan and Lucifer as both a personified and diffuse “Dark Ideal” combining opposites of intelligible and unknown, light and dark, and Lucifer and Demiurge (Ben Kadosh 1906/2006: 30–31). He also advocates the establishment of an esoteric study circle modelled upon the “old cult” of this complex creative force (Ben Kadosh 1906/2006: 17–18), that is, from an entirely non-Christian perspective. He continues to trace complex connections between Satan, Lucifer, Hiram of the Freemasons, Pan in British Romantic poetry, and other mythological figures, and connects all of these in an elaborate system of mediation and initiation that can be approached through study and the manipulation of keys and sigils. Apparently, Ben Kadosh had some success in establishing a circle of Sata­ nists, as a small group of at least four people converged from around 1900 (Ben Kadosh 1906/2006: 7–8). Nevertheless, his influence in Denmark has been virtually non-existent until the translation of the pamphlet into English in 1993 (by Bjarne Salling Pedersen, published in the esoteric journal The Fenris Wolf, edited by Swedish occult entrepreneur Carl Abrahamsson) and the republication in Danish by Bjarne Salling Pedersen and Peder Byberg Madsen in 2006. In addition, one should understand the Satanism of Ben Kadosh in the wider context of magical speculation – he was active in the Martinist Order, OTO, and several masonic lodges, and seems to have moved towards a more Christian perspective later in life (Faxneld 2006: 171; 2011). What is clear, though, is that several ideological successors to the views of this enigmatic man can be found; I will briefly describe three contemporary examples of esoteric Satanism in Denmark. First, the speculations of Ben Kadosh are directly promoted and elaborated upon by the Neo-Luciferian Church of Bjarne Salling Pedersen (b. 1970) and Isabel Munksgaard Berg (b. 1975), formally established in the winter of 2004 or early 2005, but building upon loose networks of initiates dating back to the 1970s and the consecration of Pedersen and Berg in 2001 by Michael Bertiaux (Gregorius 2006: 26–29, Faxneld 2011, and the Church’s website). The Church is therefore connected to a wide variety of magical orders, notably the Ecclesia Gnostica Spiritualis, and considers itself the reanimation of the Naasseniske Gnostiske Synode (Naassene Gnostic Synod) of Ben Kadosh. The Satanism of the Church is formalised in the hierarchy and the practical work of NeoLuciferian Masses, sex magic, and sigils; they describe Lucifer as a ‘force’ and Neo-Luciferianism as ‘the science and worship’ of this force as ‘a practical and

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result-oriented occult path for those with the will and talent of success’ (Gregorius 2006: 28). Significantly, they also distance themselves actively from both the rationalist Satanism of Anton LaVey and Black Metal. Thus they belong to the same esoteric traditions as Ben Kadosh, and have a rather downplayed relation to the term Satanism as a self-designation; nevertheless they should be included here as representatives of an esoteric, “Luciferian” interpretation. The same can be said of another possible “successor”, Erwin Neutzsky-Wulff (b. 1949), who in numerous interviews and books from the mid-1980s onwards describes Satanism as both a rhetorical position given by Christians to all freethinkers and non-Christians, and as a “humanism” or “mystery cult” with a long tradition of opposition to Christianity, but not in any genealogical relationship with Christianity as such. “Serious” Satanism, in contrast to Devil worship and “pop Satanism”, should be understood as a part of “qualified Occultism”, an “experimental and practical” worship of those parts of human nature that Christianity has neglected and repressed. Thus Satanism is generally conceptualised along the same lines as wider esoteric discourse and practice, namely as a transcendence from mechanistic materialism to a subjective but equally material reality; a new culture for a post-Christian world focused on redressing the balance of the body, the emotions and the instincts (Neutzsky-Wulff 1980, 1985, 1986a; Dyrendal & Lap 2002: 206–208; Thejls 2010). In other instances, Satanism is in fact portrayed as the progressive culture of the world today: Democracy, secular humanism, and feminism, to name some examples, essentially equating modernity and the satanic (e.g., Neutzsky-Wulff 1986b). In some widely commented articles written in the mid-1980s, NeutzskyWulff stated that serious Satanism had existed since the 1920s in Denmark and had around 200 active participants, mostly from the higher strata of Danish society. He also mentioned an occult “university” that scouted the popular fringe for candidates and provided systematic training (Kjærgaard 1986; Ritterband 1986); it is not known whether he here referred to successors of Ben Kadosh or to an unknown organisation, or bolstered his claims by constructing an imaginary tradition, but it is obvious that Neutzsky-Wulff relates modern Satanism to the cultic milieu of the 1920s and 1930s and the wider “elitist counter-culture” of the Renaissance, Enlightenment, and older traditions. He has since then functioned as an ideological focal point for small groups working with distinct interpretations of esotericism distant from Satanism per se, and seems to have distanced himself from the designation. A final example of esoteric Satanism is the Temple of Lucifer of Petra Johans­ son, which gained a brief media presence in 2000 mainly because of the converted barn loft that worked as temple building. The Temple seems to have

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disbanded in the middle of the first decade of the twenty-first century. When perusing extant interviews (Pedersen 2003: 69–77; Sørensen 2004) and their now defunct website, one is struck by the wide variety of sources acknowledged and the loose structure of the congregation, and we should probably understand the Temple of Lucifer as an audience cult related to the New Age movement and modern Witchcraft, rather than to the narrower esoteric traditions outlined so far. Lucifer/Satan is a force related to nature as well as a symbol of humanity and is worshipped in rituals reminiscent of the eclectic ceremonial magic found in the detraditionalised templates of the cultic milieu. Early exponents of rationalist Satanism are similarly connected loosely to Witchcraft and “occultism” and later clearly indebted to the thoughts and practices of Anton LaVey and the Church of Satan. In this sense, rationalist Satanism has undergone the same fracture from the cultic milieu in Denmark as in the United States, from broad associations with witches and ceremonial magic in the 1970s to atheistic philosophy today. An example of the former is the earliest known proponent of rationalist Satanism in Denmark, Gittan Jäderberg, who gained a brief media exposure in 1973–1974 as a critical commentator on the Anholt case discussed above. In partial contrast to the media depiction of a “satanic cult”, she describes Satanism as a mixture of LaVeyan ideas and Witchcraft, a world view or philosophy that uses the symbol of Satan to express a carnal egoism with added rituals purportedly surviving from primeval times (Berg 1973; Snitkjær 1973). In several articles and interviews, Jäderberg speaks of “satanic covens” and claims to be corresponding with Anton LaVey to ­organise the 500–700 Danish Satanists into a local Church of Satan. Nothing much came of it, probably because of her untimely death from cancer in 1975 (Dyrendal & Lap 2002: 201–202). From the late 1990s onwards, following the renewed interest in Satanism that was a result of Norwegian church burnings and Danish cases of vandalism, new and more successful spokespersons have arrived on the public scene – on the Internet and in the media. They present interpretations of Satanism that have roots in the writings of Anton LaVey and the “Dark Doctrines” of Tani Jantsang and Phil Marsh (Petersen 2005: 438–439), although the relationship with both has been eclectic, and a significant reinterpretation has taken place. All should be considered variations of rationalist Satanism in Denmark. The formation of the Prometheus Grotto (briefly named CoS DK) in 1997 marked the formalisation of individual aspirations of a handful of notable Danish Satanists, namely Max Schmeling, who promoted LaVeyan Satanism in several media interviews as an affiliated individual of the Church of Satan, Hr. Vad, active on the Internet in newsgroups and with a popular website, and Amina Lap, the creator of the online Satanic Media Watch and News Exchange,

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among others (Lap & Wolf 2003). The immediate motive for creating an official organisation was the publication of a newsletter, Satanisk Bulletin (The Satanic Bulletin), which began in 1998; all were members of the Church of Satan at the time and articulated an atheistic humanism in the tradition of LaVey, even if the specifics varied from a mystical Left Hand Path to a more materialistic philosophy. Although initially independent, they applied for official status as a “grotto” and changed the name by requirement of the American Church, with Hr. Vad as “grotto master”. Major changes followed the death of LaVey in 1997 and the internal battles within the Church of Satan in the following years – most notably the expulsion of Hr. Vad and the Prometheus Grotto’s declaration of independence from the Church in around 2000–2001 (Hr. Vad 2001; Odal 2001). More expulsions and resignations followed and have contributed significantly to the anti-Church of Satan atmosphere of much Danish Satanism today. What is most noteworthy is that the Prometheus Grotto split in 2001 along both ideological and organisational lines. One group, continuing as the Prometheus Grotto around Hr. Vad, focuses on the solitary nature of the Left Hand Path and associates itself with Tani Jantsang and Phil Marsh’s Satanic Reds, an informal Internet group combining left-wing politics and eclectic esoteric speculations. Satan is thus related to non-dualistic philosophy along the lines of Advaita Vedanta, Tantric traditions, and Daoism, with concepts of Boundless Darkness and the Flame or Sat and Tan, being and becoming, and the emanation of the latter from the former in successive stages. Sat-Tan is thus both a concept such as dynamism and the Dark Force of the emanated universe. The Satanist resonates with this gnosis, a knowledge that is also an intuitive practice, and strives to become what is already his or her inner core through a participation in the unending change of the physical universe. As with many Internet-based groups, the present activity of the Prometheus Grotto seems to be virtually nil. The other group, called Satanisk Forum (The Satanic Forum), formed around Amina Lap, Max Schmeling, and Ole Wolf, among others, in 2001, is an example of rationalist Satanism taken almost to its logical extreme. The stated goals are to ‘build a network benefiting individuals in Satanic Forum and the Satanic community’ and to ‘create a Satanic “subculture”, where the Satanic identity and culture is strengthened for present and future generations’ (see the bylaws on the group’s website, article 2; my translation). It is thus an umbrella organisation uniting all Satanists interested in clearing out misconceptions and prejudice – rational self-interest, one could say, available for all. Although the group seems to be in hiatus and has been so for several years, it nevertheless still updates relevant websites and keeps the membership files intact. Today the group has around 250 members in Scandinavia; manages the (infrequent)

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publication of Satanisk Bulletin, and has an enduring presence both off-line (in radio interviews, on television, and by helping out school pupils) and on-line (with several websites, a message board, and a popular FAQ). In its heyday, in the mid to late years of the first decade of the twenty-first century, Satanisk Forum actively engaged both Christian, secular, and alternative conceptions of Satanism through many channels: by integrating Amina Lap’s news archive mentioned above, by publishing a Danish demographical analysis of Satanists in response to James R. Lewis’ studies (Amina 2002; cf. Lewis 2001), by constructing an ideological history (Lap 2002; Lap & Wolf 2003), and by advocating a specific local version of Satanism in contrast to what they described as the Americanised values and goals of the Church of Satan (Wolf 2003; Søderlind & Dyrendal 2009). Although the organisation’s major spokespersons, Amina Lap and Ole Wolf, still make occasional use of the Dark Doctrines and advocate a Satanism that unifies brain and body, the main thrust of the organisation’s ideology could be described as materialistic and rationalist, since their texts refer to modern physics, logic, and materialist arguments rather than to mystical monistic conceptions. Satan is a symbol referring to the act of rebellion as well as to subjective states, but the organisation is aggressively atheistic and secular in its rhetoric (Petersen 2005, 2013). At present, organised Satanism in Denmark seems exhausted, with little online or offline activity to encourage Danish Satanists apart from small-scale personal networks. That said, of the groups and individuals surveyed here, Satanisk Forum and the rationalist Satanism advocated by this organisation seems to be the most prevalent interpretation of Satanism in Denmark, especially in conjunction with appeals to the writings of Anton LaVey. While there are significant variations between young and old and the cultic milieu contains varieties of subcultural, esoteric, and philosophical formulations, the interpretations of Satanism that are most secularised seem to fit best in the public arena. This could be a consequence of the liberal theology of the Lutheran State Church and the consensus culture of the welfare state in Denmark.

References

Amina, “Dansk Satanisme”, Satanisk Bulletin 7 (2002), 30–35. Bech, Jonas and Kristian Ussing, Satankulten på Anholt, DVD 2013. Bente Gullveig Alver, “Blæsten om Anholt”, Tradisjon 4 (1974), 1–20. Berg, Jesper Juel, “Hun er chef for satanisterne”, Morgenposten, 29 July 1973.

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Dyrendal, Asbjørn and Amina Olander Lap, “Satanism as a News Item in Norway and Denmark: A Brief History”, SYZYGY: Journal of Alternative Religion and Culture 11 (2002), 197–233. Faxneld, Per, Mörkrets apostlar. Satanism i äldre tid, Warszawa: Ouroboros, 2006. ——— . “The Strange Case of Ben Kadosh: A Luciferian Pamphlet from 1906 and its Current Renaissance”, Aries 11:1 (2011), 1–22. Frederiksen, Tom Thygesen, Hvidbog om Satanisme, Aarhus: Dialogcentrets forlag, 1999. Gregorius, Fredrik, Satanismen i Sverige, n.p: Sitra Ahra Förlag, 2006. Hr. Vad, “Leder”, Satanisk Bulletin 5 (2001), 3–8. Holst, Peter (ed.), Dansk litteraturhistorie, bind 2: 1480–1620, Viborg: Gyldendal, 1990. Kadosh, Ben, (Carl William Hansen), Den ny morgens gry: Lucifer-Hiram, Verdensbygmeste­ rens genkomst, Copenhagen/Hafnia, 1906/2006. Kjærgaard, Peter, “Satanist og folkefjende”, Jyllandsposten, 2 December 1986. Lap, Amina Olander, “Satanismens danske rødder”, Satanisk Bulletin 8 (2002), 13–16. Lap, Amina Olander and Wolf, “Satanismens danske rødder – Satanismen i nyere tid”, Satanisk Bulletin 9 (2003), 11–19. Lewis, James R., “Who serves Satan? A Demographic and Ideological Profile”, Marburg Journal of Religion, 6:2 (June 2001). Accessed 18 February 2008, at . Mørk, Gry, “‘With my Art I am the Fist in the Face of God’: On Old-School Black Metal”, in: Jesper Aagaard Petersen (ed.), Contemporary Religious Satanism: A Critical Anthology, London: Ashgate, 2009, 171–198. Neutzsky-Wulff, Erwin, Indsigtens sted, Copenhagen: Borgens Forlag, 1980. ——— . Okkultisme, Copenhagen: Borgens Forlag, 1985. ——— . Magi, Copenhagen: Borgens Forlag, 1986a. ——— . “Satanisme i pressen”, Berlingske Tidende, 22 December 1986b. Odal, “Sidste tog til Satanville”, Satanisk Bulletin 5 (2001), 28–35. Pedersen, Kim Møller, Hvad tror du på? Århus: CDR-forlag, 2003. Petersen, Jesper Aagaard, “Modern Satanism: Dark Doctrines and Black Flames”, in: James R. Lewis and Jesper Aagaard Petersen (eds.), Controversial New Religions, Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, 2005, 423–457. ——— . “Introduction: Embracing Satan”, in: Jesper Aagaard Petersen (ed.), Contem­ porary Religious Satanism: A Critical Anthology, London: Ashgate, 2009, 1–24. ——— . “The Seeds of Satan: Conceptions of Magic in Contemporary Satanism”, Aries 12:1 (2012), 91–129. ——— . “From Book to Bit: Enacting Satanism Online”, in: Egil Asprem and Kennet Granholm (eds.), Contemporary Esotericism, London: Equinox, 2013, 134–159. Ritterband, Monica, “200 i topjobs dyrker Satan”, Ekstra Bladet, 3 December 1986. Schmidt, Gudrun Marie and Camilla Stockmann, “Kapitel 6: Hvem var Knud Langkow?”, Politiken, 26 October 2013.

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Schmidt, Joachim, Satanismus. Mythos und Wirklichkeit, Marburg: Diagonal-Verlag, 2003 [1992]. Snitkjær, Aage, “Satan er løs i Eskildsgade”, Ekstra Bladet, 11 June 1973. Søderlind, Didrik and Asbjørn Dyrendal, “Social Democratic Satanism? Some Examples of Satanism in Scandinavia”, in: Jesper Aagaard Petersen (ed.), Contemporary Religious Satanism: A Critical Anthology, London: Ashgate, 2009, 154–170. Sørensen, Lars Munk, Satanisme, København: Gyldendal, 2006. Sørensen, Marie Sisse, “De rare satanister”, Berlingske Tidende, 22 April 2004. Thejls, Sara Møldrup, “Erwin Neutzsky-Wulff and the Neurological Landscape of the Sefirot”, in: Marco Pasi, Kocku von Stuckrad and Boas Huss (eds.), Kabbalah and Moder­nity: Interpretations, Transformations, Adaptations, Leiden: Brill, 2010, 301–325. Wolf, “Kulturkulten”, Satanisk Bulletin nr. 5: 7–13, 2003.

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Chapter 59 Satanism in Finland

Satanism in Finland Titus Hjelm Satanism entered the Finnish public consciousness in the mid-1980s. Per­ haps not surprisingly, the first people who were interested in and concerned about Satanism were Pentecostalist Christians, namely the Finnish preacher/ prophet Leo Meller. Meller’s book Rock (1986) “exposed” the “satanic” content of contemporary rock and Heavy Metal music, very much in line with the contemporary discussions in the USA. Although little discussed in the mainstream media at the time, Meller’s role set an example for later religious commentators who posed and were received as experts on Satanism. Whereas the public attention generated by Meller and others denouncing the “satanic” popular culture of the times was regarded more or less sceptically or even with mild amusement in the media, Satanism acquired a more sinister image in the early 1990s with the church burnings and homicides connected to Satanists in Norway. Mainstream newspapers discussed the possibility of satanic cults in Finland and some murders were linked − no matter how tenuously − to an allegedly satanic motivation (Hjelm 2005a). The reality of Satanism was finally “proven” in the public eye when some people, namely the Finnish rock singer Kauko Röyhkä, publicly professed to be practising Satanists.

Finnish Satanism in the Early 1990s

Some anti-Satanist commentators (such as the abovementioned Leo Meller) have suggested that satanic ritual groups existed in Finland already in the 1970s, but this allegation hardly stands the test of critical scrutiny. There may, however, have been magical/occult groups or individuals in Finland at that time, but there is no knowledge of explicitly satanic involvement by any of these. Therefore, it is safe to say that religious Satanism first came to Finland in the early 1990s. The most famous self-professed Finnish Satanist was the rock singer Kauko Röyhkä mentioned above. He was frequently interviewed about his satanic beliefs and became the “face” of Satanism for a short period in the early 1990s. Röyhkä’s Satanism was mainly influenced by the writings of Anton LaVey and

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in his public appearances he consistently denied having anything to do with alleged satanic crime, such as human sacrifice. Röyhkä tried to organise a public satanic ritual in 1993 but that came to nought. Therefore, Röyhkä’s Satanism was more a public expression of a private belief than an example of organised Satanism in Finland. It was also relatively short-lived, since already in the late 1990s he described Satanism as a phase that he had since passed. Another “satanic” figure sometimes featured in the media was the eccentric Pekka Siitoin (1944–2003), an occultist, neo-Nazi, and self-professed Satanist. Siitoin’s Satanism was, however, a (minor) part of his eclectic occultism and not influenced by organised Satanism or left hand path groups such as The Church of Satan or The Temple of Set. Also, plain shock value probably played no small part in Siitoin’s public declarations of practising Satanism. On the less visible grassroots level, a few individual Satanists attempted to organise a satanic group in Helsinki in the early 1990s. In a time before the emergence of the Internet, recruitment campaigns by word of mouth had little success, despite the fact that Hans K., the main persona behind these early attempts, also appeared in a very popular talk show on Finnish television. Apart from a few card-carrying members of the Church of Satan and some selfprofessed Satanists drawing on the philosophy of Anton LaVey, Satanism had few followers and did not manifest itself as an organised religion in the early 1990s in Finland − despite the fact that it was presented as such in an influential book on religion in Finland, written by the late Harri Heino, director of the (Lutheran) Church Research Institute (Heino 1998). The Temple of Set is the only organisation that has actually had an active, albeit numerically small, membership in Finland since the late 1980s. Although the Temple was originally an offshoot of the Church of Satan, the Setians have been reluctant to call themselves Satanists, preferring the notion of the “lefthand path”. The Temple of Set and other Finnish left-hand path organisations are covered elsewhere in this book in Kennet Granholm’s chapter on occultism in Finland.

The Finnish Satanism Scare

Considering the lukewarm reception that actual practising Satanists had in their early attempts to recruit members, it is perhaps a bit surprising that by the end of the 1990s, Satanism was one of the most widely-discussed public issues in Finland. Despite the fact that actual practising Satanists were only a handful, the Finnish media, and through it large segments of the population,

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became convinced that Satanists were rampant in Finland and that Satanism posed one of the most serious threats to the Finnish youth. Unlike in the United States, where the Satanism scare focused mainly on ritual abuse, or in Norway, where Satanists were connected with church burnings and murder, the Finnish Satanism scare focused on cemetery vandalism (Hjelm 2002, 2005b). Between 1997 and 2001, hundreds of gravestones were toppled in cemeteries around Finland. What made the phenomenon interesting for the wider public was that from very early on the news media attributed the cause for this widespread vandalism to Satanism. True, in some cemeteries chapels were painted with pentagrams, inverted crosses, and “satanic” slogans, and burial crosses were stuck upside down on the ground. However, the conjecture that this was the work of Satanists was almost always made without any knowledge of who the actual perpetrators were, or what their motivations might have been. Upon closer examination it becomes evident that the interpretive leap from a toppled gravestone to Satanism was made by journalists or in many cases a specific group of self-identified experts hailing from an evangelical Christian background (e.g., Rinne 1994, 1997; Ahorinta 1996). While some of the reports regarding “satanic” activity at cemeteries might have been received with scepticism among journalists and the wider audience, especially in the beginning of the phenomenon, the homicide case referred to as the “Hyvinkää garbage dump murder” etched the horror of Satanism indelibly into the consciousness of Finns. With its gory details of a group of Black Metal fans who − after a long day of drinking home-brewed spirits − killed and mutilated their friend, the Hyvinkää case defied rational explanation. Building on the already widely discussed public myth, Satanism seemed like a plausible explanation. And this time it was the secular public prosecutor, not a sectarian with a religious agenda, who brought up the issue. Although the appeal court decided that there was not enough evidence to link Satanism to the murder, in public consciousness − largely thanks to the media − the Hyvinkää case remains a satanic ritual murder (see Hjelm 2005a).

Satanism in Finland Today

So, should we conclude from the apparent overreactions of the media and some segments of Finnish society that Satanism does not exist? This is what the evangelical experts claim that academic researchers are doing when they say that Satanism is a social construction. What these experts misunderstand is that calling Satanism a social construction does not entail a dismissive stance − although certainly a critical one. From a social scientific perspective

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the public reactions to Satanism and the actual practice of Satanism are inseparably intertwined. First, the Satanism scare has created what I call − following Bill Ellis (1991) − pseudo-Satanism. Pseudo-Satanists are not actual Satanists at all but, especially in the case of cemetery vandalism, youth who exploit the hype surrounding alleged Satanist attacks on cemeteries and perpetuate the scare discourse by doing exactly what is expected. Even if the perpetrators are not consciously mimicking a topical type of deviance, the public hype gives the youth an example of where to cross the boundaries of decency and proper behaviour. Regarding this type of “Satanist”, it is interesting to note that the amount of cemetery vandalism cases runs roughly parallel to the amount of news coverage. After the media began to show some reluctance in attributing cemetery vandalism to Satanism, the actual occurrences of vandalism also decreased. Of course, it is evident that no clear-cut cause-and-effect dynamics can be proven in this case, but a correlation nevertheless exists. Second, it is clear that some people actually profess to be practising Satanists or “Satan worshippers”. The two main groupings among these are a) those who draw their inspiration from Anton LaVey or other more organised and established “satanic” traditions and b) those who have constructed their satanic worldview from a bricolage of Christian teachings, popular culture (horror films, Black Metal music), and interpretations of contemporary Satanism circulated especially on the Internet. (More fine-grained classifications have also been made − although not very convincingly [Hermonen 2006]). Although not very significant in the English discussions of the topic, the separation of Satanism (in the LaVeyan sense) and “Satan worship” (bricolage Satanism) has become a standard in the descriptions of the situation in Finland. Therefore, although these two groups should not be confused with each other, the common denominator is that members of both self-identify as Satanists or Satan worshippers. The major presence of Finnish Satanists adhering to the teachings of the Church of Satan or other established organisations can be found on the Internet. However, it seems that, unlike many other religious groups, Finnish Satanists have not harnessed the Internet as a vehicle for recruitment. Very likely, the easy availability of information has aroused interest in a way not possible before, but this has not resulted in a marked growth of practising Satanists, not to mention any attempts at organising satanic groups. Most of the Internet pages in Finnish are of an informational nature. A very important source of information on LaVeyan Satanism is Pakanaverkko ry. Pakanaverkko is a registered umbrella organisation for contemporary Finnish Pagans of any persuasion, including practitioners of, e.g., Wicca and

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Shamanism. It is exceptional in the sense that, also in an international context, it is one of the few organisations that admit Satanists among other contemporary Pagans. There are also two independent publishing houses in Finland that have specialised in the publication of satanic and left-hand path literature. Perhaps the most important publication has been the Finnish translation of LaVey’s Satanic Bible (LaVey 2007) by the publishing house Voimasana, now defunct. Temple of Set activist Tapio Kotkavuori has published a book explaining the philosophy of the left-hand path (Kotkavuori 2004) that has been recently translated into English (Kotkavuori 2007). The other notable publishing house is Ixaxaar, which publishes and distributes occult and satanic literature, notably the ­ritual works of The Order of Nine Angles. Important publications in Finnish include books explaining the philosophy of Azazelin tähti, a left-hand path organisation established in 2006 (see the chapter on occultism in Finland in this book). If tracking down and evaluating the number and religious outlook of individuals adhering to the more organised forms of Satanism (e.g., Church of Satan, Order of Nine Angles) in Finland is difficult, making any definitive statements about the group I have called bricolage Satanists is even more so. This group, although arguably largest in number, does not constitute a single body whether gauged by religious beliefs, actual practice of rituals, sources of inspiration, or by any other criterion. This type of Satanism is eclectic, drawing from various influences, most importantly popular culture such as extreme Metal music and horror films. In many cases the Satanism of the people in this category is a sort of secondary symbolism, drawing from popular culture interpre­ta­tions of Satanism and the myth of satanic cults perpetuated by the media and popular folklore. Although the beliefs and commitment to a satanic worldview vary considerably within the group, it differs from pseudo-Satanism in the sense that these bricolage Satanists actually self-identify as Satanists. Unfortunately, there is no room to discuss whether this is the outcome of genuine spiritual seeking or a response to outside labelling (Becker 1997; Hjelm 2002), but it is important to note that there is an active (and mostly youthful) community of people discussing a “satanic” way of life on message boards and in discussion groups. Going back to the public image of Satanism, one of the probable reasons for the hegemony of evangelical Christian experts in the news media was the late awakening of the Finnish academic community to the phenomenon of Satanism. Before the late 1990s there were hardly any critical studies of the issue. The systematic studies that have emerged in the beginning of the new millennium have either concentrated on the public reactions to phenomena

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understood as “Satanism” (Häger 2001; Hjelm 2002, 2005a) or have tried to ­typify the different forms that Satanism (or more widely, the left-hand path) takes. Of the latter, the most notable studies are Kennet Granholm’s analysis of the left-hand path group Dragon Rouge (Granholm 2005) and Merja Hermonen’s descriptive account of Satanism among Finnish youth (Hermonen 2006). There is, however, a continuing need for theoretically informed analyses of the relationship between Satanism and cemetery vandalism, and analyses of the belief systems and social forms of what I have referred to as bricolage Satanism.

Concluding Remarks

In sum, Satanism does exist in Finland, but hardly in the conspiratorial form imagined by some of the religious experts (cf. Frankfurter 2006). The most ­visible form of “Satanism” is and has been what I have referred to as pseudoSatanists, whose aim is mainly to shock without any personal commitment to a satanic worldview. The number of actual practising Satanists still remains small, but the advent of the Internet has created a “hangaround culture”, to borrow a term from biker slang. That is, people interested in the more organised forms Satanism and possibly subscribing to some of their tenets, but refraining from organised or ritual activity. In addition there is a group of selfstyled Satanists whose inspiration comes mainly from secondary sources, such as extreme Metal music and horror films. A noteworthy fact is that despite sporadic attempts at organisation, no stable and explicitly satanic groups have emerged in Finland − not to mention groups seeking public recognition under the Freedom of Religion Act. However, as long as the “dark” youth subculture of gothic rock and extreme Metal continues to be popular in Finland, there will be reactions − albeit not likely as strong as in the late 1990s − from the wider society to the perceived “Satanism” of the youth. Even if Satanism as a religion remains marginal, the phenomenon of Satanism is potentially alive and well in Finland.

References

Ahorinta, Keijo, Saatananpalvonnan monet kasvot, Helsinki: LK- kirjat, 1996. Becker, Howard, Outsiders: Studies in the Sociology of Deviance, New York: The Free Press of Glencoe, 1997 [1963].

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Ellis, Bill, “Legend-Trips and Satanism: Adolescents’ Ostensive Traditions as ‘Cult’ Activity”, in: James T. Richardson, Joel Best and David G. Bromley (eds.), The Satanism Scare, New York: Aldine deGryuter, 1991, 279–295. Frankfurter, David, Evil Incarnate: Rumors of Demonic Conspiracy and Satanic Abuse in History, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006. Häger, Andreas, Religion, rock och pluralism. En religionssociologisk studie av kristen diskurs om rockmusik, Diss. Uppsala Universitet, 2001. Heino, Harri, Mihin Suomi tänään uskoo, Helsinki: WSOY, 1998. Hermonen, Merja, Pimeä hehku: Satanismi ja saatanpalvonta 1990-luvun suomalaisessa nuorisokulttuurissa, Helsinki: Loki, 2006. Hjelm, Titus, “Driven by the Devil: Popular Constructions of Adolescent Satanist Careers”, Syzygy: Journal of Alternative Religion and Culture 11 (2002), 177–195. ——— . Saatananpalvonta, media ja suomalainen yhteiskunta, Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 2005a. ——— . “Religionizing Crime: Ethos and Action in the Construction of the Finnish Satanism Scare”, in: George Lundskow (ed.), Religious Innovation in a Global Age. Essays on the Construction of Spirituality, Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2005b, 176–198. Kotkavuori, Tapio, Vasemman käden polku, Kaarina: Voimasana, 2004. ——— . The Left-Hand Path, Kaarina: Voimasana, 2007. LaVey, Anton Szandor, Saatanallinen raamattu, Kaarina: Voimasana, 2007. Meller, Leo, Rock, Helsinki: Kuva ja Sana, 1986. Rinne, Riku, Syvyyden kuilusta, Helsinki: Kuva ja Sana, 1994. ——— . Pimeys väistyy, Helsinki: Kuva ja sana, 1997.

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Chapter 60 Satanism in Norway

Satanism in Norway Asbjørn Dyrendal The history of Satanism in Norway is, like everywhere else, primarily a history of fantasies about the Other. This history cannot, as Titus Hjelm explains (this volume), be left out of the picture in a presentation of Satanism. In Norway, as elsewhere, there has been important interaction between the publicly shared myth of Satanism as otherness, and the actual practice of Satanism. If one leaves early modern fantasies of witchcraft out of the picture, the recent history of “Satanism” belongs primarily to the world of media-enhanced rumors. Only during the first decade of the twenty-first century do we find organised, “religious” Satanism as a proven fact in Norway. Before this, there may have been scattered individual Satanists, or even small, but unknown groups, but the main arena for Satanism was in Evangelical lore about “the occult”. At different points in time, media took up these rumors, and during the early 1990s, they were fed by the pioneering bands of Norwegian, “satanic” Black Metal.

The 1970s and 1980s

Modern rumors about Satanism seem first to have reached Norwegian media during the middle of the 1970s. Evangelical summer camps a few years previously were reported to have spread an American lore about Satanism that was derived from apocalyptic, charismatic literature (cf. Dyrendal & Lap 2002). Pentecostal publishers Filadelfiaforlaget in Norway also translated and issued British “ex-Satanist” Doreen Irvine’s From Witchcraft to Christ in 1974, mainstream Christian publisher Luther forlag published a Norwegian book on the dangers of Satanism in 1976 (Hagen 1976), and another Pentecostal publisher (Logos) published a translation of Nicky Cruz’ Satan on the Loose in 1978. Throughout this literature, we find a clear pattern of adopting topics from American sources, which is made all the more clear by the only Norwegian book, Kaare Hagen’s Den religiøse Satan (The Religious Satan), which is also concerned with American examples. This set a pattern which was repeated throughout the 1980s and 1990s, with translations of popular American books

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assimilating local concerns and lore about Satanism to current American trends. From early on, these books used the Church of Satan as one of the examples of American Satanism, as the evidence of organised Satanism lending credibility to darker rumours. Thus knowledge about the recent organisational exploits of Satanism was mediated and disseminated, but there are few signs that any organised Satanism reached Norway at this time. There are hints in a few newspapers, a couple of letters and a phone call allegedly placed by anonymous self-declared Satanists who took issue with scaremongering stories about Satanism, but there is no further confirmation of the existence of any activities. Further hints were dropped during the late 1980s, when a later prominent claims-maker during the Norwegian Satanism scare alleged that there were clandestine, organised Satanists in Bergen who were engaged in criminal activities. No one has confirmed these reports, and the claims have been declared highly unlikely or dismissed as fantasies by both researchers and the occult community (Dyrendal 2006). The oldest of my informants became a member of the Church of Satan in 1984, and at the time knew of no other Norwegian Satanist. There may have been a few other individuals like him, although none is known to me. There is little evidence of any public interest in Satanism during the first half of the 1980s, neither from mainstream nor Evangelical media. During the last two years of the decade and the first two years of the 1990s, this slowly changed. The claims of the American Satanism scare were reported both sceptically and credulously in media, gradually turning into a media scare during the period 1991–1993. Mainstream media concentrated on allegations about organised ritual abuse, while Evangelical media translated several American books blending Satanism, teenage rebellion, and popular culture (foremost Heavy Metal music and horror film). This package seemed to fit with the first phase of overt Satanism in Norway, that of Black Metal and church arson, and thus had some success.

Black Metal and Satanism

During the late 1980s and first years of the 1990s, the Norwegian extreme metal scene turned from Death Metal to a homegrown version of Black Metal. Turning away from the casual dress style of Death Metal, they invented a more explicit, uniformed style going with a demand for ideological and musical purity. The central figure, Øystein Aarseth (aka “Euronymous”), wanted Satan to have the place in Black Metal that Jesus had in gospel music (Søderlind &

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Dyrendal 2009). His ideas about Satan were, however, derived less from Anton LaVey than from demonology-inspired horror. Indeed, several seminal recordings carried the inscription “anti-LaVey”, and in interviews Aarseth and fellow-minded Black Metallers decried LaVey as “too soft”. Their brand of Satanism was apocalyptic, directed towards “evil” and destruction, and thus had more in common with the Evangelical anti-Satanist literature’s portrayal of Satanism than it did with any existing organised Satanism. Nor did Black Metal Satanism have much (public) use for Aleister Crowley, but when Black Metallers hit the front pages, Crowley and Thelema were implicated by the press. In addition to labeling all Black Metallers Satanists, the OTO was pushed into the role as the sinister, organised Satanism “behind the curtain” that American-style conspiracy theories of Satanism craved. Sale of Crowley’s books was discontinued in several bookstores, in others, they were taken off the shelves and sold under the counter. The reasons for these reactions were twofold: First, Black Metal ceased being a virtually unknown subcultural phenomenon overnight when musician Varg Vikernes went public with a connection between it, church arson, and murder. (He was later convicted of one murder and several arsons; cf. Moynihan & Søderlind 1998). Second, the scene was set for serious concern about Satanism with the import of the Satanic Ritual Abuse mythology. A series of claims-­ makers came forth from 1991 through 1994 presenting allegations of conspiracy by sinister elitist Satanists involved in horrific child abuse, murder, and a host of other crimes (e.g., Nilsen 1996; cf. Dyrendal 1998). Concern about adolescent Satanism could be included in this scenario, but the theory demanded a nefarious scheme run by an elite of occultists behind it. Since the OTO had already been used as an example of Satanism in connection with the larger conspiracy theory, it was easy for media to continue the trend. As knowledge about Black Metal subculture increased, including the number of people involved in arson, violence, etc., and evidence of the larger conspiracy continued to be elusive, the latter theory dropped out of sight. Only the real phenomenon of church arson ever created local panics, but they nevertheless served to create a lasting image of what Satanism “really was” to the Norwegian public. It was all the more effective since there was no other public Satanism to contrast the public myth with. Ironically, there was an attempt at creating an esoteric form of Satanism during the early 1990s in Oslo. A meeting was announced with the explicit ambition of creating a satanic group, but according to informants interviewed by the present author the would-be leader was the only one who showed up, and no group was organised. The only “organised” Satanism to come out of the 1990s was the idiosyncratic Satanism of a few notable Black Metallers. However,

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theirs was not the only version of Satanism among Black Metallers. Some were attracted to deeper esoteric sources and took a more thelemic approach. And although Aarseth and Vikernes expressed contempt for LaVey and his brand of Satanism, others found it more to their liking. Several joined the Church of Satan on an individual basis, but they did not organise activities. Unlike Sweden, Denmark, and Finland, Norway got neither Church of Satan grottos nor Temple of Set pylons. Nor did they organise autonomous “temples”. As late as the end of the 1990s, it was impossible to find any satanic organisation in Norway.

The Norwegian Satanic Society

One of the barriers for constructing any partially above-ground version of Satanism was the image that had been constructed in the early 1990s. Satanists of other stripes had reason to keep their heads low, as conflation with the public myth was almost certain. Satanists were also few and far between when the Internet explosion made both international and national networking much easier. And it was primarily through the medium of the Internet that Satanism became visible and to any degree organised in Norway. The first “group” to go public was Det Norske Sataniske Samfunn, DNSS (The Norwegian Satanic Society), which went online during the fall of 2001. It started out as a one-man venture. More a website and a point where Satanists may connect than a conventional group, it has been devoted to promoting a LaVeyan, rationalist form of Satanism. Like the other satanic “organisation” considered below, DNSS has been crystal clear in its denunciation of the transgressive activities of Black Metal “Satanists”, who are considered mainly as “Christian Satanists”, caught up in the mistakes of Christian thought. DNSS started out as a webpage with only a few articles delineating the founder’s understanding of what Satanism was, but soon developed a forum and an electronic newsletter. At its high point, the forum had more than 400 registered users from across the country. Few of them (less than twenty) were actively participating at any one time. According to the founder, the newsletter had about an equal number of subscribers before a server crash in 2006 destroyed the subscriber list. In January 2008, there were slightly less than sixty subscribers to the newsletter, which has generally contained “heads up” about books, articles and coming events. Many of the subscribers to the forum at its high point were recent joiners, and most of the ones who had written a self-presentation were young (15–20 years) and male. Although their cultural preferences lean towards the Metal

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subculture, sympathisers with old Black Metal crimes are met with immediate and harsh criticism similar to that found in official policy statements. A few of the older participants are members of the Church of Satan, while most are not. Attitudes towards the CoS from non-members varied from sympathetic to generally critical, but the main reason for non-affiliation seemed to be the individualist philosophy of LaVeyan Satanism: Just why should a non-joiner join a club for non-joiners? The minimal community of sometime online participation seemed to suffice. One might even say that this level has been too much: participation has dropped into the miniscule. The forum is now almost dead, and even the later Facebook site is devoid of any activity. The official statement on Satanism is purely LaVeyan in a highly secular, rationalist version. Satan and gods are interpreted symbolically, and they prefer to call the system of thought a philosophy, rather than a religion. The satanic ideal is likened to Nietzsche’s Übermensch, but with a focus mainly on the ability to rise above a search for absolutes, and embracing life as it really is. Central satanic values proclaimed are pride, productivity, reflection, pleasure, and responsibility. The ideology proclaimed by DNSS embraces a plurality of views on specific issues, but the core LaVeyan ideas seem unchallenged. Interest in esoteric subjects has seemed to be generally low. The few times such questions have come up in the forum – usually as a guarded question rather than as the promotion of a point of view – few replied, and the replies were generally sceptical. The founder comments that there is no consensus on esotericism and magic, but that LaVey seems to opt for a Satanism where magic and the esoteric is absent. Thus, those who do not want to include such elements are free to manage without them. For the more esoterically inclined, DNSS cooperated with another “organisation”, Ordo Illuminatorum (OI), which set up an ambitious chart of “subgroups”, consisting of Norwegian Satanic Temples (NST) and Ordo Templi Satanas (OTS).

Ordo Illuminatorum

The official document of this now long defunct “group” stated that the Norwe­ gian branch of the OI was started from Scotland in 2000, whereas the NST was started by a circle of friends in Sandefjord in the late 1990s. The central figure seems in both cases to have been the same person. Like DNSS, the OI/NST was run by a young male student. The implicated “Ordo Templi Satanas” is un­related to the known splinter group of the Church of Satan, which had a brief lease on life during the mid-1970s. I have no information on this alleged version of the OTS, other than that it was supposedly set up as an organisation for contact

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between “lodges” throughout the country. These “lodges” were of dubious existence. Even the theoretical relations between OI, NST, and “OTS” were unclear, and it is uncertain to which degree it would be useful to treat them as separate. The NST was certainly in name and symbolism described as a subgrouping of the OI, but at the same time referred to the OTS for information on its degree system. There was however, no spokesperson for the OTS, and all OTS links quickly lead to dead ends, making it probable that this was quickly reduced to mainly being the name of an idea. The OI and the NST were both clearly used as names given to active participants, but it is far from clear to which degree they were anything but co-extensive in practice. For the present purposes, they may be treated as such, since its principals and the sources of information were identical. Early in its history, the OI/NST had links to regional contacts and alleged groups in several Norwegian cities. These were gone by 2008, when there almost certainly still were “members” from many regions, but from looking at the NST discussion board, it was unlikely that they reached the level of even potentially constituting groups in more than a couple of places. With seventy-five members for an open board, one would estimate a small handful of active partici­pants. In 2009, all activity had died down, and active participants seemed to have moved on to more established, related esoteric bodies. As the names Ordo Illuminatorum and Ordo Templi Satanas imply, the OI/NST drew inspiration from the thelemic reading of esoteric history, with a genealogy of inspiration leading back to many of the same sources as those invoked in thelemic mythic history. As with the DNSS, Anton LaVey’s The Satanic Bible was a primary source of inspiration for its Satanism. This was stated both on its home page and in interviews (cf. Søderlind & Dyrendal 2009). But unlike DNSS, the OI/NST was both explicitly thelemic and an initiatory order with a degree system. It tried to take LaVey’s words that Satanism demands study, not worship seriously, in that elevation to higher degrees was, theoretically, dependent on the fulfillment of requirements. Two on-line classes were offered to members, with two teachers following up. The OI/NST reading list consisted of around seventy documents, most of them books in the esoteric tradition ranging from classical Hermetic texts to Theosophy, Golden Dawn, and Crowley’s books. Links to additional, outside articles, Thelemapedia among them, and the beginnings of an internal encyclopedia of symbolism, made it clear that the OI should be classified among the esoteric forms of Satanism. From conversation and correspondence it would seem that this esotericism was primarily interpreted in a rationalist manner as a symbolic language for self-transformation. The OI seemed to stress study and personal development, with alchemy and Kabbalah as aids. There

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were, however, almost certainly individual differences with regard to both the importance of the esoteric and in how it was interpreted. Closer scrutiny might have shown a situation somewhat similar to that of the OTO, with whom the OI even at that stage had at least a small overlap in membership: some leading members propose an almost exclusively rationalist, psychological understanding of magick, while others have a stronger esoteric interest with spiritualist leanings. This would also fit with the founder’s statement that the NST was the Norwegian order of the Temple of Nox, an international, Internet-based Satanic order which was linked from the NST homepage, and which embraces many versions of Satanism in addition to LaVey’s.

Future Prospects

Unlike the public myth that was constructed through to the early twenty-first century, Satanism is mainly an individual identity, not a collective venture. Thus, Satanism tends to be low-cost for almost all, with regard to both time and money spent. Organisation in Norway was at best rudimentary, and the pull of organised activity all but non-existent. Individual creativity and identity-making still continues, and most known Satanist activity has been short-lived and rooted in a small group of friends. Norwegian Satanism seems to have become relatively well-rooted and diverse, but “organisation” and “organised” activities have hinged on a very few persons. Thus it is no surprise that this part of it has died out for the time being. Most Satanists are fairly young, but there are also several who have reached the age where they are (or even have been) raising a second generation in a satanic household. Research into these aspects of Norwegian Satanism has yet to be done, as is indeed the case for most aspects of Norwegian Satanism. In a country where public misperception is still very strong, where psychiatric “experts” still issue warnings about rings of satanic perverts, and where affiliation with Satanism may be the sole cause for the intervention of child protective services, such research is sorely needed.

References

Dyrendal, Asbjørn, “Media Constructions of Satanism in Norway”, FOAF Tale News 43 (1998), 2–5. ——— . “Fusk eller heksejakt? Saken mot Eva Lundgren”, Humanist. Tidsskrift for livssynsdebatt 1 (2006), 48–65.

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Dyrendal, Asbjørn and Amina Olander Lap, “Satanism as News Item in Norway and Denmark: A Brief History”, Syzygy: Journal of Alternative Religion and Culture 11 (2002), 197–232. Hagen, Kaare, Den religiøse Satan, Oslo: Luther forlag, 1976. Levi, Geir Nilsen, Satanisme som samtidsmyte, M.Phil. Thesis, Dept. for Cultural Studies, University of Oslo, 1996. Moynihan, Michael and Didrik Søderlind, Lords of Chaos: The Bloody Rise of the Satanic Metal Underground, Venice, Ca.: Feral House, 1998. Søderlind, Didrik and Asbjørn Dyrendal, “Social Democratic Satanism? Some Examples of Satanism in Scandinavia”, in: Jesper Aa. Petersen (ed.), Contemporary Religious Satanism, London: Ashgate, 2009, 154–170.

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Chapter 61 Satanism in Sweden

Satanism in Sweden Henrik Bogdan

Satanists and Satanic Organisations in Sweden

Although it is likely that a number of Swedes during the 1970s and 1980s took an interest in Satanism, and a few perhaps even joined foreign organisations such as the Church of Satan, it is during the first half of the 1990s that Satanism enters the Swedish religious landscape in earnest (Bogdan 2008). As in the other Nordic countries, organised Satanism in Sweden can be divided into two main categories: (1) groups inspired by or directly linked to “mainstream Satanism”, in particular the LaVeyan brand as codified by The Satanic Bible and institutionalised as the Church of Satan, and (2) groups that have evolved from the Scandinavian Black Metal scene. It should be noted, however, that organised Satanism has always been a small phenomenon in Sweden, even during its heydays in the 1990s. The majority of the Swedish Satanists appear to have been individuals who did not belong to any satanic group or organisation, and who thus can be labelled as “solitary Satanists”. The majority of these solitary Satanists got in contact with Satanism through either the Internet or by reading The Satanic Bible, which was translated into Swedish in 1995 by Carl Abrahamsson, and published with the title Den sataniska bibeln (Stockholm: Looking Glass Press). Although Abrahamsson during the early 1990s was often considered to be a high ranking member of The Church of Satan and a personal friend of Anton LaVey, there has never been an official Swedish section of the CoS. The Temple of Set, on the contrary, has had a more formal presence in Sweden with a so-called pylon (i.e., a local section) in Uppsala with the name Black Rûna Pylon. This section was according to their website (now defunct) founded in 1997, and the first Swedish member joined the ToS in 1993. The Swedish members appear to have had close contact with the Finnish section at the time, the Kalevala Pylon, founded in 1991. The ToS only appears to have operated for a few years in Sweden, however, and it does not seem to have any formal presence in Sweden at the time of writing, although it still has a few solitary Swedish members. It is debatable, however, whether the Temple of Set should be considered as belonging to the Satanic milieu despite of strong

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historical links between the CoS and ToS. In 1975 a number of high-ranking members of CoS left the organisation and founded the ToS, under the leadership of Michael A. Aquino. The ToS differed primarily in how Satan, identified as the ancient Egyptian god Set, was interpreted. In contrast to the “rationalist” form of Satanism encountered in the writings of LaVey and the CoS, Aquino’s understanding of Set/Satan is theistic, and Satan is thus worshiped as a deity rather than a symbol. ToS has distanced itself over the years from its origins in Satanism, and the members today usually refer to themselves as Setians rather than as Satanists. Of the Swedish satanic organisations it is in particular Svenska Satanist­kyr­ kan (The Swedish Satanist Church) and Misantropiska Lucifer Orden (The Misanthropic Luciferian Church) that stand out, both in terms of the attention they have received in the media and in terms of their organisational efforts. Svenska Satanistkyrkan (SSK) was founded in Uddevalla in 1996 by Tommy Eriksson, and according to their journal Anti-Krist (2000) the church merged with another existing organisation, The Satanic Order, in 1998, and for a number of years both names were used by the organisation. It had at one stage two local sections, the Muspelheim lodge in Uddevala, and the Nexion lodge in Malmö. In addition to these sections, it maintained for a number of years an Internet-based bookstore called Belial Center in Uddevalla, which sold esoteric and satanic literature, specialising in books by Anton LaVey. The form of Satanism that Svenska Satanistkyrkan represented was heavily coloured by LaVey’s atheist and rationalist Satanism, although they emphasised that they did not want to limit their understanding of the satanic view of life and philosophy to that of LaVey. In an interview with Tommy Eriksson, published in the first issue of Anti-Krist (1999), Eriksson explained how he interpreted Satan, in terms akin to those of LaVey: ‘He represents the eternally burning life-force. I see Satan more as a symbol that motivates my will-power and energy towards a specific goal, rather than as the Christian version of Satan as a physical entity’. The Church emphatically stressed that it did not have any formal ties to other satanic organisations, such as the Church of Satan. With the waning interest in Satanism during the first years of the twenty-first century the Svenska Satanistkyrkan gradually appears to have ceased its activities, and at the time of writing seems to have closed down. Misantropiska Lucifer Orden (MLO) was founded in the mid-1990s in Gothenburg, and it received a lot of attention from the media in connection with a homicide on Ramberget in Gothenburg in 1997. Two leading members of the organisation, “Vlad” and Jon Nödtveidt, shot and killed the Algerian Josef Ben Meddaour, whom they believed to be homosexual. Nödtveidt, who was also a member of the Death/Black Metal band Dissection, would later commit

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suicide (on 13 August 2006) after he had been released from prison in 2004. It is hard to ascertain to what extent (if any) the perpetrators’ satanic ideology was a motivating factor for the murder, but it is nevertheless obvious that MLO represented a far more radical form of Satanism than mainstream LaVeyan Satanism. The original members of MLO belonged to the Black Metal scene, and the movement was in its initial stage highly closed and introverted – but it gradually opened up and even launched a website through which their particular form of Satanism was presented to presumptive members. In order to become a member of MLO, at least in the early days, one had to undergo a rite of initiation that, according to an interview published in No Tears for Queers (2005), included an animal sacrifice in the form of slaughtering five cats. The Satanic doctrines of MLO are set down in a collection of texts, Chaosophy, the contents of which show that the author is well versed in a number of occultist systems. Apart from a number of philosophical and religious texts, Chaosophy contains descriptions of a large number of rituals, which might attest to the fact that MLO emphasises the performance of rituals and the practice of magic. MLO has in recent years changed its name to Temple of the Black Light, and its ideology can be described as a form of esoteric Satanism, or as they prefer to call it, a ‘new wrathful form of Gnostic Left Hand Path’. This form of Satanism can be understood as a form of “esoteric” Satanism in the terminology of Jesper Petersen. According to Petersen, self-declared Satanists can be divided into three ideal-typical categories: Rationalist, Esoteric, and Reactive (Petersen 2009: 6–7). The first type is the atheistic and philosophical Satanism derived from LaVey and the CoS; the second is an esoteric and initiatory form of Satanism focused on “self-deification”, and thus closely linked to “Left-Hand Path” forms of occultism (Granholm 2009: 85–101). Finally, the third type is to a large extent a reaction against traditional and institutionalised forms of Christianity, an inversion of Christianity and popular conceptions of Satan and Satanists.

The Swedish Satanism Scare

Compared to the other Nordic countries, the Swedish Satanism scare is conspicuous by the fact that it contains all the four factors that characterise Satanism scares in the Nordic context: ritual abuse, church burnings, murder, and cemetery vandalism, whereas the Satanism scare in the other Nordic countries tend to emphasise only one or two of these characteristics. In addition to this, the Swedish Satanism scare is, from a Nordic perspective, unique in the sense that the most prominent voices in the debate were not limited

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to Christian evangelical counter-cult groups, or the yellow press, but also involved the national television networks and daily papers, as well as academic participants. During the 1970s and early 1980s, the Swedish notion of a satanic underground was to a large extent influenced by the North American Christian evangelical counter-cult movement, with an especial focus on the malevolent nature of Hard Rock music. It was claimed that the music genre functioned as a cover for a sinister organised satanic underground which, through the music, aimed to seduce the Swedish youth to embrace Satanism, drug abuse, and sexual promiscuity. The impact of this discourse is remarkable, and the awareness (if not the actual belief) that Hard Rock records allegedly contain hidden ­messages – especially when played backwards – was widespread among school­children in the 1970s and early 1980s. In the 1990s the Satanism scare was to a large extent influenced by the events in Norway, and it was in particular the Black Metal version of Satanism that was singled out as being specifically dangerous. Although cemetery vandalism was reported in the media already in the early 1980s (in the form of alleged occult/satanic ceremonies), the 1990s witnessed a widespread vandalism that often included toppled gravestones. This practice continues to be reported in the media with hundreds of toppled gravestones throughout Sweden, and it is often assumed that Satanists are responsible for these acts. The reason for this assumption is that in certain cases it has been reported that satanic symbols, such as pentagrams and inverted crosses, as well as sacrificed animals, such as cats, have been found at cemeteries. In a similar manner, a number of church burnings are assumed to have been perpetrated by Satanists, and in a few cases this is apparently the case. The afore-mentioned 1997 murder by two leading members of MLO was widely discussed in the media, and it was often assumed that the murder was motivated by their satanic ideology. The Satanism scare during the 1990s was thus to a certain extent based on actual acts that had been committed by self-styled Satanists, but the number of such acts was not in proportion to the attention given to Satanism by the media. Allegations of satanic crimes were often founded on hearsay and wild speculations, and hard facts and evidence were absent. The most high-profile involvement by any academic in the Swedish Satanism scare concerns Eva Lundgren, a Professor at the Department of Sociology, Uppsala University. Lundgren claimed on a number of occasions during the 1990s and the early 2000s that Swedish organised Satanic groups had not only sexually abused children, but also ritually sacrificed children. The fact that these allegations came from a professor at one of Sweden’s most prestigious universities, caused them to be widely discussed in the media. The controversy

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surrounding Lundgren’s research (controversies which were not limited to claims of satanic ritual abuse and murder) culminated in 2005 when Uppsala University evaluated charges that, among other things, her research was based on fabricated sources. Lundgren was, however, acquitted from the charges (Dyrendal 2006). In sum, then, the Satanism Scare and the actual forms of Satanism practised in Sweden follow the same pattern as in the other Nordic countries. It should be noted, however, that mainstream Satanism (understood as the LaVeyan form) has all but disappeared from the Swedish scene, while the more radical and esoteric form – as typified by the Temple of the Black Light – continues to have a presence.

References

Alexandersson, Kerstin and Anette Karls Fos, Kyrkan brinner! Vad händer sedan?, Stockholm: Riksantikvarieämbetet, 2004. Bogdan, Henrik, “Satanism i Sverige”, in: Ingvar Svanberg and David Westerlund (eds.), Religion i Sverige, Stockholm: Dialogos, 2008, 339–343. Dyrendal, Asbjørn, “Fusk eller heksejakt? Saken mot Eva Lundgren” (2006) [] (Accessed 11 March 2014). Granholm, Kennet, “Embracing Others than Satan: The Multiple Princes of Darkness in the Left-Hand Path Milieu”, in: Jesper Aagaard Petersen (ed.), Contemporary Religious Satanism: A Critical Anthology, London: Ashgate, 2009, 85–101. Petersen, Jesper Aagaard (ed.), Contemporary Religious Satanism: A Critical Anthology, London: Ashgate, 2009.

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Chapter 62 Spiritualism in Denmark

Spiritualism in Denmark Jesper Vaczy Kragh Spiritualism was a highly conspicuous movement in nineteenth- and twentieth-century Denmark. It attracted people from a range of social classes and spread to various parts of the country. It also became a widely discussed movement among the public. Danish spiritualists caught the attention of academics, created a stir in the press, and alarmed and annoyed the Danish clergy. However, spiritualism had its rise and fall, and periods of great interest were followed by times of decline.

The Rise of Spiritualism in Denmark

Spiritualism came to Denmark from Germany. In March, 1853, the German press began to print reports of table turning, and news of these experiments reached Denmark in April the same year. Spiritualism became an object of public debate in Copenhagen, and several pamphlets on spiritualism were published in the 1850s. Especially the writings of the Danish politician, author, and spiritualist, Constant Dirckinck-Holmfeld (1799–1880), attracted attention to the spiritualist cause. In the late 1850s, leading Danish intellectuals and artists such as the theologian Hans Lassen Martensen (1808–1884), the dramatist Johan Ludvig Heiberg (1791–1860), and the actress Johanne Luise Heiberg (1812–1890) began to show an interest in spiritualism. Thus, small private circles, devoted to the study of spiritualist phenomena, were established. In the early 1860s, the first spiritualist organisation, Foreningen til Undersøgelse af de såkaldte Spiritistiske Fænomener (The Society for the Investigation of the So-called Spiritualist Phenomena) was founded by the bookkeeper Harald Jensen (1810–1889). He also translated works by the French spiritualist Allan Kardec (1804–1869), Le Livre des Esprits (1857) and Le Livre des Médiums (1861), into Danish. However, it was not until the late 1880s that a large spiritualist movement took shape. In the following decades, new organisations, private circles, and a large number of spiritualist journals appeared. The exact number of people sympathising with spiritualism is unknown, but a considerable number of spiritualist organisations existed in the twentieth century. In the 1930s, more than sixty spiritualist organisations were united in Danske Spiri­tisters

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Kirkesamfund (The Religious Community of Danish Spiritualists). The biggest organisation, Spirititisk Broderskab (The Spiritualist Brotherhood), founded in 1894, had more than 2,000 members in the beginning of the twentieth century. The Spiritualist Brotherhood was also one of the oldest of the organisations, and its teachings were an example to most of the other organisations. The foundation of the spiritualist organisations was the belief in life after death and that contact with spirits could be obtained through a sensitive intermediary, i.e., a medium. According to the spiritualists, life on earth did not end with the death of the physical body; rather, the human soul was reborn several times. In this respect, most Danish organisations were deeply inspired by Allan Kardec and his notion of reincarnation. Unitarian conceptions about a unity of God and the humanity of Jesus as well as a belief in science and progress were included in the teachings of the majority of spiritualist organisations. The spiritualists supported Darwinism and opposed the Danish National Church and its notions of hell and eternal condemnation, which they found erroneous. Instead, they proclaimed a new liberal Christian faith. Salvation was for everyone, said the spiritualists, and God did not condemn or punish anybody. In the spiritualist version of Christianity, the belief in progress played a central role. It was a part of God’s scheme that both the material and spiritual world were developing for the better. Life was a learning process and part of a perfect plan, where every man and woman, after a series of reincarnations, would attain all the love and happiness that God had intended for all his creations. The religious life in the spiritualist organisation was centred on séances or sittings, lectures on the spiritualist religion and, to a lesser extent, various social causes. Unlike their peers in the USA and other Western countries, Danish spiritualists were not deeply engaged in social reforms. In their journals, Danish spiritualists occasionally supported the emancipation of women and criticised prevailing gender roles. Philanthropic work was also carried out by a small segment of the spiritualist organisations, but social and economic inequality was not a major issue in the majority of these organisations. Besides the spiritualist organisations, a number of private circles existed in the early twentieth century. For the members of some of these circles, religious matters played a minor role. They raised objections to the spiritualist organisations’ religious ceremonies, which they found unscientific, and they also criticised the organisations’ adherence to the teachings of Allan Kardec. On the other hand, anti-Christian spiritualists, well-known in countries like Britain, were not common in Denmark.

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Spiritualists, Scientists, and Critics

Despite these controversies, Danish spiritualists reached a consensus when they discussed the scientific nature of spiritualism. They claimed that it was possible to prove the existence of life after death, and that spiritualist phenomena could be observed under strictly scientific conditions at séances with mediums. Like in other European countries, these claims were tested by scientists. In Denmark, respected scientists, especially psychiatrists and psychol­ogists, were engaged in the study of spiritualist phenomena. The most extensive work on the subject was done by the first Danish professor of psychology, Alfred Lehmann (1858–1921). Lehmann, who had studied psychology at Wilhelm Wundt’s institute in Leipzig, in 1886 established the first Psychophysical Laboratory in Copenhagen. In 1890, he embarked on a critical study of spiritualism and its predecessors. Lehmann’s four-volume work Overtro og Trolddom (Superstition and Witchcraft), published between 1893 and 1896, became a key element in the struggle against spiritualism in Denmark. However, Lehmann’s errand was not an outright dismissal of spiritualism, but to carefully replace what he felt were erroneous interpretations with scientific explanations. He also stressed that the study of spiritualist phenomena such as automatic writing could give a valuable insight into psychological matters and shed light on the subject of the unconscious mind. Lehmann’s study of superstition and witchcraft was also embraced by sceptical scientists outside Denmark, and was translated into German, Hungarian, Russian, and other languages. Particularly in Germany, Lehmann’s work was very well received. German editions of Superstition and Witchcraft (under the title Aberglaube und Zauberei) were published in 1898, 1908, 1925, 1969, and 1986. A sixth edition was released as recently as in 2008. Alfred Lehmann became a member of the Danish Society for Psychical Research, founded in 1905 in Copenhagen. The aim of the society was to conduct critical, but impartial, studies of spiritualist phenomena. Beside Lehmann, all the leading figures within Danish psychiatry and psychology were members of the society. Professor of psychiatry, August Wimmer (1872–1937), was one of many medical doctors who conducted critical studies of spiritualism. Like many of his colleagues, Wimmer rejected the spiritualists’ claims about communication with the dead. He considered spiritualism to be a pathological phenomenon and argued in Danish and international medical journals that a preoccupation with spiritualism could lead to insanity. Similar claims were published by another distinguished psychiatrist, Alexander Friedenreich (1849–1932), who stated that spiritualist séances might cause psychosis. Only a small number of medical doctors had a more positive attitude towards

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spiritualism. The staff doctor at the St Hans Mental Hospital, Niels Christian Borberg (1880–1964), who also was a member of the Society for Psychical Research, was one of the few to dispute the claims put forward by Wimmer and Friedenreich. He doubted that spiritualism posed any significant risk to mental health and emphasised that he had never in his long carrier as a psychiatrist seen any cases of spiritualist madness. Scientific investigations of spiritualist mediums were conducted by the Danish Society for Psychical Research in the period from 1920 to 1950. The society’s inquiries into spiritualist manifestations included two famous Danish mediums, Einer Nielsen (1883–1965) and Anna Melloni Rasmussen (1898–1983), both of whom had also received the attention of scholars in other European countries. In 1921, investigations of the materialisation medium Einer Nielsen were carried out by three members of the society, who subsequently published a favourable report recognising Nielsen’s abilities. A new investigation, however, was set up in 1922 by a committee from the Kristiania University in Norway. The Norwegian researchers could not confirm the Danish results and accused Nielsen of being a fraud. The Norwegian disclosure, which was widely covered by the Danish press, was a serious setback for the Danish spiritualists. Experiments with Anna Melloni Rasmussen, who had a reputation of producing poltergeist or telekinesis phenomena, were conducted by the Danish Society for Psychical Research in the early 1920s. A favourable report, that considered Melloni’s mediumship genuine, was published by the president of the society, Professor Christian Winther (1873–1968), in 1930. Later, in the 1940s, the report gave rise to a controversy regarding Anna Melloni, and new experiments with the medium were conducted by researchers from the University of Copenhagen in 1945. These experiments took place in April the same year, and a statement from the researchers at the University was subsequently released, concluding that the phenomena could be wholly ascribed to mechanical causes. In 1950, during a new series of experiments, a hidden camera revealed that Anna Melloni had used fraudulent methods to produce the alleged spiritualist phenomena. This revelation in 1950 made headlines in the Danish newspapers and was an even more serious setback for the spiritualists than the Einer Nielsen scandal. Numerous spiritualist organisations and journals ceased to exist after the disclosure. The last of the spiritualist journals, Spiritistisk Tidende (Spiritualist Tidings), stopped being published in 1959.

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The Contemporary Situation

In the 1950s and the following decades, spiritualism was a marginal religious movement in Denmark. However, a new interest in spiritualism could be observed in the 1990s. In particular, the television broadcast Åndernes Magt (The Power of the Spirits) reached a large audience and drew attention to spiritualism. Several books and other publications on spiritualism were published after the television broadcast had been shown, and new spiritualist organisations were also established. A small number of spiritualist churches still exist in Denmark at the time of writing, notably in the larger cities such as Copenhagen and Aarhus. The Society for Psychical Research in Copenhagen also exists, but is no longer an organisation that attracts distinguished scientists. At the time of writing, experimental research in spiritualism and parapsychology is not being carried out by the society. The members convene on a monthly basis, where lectures on parapsychology are given and the Society publishes a half-yearly journal, Dansk Tidsskrift for Psykisk Forskning (Danish Journal of Psychical Research).

References

Berger, Arthur S. and Joyce Berger, The Encyclopedia of Parapsychology and Psychical Research, New York: Paragon House, 1991 (contains articles on Danish mediums Anna Melloni and Einer Nielsen). Borberg, Niels Christian, “Spiritismen i Nutidsbelysning”, Politiken, 26 February 1920. Borregaard, Svend, Spiritisme. Historie, Fænomener, Lære, København: Gads Forlag 1936. “Det endelige resultat”, Politiken, 8 April 1945. Dirckinck-Holmfeld, Constant, Overnaturlige Phænomener, København: Pio, 1856. Friedenreich, Alexander, “Om Spaltningen af Bevidstheden”, Ugeskrift for Læger, 70 (1908): 871–879 and 899–907. “Fru Anna Rasmussen Forsøgene i London”, B.T., 1 February 1938. Gerloff, Hans, Phantome von Copenhagen. Das Medium Einer Nielsen, München: Dr. Gerlach’sche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1954. Kragh, Jesper Vaczy, “Mellem religion og videnskab. Spiritismen i 1800- og 1900-tallet”, Scandia 68:1 (2002), 53–75. ——— . “En anden verden. Strejftog i spiritismens ritualer og seancer”, in: U. Langen (ed.), Ritualernes magt. Ritualer i europæisk historie 500–2000, Roskilde: Roskilde Universitetsforlag, 2002, 163–195. ——— . “Overtro og trolddom. Selskabet for Psykisk Forskning 1905–1930”, Fortid og nutid, 89:3, (2003), 163–185.

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Lehmann, Alfred, Overtro og Trolddom. Part I–IV, København: Thanning og Appel, 1893–1896. ——— . Aberglaube und Zauberei von den ältesten Zeiten an, Greiz: Medien­gruppe König, 2008. Mediet Einer Nielsen, kontrolundersøkelser av universitetskomiteen i Kristiania, Kristiania 1922. Moustgaard, I.K. (ed.), Udviklingslinier i dansk psykologi fra Alfred Lehmann til i dag, København: Gyldendal, 1986. Nielsen, Einer, Solid Proofs of Survival, translated by Helmi Krohn, London: Psychic Book Club, 1950. Overskou, Thomas, Af mit Liv og min Tid. 1819–1873, 2, edited by Robert Neiiendam, København: Arnold Busck, 1962. Ravn, A., Borddans, Bordvandring og andre Bordbevægelser. Fremstillede og oplyste ved Forsøg, København: Pio, 1853. Schioldann, Johan, “On Possession States, August Wimmer”, History of Psychiatry, 4 (1993), 413–440. Triantafillou, Peter, and Alfonso Moreira, “Modern Templates of Happiness: Performing Spiritualism and Psychotechnics in Denmark”, History of the Human Sciences, 18:2 (2005), 87–109. “Uhyggelig Svindel med Ånde-maning afsløret”, Politiken, 17 April 1950. Wimmer, August, “Mediumistiske Sindslidelser”, Hospitalstidende, 65:34 (1922), 545–552. ——— . “La folie médiumnique”, L’Encéphale 18:1 (1923), 8–26. Winther, Christian, Experimentelle Untersuchungen über Telekinesis, Leipzig: Verlag von Oswald Mutze, 1930.

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Chapter 63 Spiritualism in Finland

Spiritualism in Finland Jussi Sohlberg

The Early Days of Spiritualism in Finland

Spiritualism in Finland had a precursor in Swedenborgianism. The famous Swedish mystic, theologian, and natural scientist Emanuel Swedenborg (1688– 1772) has been seen as one of the forerunners of Spiritualism. Some ­writings of Emanuel Swedenborg have been available in Finland at least since the ­midnineteenth century. But it was as late as in 1900 that the first book by Swedenborg was translated into Finnish. During the early twentieth century, Swedenborg was mentioned quite frequently in the Finnish newspapers. Swedenborg’s purported ability to converse with spirits, his journeys to other planets, and his descriptions of heaven and hell became well- known in Finland. Finnish scholars Tiina Mahlamäki and Tomas Mansikka have suggested that Sweden­ borg’s ideas influenced on the Finnish cultural and spiritual milieu during the nineteenth century was considerable (Mahlamäki & Mansikka 2013: 300–307). Spiritualism in the strict sense of the word arrived in Finland at the turn of the twentieth century, a time when other alternatives to the dominant Evan­ gelical Lutheran Church, such as Theosophy, also gained a foothold in the country. It is known that some English mediums visited Finland at this time. In 1908 the famous English medium Alfred Vouis held eight Spiritualist séances in Helsinki. This may have provided the inspiration for founding the first Finnish Spiritualist magazine, Spiritualisti (The Spiritualist). Soon thereafter, in 1909, local Spiritualist societies were founded in Helsinki and Tampere. Articles in the magazine indicate that Theosophical ideas aroused interest also among Finnish Spiritualists (Hjelt 2012). Closely related to Spiritualism is the scholarly (or semi-scholarly) interest in parapsychology, also introduced in Finland at this time. A Swedish-speaking society for studying parapsychological phenomena, Sällskapet för psykisk forskning (Society for Psychic Research), was founded in 1907. Especially in its early phase, the society had a special interest in Spiritualist phenomena. One prominent member, Professor of Philosophy Arvi Grotenfelt (1863–1941), was one of the few academics who tried to establish the scientific study of parapsychology. Grotenfelt himself had a critical (but open) attitude towards Spiritualist and supranormal phenomena.

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A similar Finnish-language organisation, Suomen parapsykologinen tutkimusseura ry (Parapsychological Research Society of Finland), was founded in 1938 and officially registered in 1943 (the abbreviation ry stands for registered association). In the 1950s, the society decided to conduct empirical parapsychological research, along lines similar to those of the parapsychological research programme that had been conducted at Duke University already during the 1930s. In the 1960s, the Finnish society shifted away from academic issues and focused increasingly on spirituality and metaphysics (Aho 1993: 15–26, 101–105, 125–132).

The Post-War Years

After the Second World War, interest in Spiritualism increased. An organisation with Spiritualist aims, Suomen Spiritualistinen Seura ry (The Spiritualist Association of Finland) was founded in 1946 (and registered in 1948) in Helsinki. The association joined the International Spiritualist Federation (IFS) in 1948. Several individuals played key roles in promoting Spiritualism in Finland in these post-War years. The first chairman of the society, Helmi Krohn (1871–1967), had a significant role in disseminating, translating, and writing Spiritualist literature. Gerda Ryti (1886 -1984), the wife of President Risto Ryti, supported the translation of Spiritualist books into Finnish (Religions in Finland database 2014). Under the leadership in the period 1971 to 1985 of Maire Kiira (1922–2009), chairman of the Finnish Spiritualist association and board member of IFS, the Finnish Spiritualist movement gained more members than ever before (Suomen Spiritualistinen Seura ry 2014). Finally, mention should be made of Svea Richnau (1922–2007), who was a founding member of the Swedish Spiritualist society in Finland in 1951. Finnish journalist and author Oskar Reponen wrote her biography in 1977, a book that was widely read and gained a lot of publicity for the Spiritualist movement (Suomen Spiritualistinen Seura ry 2014). In 1988, local groups of Suomen Spiritualistinen Seura ry began to function as separate local entities called Spiritual Growth associations. At the time of writing (2014), Suomen Spiritualistinen Seura ry has 1545 members and nine local associations. The Association promotes seven basic tenets that British medium Emma Hardinge Britten (1823–1899) claimed to have received from the spirit world in 1871. These seven tenets are formulated in the following way by the Association:

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1. God is Our Father, Light, Power and Love, 2. All people are our sisters and brothers, 3. The Soul will continue its life after death, 4.Contact with the spiritual world is possible, 5. Every human being is responsible for his or her deeds, 6. What we sow in this life, we shall reap in another life, 7. Every soul is on its way of eternal progress (Suomen Spiritualistinen Seura ry 2014, my translation). Countercultural influences came to Finland in the early 1970s. The New Age milieu that developed in its wake (and is described in a separate chapter in the present volume) comprises an element that has distinct similarities with earlier Spiritualism: channelling. One of the earliest New Age communities in Finland is Valonkantajat ry (Lightbearers), founded in 1987 (registered in 1990). The group itself was formed on the basis of British channelled messages from the 1960s. Channelling has been its main activity since the beginning. Members of the group have received messages purportedly coming from various nonphysical entities, but also from deceased persons. Valonkantajat is still active and has around 200 members (Udd 2006: 26, 45–50).

Recently Founded Spiritualist Associations

Kaariporttiystävät and Kaariportti kappeli -yhdistys ry (Friends of Bowgate and Gate of Heaven Chapel, respectively) are two closely linked associations, which have been important and influential in Finnish Spiritualism. They are linked to the Gate of Heaven Chapel, a Californian Spiritualist organisation founded by the USA-based Finnish couple, Seppo and Aulikki Plaami, in 1996. The Plaamis lived in Finland until they left for Luxembourg in the early 1990s and later moved to the USA. They had in 1984 established a holistic health and music therapy centre that was active until 1987. After emigrating, they have returned to Finland on numerous occasions, and have been instrumental in promoting Spiritualism in their former home country. Kaariporttiystävät started its activities in 2001. Around 200 Finns joined their church at this time and a Finnish section, the Kaariportti kappeli –yhdistys ry (Gate of Heaven Chapel –association) was registered in 2005. The associations have 200 Finnish members today (2014). Aulikki Plaami is nationally well-known for acting as a trance medium for a number of famous deceased artists. Her husband is known for receiving channelled music from the world of spirits (Gate of Heaven Chapel 2013: Little Handbook).

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Even more recently, two new spiritualist communities have been founded in Finland. The first is particularly influenced by the ideas of French spiritualist Allan Kardec (1804–1869, pen name of Hippolyte Léon Denizard Rivail), one of the major figures in the history of Spiritualism, who introduced the doctrine of reincarnation in Spiritualist milieus. The association Allan Kardecin opin ystävät ry (Friends of Allan Kardec’s Teachings) started its activities in 2010 (and was registered in 2013). Besides promoting Kardec’s ideas, the group is also involved in charity work (Religions in Finland 2014: Allan Kardecin opin ystävät ry). A few dozen individuals are estimated to participate in the association’s activities. As part of this recent interest in Kardec, five of his books have been published in Finnish since 2011. The second of these recent organisations is Casa de Dom Inacion ystävät ry (Friends of Casa de Dom Inacio), which was founded in 2010 and focuses on a form of Brazilian Spiritualism, associated with a healing centre in Brazil by the name of Casa de Dom Inacio and established by the healer and psychic surgeon João Teixeira de Faria (b. 1942). Besides organising Spiritualist séances, the Finnish association supports the activities of the centre in Brazil (Religions in Finland 2014: Casa de Dom Inacion ystävät ry). This group also has an estimated few dozen participants.

Spiritualism and Finnish Religiosity

As can be seen from the description above, Spiritualism as an organised religious alternative has relatively few adherents. Surveys nevertheless suggest that key ideas propagated in Spiritualist milieus are accepted by a far greater proportion of the Finnish population. In the Kirkkomonitor survey (conducted in 2007 by the Church Research Institute), people were asked about their opinion on concepts that are typical of New Age spirituality. Seven percent of the respondents agreed with the statement that it is possible to interact with the deceased. It is also a quite obvious that many people in the field with interests in the New Age milieu share Spiritualist ideas, even though they do not define themselves as Spiritualists or participate in Spiritualist séances. Finally, Finnish surveys (see Ketola 2007) suggest that alternative spirituality is not necessarily a form of coherent religious culture that is incompatible with traditional religion. Despite the fact that spokespersons for the Finnish Evangelical-Lutheran Church have been critical toward Spiritualism, many people who hold Spiritua­ lists opinions remain members of the Evangelical-Lutheran Church. Thus,

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while Spiritualism as a specific religious current attracts small numbers of people, many more Finns include ideas that originate with Spiritualism in their own world view. Pluralism goes both ways: at the same time as people outside the Spiritualist organisations can accept Spiritualist beliefs, Spiritualism itself is deeply influenced by Christian as well as New Age-related concepts. Spiritualists in Finland interpret the Christian heritage in different ways than in mainstream Christian Churches. As in many other esoteric movements influenced by Christianity, Jesus is mainly understood as a spiritual and moral teacher and a model. Belief in reincarnation is widely held among Finnish Spiritualists, often connected with the view that the doctrines of reincarnation and karma were part of the original Christian teachings, but that they were banned by the Council of Constantinople in 553. This loose affiliation between Spiritualism, Christianity, and other religious currents is aided by the fact that Spiritualists do not usually consider that Spiritualism itself is a religion or is restricted to any religious tradition. Instead, Spiritualism can be practised in different religious contexts. The emphasis is not on doctrine, but on individual spiritual progress and inner experience (Heino 1997: 355–356).

References

Aho, Jouko, Parapsykologit: Ulkopuolisen näkemys poikkeavan tieteen suomalaiseen historiaan, Helsinki: Suomen historiallinen seura, 1993. Harmainen, Antti, “Modernin mystikot. Teosofian ulottuvuudet Pekka Ervastin ja Eino Leinon maailmankuvissa 1902–1908”, MTh dissertation, University of Tampere, 2010. Heino, Harri, Mihin Suomi tänään uskoo, Helsinki: WSOY, 1997. Hjelt, M., “Jokaiseen palatsiinja jokaiseen majaan”, 2012, online article available at www. henkinenkehitys.fi/144. Ketola, Kimmo, “Spiritual Revolution in Finland? Evidence from Surveys and the Rates of Emergence of New Religious and Spiritual Organisations”, Nordic Journal of Religion and Society 1 (2007), 29–39. Mahlamäki, Tiina and Tomas Mansikka, “His Visions Have Captured My Thoughts: Emanuel Swedenborg in the Newspapers and National Literature in 19th Century Finland”, unpublished paper, 2013, available at ; the quotes that follow preserve the grammar and spelling of the English language found on that website), a non-partisan movement, ‘primarily engaged in exopolitical activism and not in exopolitical studies and ufology’. The organisation explicitly states that it ‘not necessarily shares views and foci with other organisations and individuals who are engaged in exopolitics (e.g., The Exopolitics World Network and Exopolitics Europe)’. The organisation’s mission is, among other things, to lobby the Danish government to ‘place UFO-studies on a university level on the state budget. I.e., research of the small percentage of UFO-sightings that are not easily explained. But also to finance studies in the social, political, economical,

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business, psychological, environmental, religious, humanitarian, and democratic aspects connected with the phenomenon. Existing and potential societal developments should also be investigated in order to create a knowledge base for passing laws in the Danish Folketing and other forums’. Fighting for the ‘declassification of government documents and “truth-amnesty” to government insiders who are prepared to testify under oath, but are constrained by security protocols’, Exopolitics Denmark wants this country to be ‘a front-runner by initiating a dialogue within the framework of the EU and the UN’. The image of this group is deliberately secular, and the website projects a modern management or business-oriented style in everything from the language it uses to its aesthetics. The interest generated by the group, however, remains modest as membership does not exceed thirty, according to the organisation’s website.

References

Bork, Erik, “Hurra – verden går under”, Interview with Knud Weiking in Berlingske Tidende, 21 May 1998. Also available at 2. Swedenborg, Emanuel, Om kloderne i vort solsystem som kaldes planeter, transl. Gudmund Boolsen. Copenhagen: Nykirkeligt Tidsskrift, 1978. Vuorela, Mikkel, six-part set of feature articles on the Orthon movement, published under six titles in Politiken from 20 to 26 December 2012. Wegner, Willy, Ufoer over Danmark, vol. 1, 1946–64. Træk af den danske ufo-bevægelses historie, København: Sphinx, 1989. ———. Ufoer over Danmark, vol. 2, 1965–1990. Træk af den danske ufo-bevægelses historie, København: Sphinx, 1990. Numerous articles and a collection of source material are available on the Danish sceptics’ (Skeptica) website: (specifically the link “UFOlore”).

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Chapter 79 UFO Movements in Finland

UFO Movements in Finland Jaakko Närvä

A Basic Typology of UFO Movements

Finnish ufologists, like their international counterparts, can be roughly divided into two main camps. Sociologist Joseph A. Blake, for example, makes a distinction between scientific ufology and paraufology (Blake 1979). One could also call the latter religious or spiritual ufology. Scientific ufologists hold that UFO phenomena should be studied in a strictly scientific manner and without any a priori claims that UFO sightings are evidence of aliens or of paranormal phenomena, or that they have any spiritual significance. Religious or spiritual ufologists can be subdivided, according to the main source of inspiration, as, e.g., esoteric or Christian. The former, who are part of the UFO contactee movement, favour explanations of the UFO phenomena which assume that bene­volent beings from space or from other dimensions have come to assist us in our quest for spiritual evolution. On the other hand they may also espouse more sinister theories, e.g., that humanity has been manipulated by alien intelligences in the course of history. The latter interpret UFO phenomena through a Christian worldview, either as positive signs of divine intervention or in negative or even demonic terms. In Finland all of these forms are represented, as well. Several ufological organisations present themselves as scientific groups, while others promote religious understandings. Given the topic of this volume as a whole, the emphasis of this chapter lies squarely on the religious interpretations. Most of these are inspired by Theosophical ideas or by eschatological scenarios of a New Age kind. There are far fewer Christian interpretations in the Finnish milieu, although some of these will also be briefly presented below.

An Overview of the Finnish UFO Milieu

No organised UFO religions in the strict sense had appeared in Finland at the time of writing (2014), although some unofficial discussion and meditation groups for UFO contactees and abductees had been formed. Despite the lack of organisational structures, a set of shared beliefs have spread widely

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within the Finnish ufological milieu. These typically resemble those of the international UFO contactee movement, and include various Theosophical, spiritualistic, and New Age currents, and Western interpretations of Indian religions. The UFO contactee movement was first established in the United States in the 1950s. At that time individuals with an essentially Theosophical background, such as George Adamski in the United States and George King in England, took an interest in the then recent concept of the flying saucer. They started to claim, often in Theosophically-coloured terms, that they were in contact with highly evolved extraterrestrials who travelled on board flying saucers. According to them, these extraterrestrials, who were back then usually referred to as Masters (and were seen as enlightened beings from space) had come to help the human race to achieve its next stage of spiritual evolution, or to evacuate the chosen ones onto spaceships or to other planets in case catastrophes should destroy Earth. Space beings, it was suggested, were especially concerned about the dangers of nuclear technology and nuclear war. Later, during the 1980s, a part of the UFO contactee movement began to adopt more sinister narratives of abduction by aliens, and conspiracy theories linked to these abductions were formed. In these UFO-based cosmologies god and the universe are understood as basically the same. God is understood as a kind of eternal and abstract electromagnetic wholeness, oneness or universal law, which is composed of light and can be described as having such personal characteristics as wisdom and a loving nature. It has created everything and all things are its manifestations. God, as the universe, includes a vast number of “vibrational” dimensions and worlds. God/universe manifests itself in the course of its spiritual evolution, which takes place over extremely long cosmic time spans. Furthermore, according to many Finnish UFO enthusiasts, the human race was at some point in the past created by extraterrestrials, beings who are also assumed to have had a great impact in the history of humanity by, e.g., having influenced religious teachings and practices. It is commonly held in the Finnish UFO community that humans are essentially spiritual beings, with a normally hidden physiology comprising “energies” that are particularly focused in the chakras. Humans are thought to evolve spiritually through a process of reincarnation guided by the law of karma and, as in many post-Theosophical movements as well as New Age thought, humanity is expected to move to a higher spiritual level in the relatively near future. It is emphasised in the Finnish UFO community that extraterrestrials are benevolent and guide us towards a new spiritual age, but it is also pointed out that there are all kinds of beings in the universe, not all of whom are good or spiritually highly developed. Since much of this cosmology differs markedly from Christian as well as standard scientific perspectives, the Finnish UFO community (like its

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international counterpart) is critical against Christianity and the sciences. The Christian Churches are said to be coercive organisations that suppress information about historical facts such as the creation of humans by aliens. Although the Finnish UFO milieu includes purportedly scientific ufological perspectives as well as a more general interest in UFO matters, including popular stories and descriptions of UFO experiences, the presence of religiously tinged interpretations in the Finnish UFO milieu is certainly strong. To show this I will next give a short historical view of the Finnish ufological milieu.

Scientific and Religious Ufology

A Finnish UFO milieu arose in the 1960s and 1970s, and these decades can therefore be seen as the formative period for Finnish ufology. An economist by the name of Joel Rehnström, who was later greatly inspired by the channelled text known as The Urantia Book, led the first Finnish UFO club which made an effort to study cases of purported UFO sightings. The club was founded in Porvoo in southern Finland in 1960. Margit Lilius (1899–1991), a former ballet dancer, had developed an interest in Theosophy and claimed to have established her first contact with an extraterrestrial in 1955 in Los Angeles. After this she was introduced to an extraterrestrial master from the Brotherhood of Venus (a concept that can be traced back to the works of Helena Blavatsky, the founder of the Theosophical Society). It was Lilius who introduced The Urantia Book in Finland after she moved back from the United States in the mid-1960s. She was also the author of the first UFO book written by a Finn, Ihminen ja avaruuden avautuminen (Man and the Opening of Space, 1967). Rehnström also founded a publishing company called Kustannus Oy Vimana (Vimana Publishing, Inc.) in 1962, which published the first UFO books in Finland, such as a Finnish translation of Desmond Leslie’s and George Adamski’s Flying Saucers Have Landed. Interplantistit ry (Interplanetary Registered Association), the first Finnish national UFO association, was founded on 21 November 1962 in the capital Helsinki. Arvi Merikallio, a Christian priest, was the first chairman of Inter­ planetistit ry, with Rehnström acting as secretary. Interplanetistit, later renamed Helsingin ufoyhdistys (UFO association of Helsinki), presented its official position on UFO s in the spring of 1963. It largely replicated the views of the UFO contactees, although formulated in more careful terms: according to the organisation, extraterrestrials may already have been in contact with some people and it is possible that they have a special message for humankind. In 1963 Interplantistit ry began publishing a magazine called Lentolautaslehti

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(The Flying Saucer Magazine) which in 1967 changed its name to Vimana. The name refers back to a Theosophical reinterpretation of a Sanskrit term as meaning “space ship”, presumably because such Theosophical concepts appeal to the core members of the association. The magazine became defunct in 1972. Merikallio left Interplanetistit already in 1965, because he felt that the beliefs of the other members were in contradiction with the Bible. A fundamental factor for his resignation was a dispute with Theosophically-oriented Lilius. Merikallio was convinced that UFO s were a part of God’s plan and that at the final judgement flying saucers would carry Christians to heaven. A large number of purported UFO sightings were reported over the Pudasjärvi area in north-central Finland during 1969 and 1970. These sightings inspired a lot of discussions not only in the Finnish UFO community but also among the population in general. Investigations into these sightings were led by a graduate engineer and esoteric ufologist by the name of Ahti Kariveri, one of the pioneers of Finnish ufology and a member of Oulun UFO-kerho (Oulu’s UFO Club). Karivieri is very well known in the Finnish UFO community, and has since the 1970s written and lectured extensively on topics such as ancient mysteries and extraterrestrials. He has argued, e.g., that the Egyptian pyramids were built by aliens. Arguably, Tapani Kuningas (1945–2009) is the most important figure in the development of an early Finnish UFO milieu. During the early 1970s he studied social sciences, but later abandoned his studies in order to do UFO research. In 1972 Kuningas became the editor-in-chief of a monthly UFO magazine, Ufoaika (The UFO Age). Two years later, the magazine’s name was changed to Ultra, and now began to cover a range of alternative worldviews and paranormal phenomena. By this time Kuningas had also written several informative and influential books on UFO topics, including several that deal specifically with Finnish cases. Generally speaking, these books take a science-inspired approach to the phenomena, but there are also discussions of contactee cases that consider them as potentially genuine encounters with aliens. In 1973, Tapani Kuningas and his wife Arja Kuningas founded two new UFO associations in the city of Tampere in southern Finland: Tampereen Ufo ry (Tampere UFO registered association) on 8 March and Suomen Ufotutkijat ry (Finnish UFO Research Association) on 29 April. Suomen Ufotutkijat quickly became the most important organisation for the development of Finnish ufology, and it continues to play a key role in the Finnish UFO milieu. In 1976, Tapani Kuningas founded another group in Tampere called Rajatiedon yhteistyöryhmä (The Cooperative Group for Borderline Knowledge). On 8 February of the same year, Kuningas also launched a publishing company called Kustannus Oy Rajatieto (Borderline Knowledge Publishing, Inc.), which

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soon became the publisher of Ultra. In the resort of Kreivilä, Kustannus Oy Rajatieto began arranging a summer event for alternative spirituality called Ultrapäivät (Ultra Days), which quickly became an annual tradition. In 1983 Rajatiedon yhteistyöryhmä started to arrange an annual fair called Hengen ja Tiedon messut (The Fair of Spirit and Knowledge) for alternative spirituality. In 1994 Suomen Ufotutkijat started to publish an annual book series entitled Uforaportti (UFO Report). These books include both scientifically-inspired and religious articles, including stories of contactees and abductees. Similar religious topics have also figured in the association’s member magazine, Yhteys (Communion). The reason for this eclectic approach is the fact that both approaches represent major trends in the Finnish ufological community, and since the religious interpretations of UFO phenomena are an integral part of the Finnish ufological landscape they should be treated with respect. The present Chairman of the organisation is the author of this chapter (Jaakko Närvä, b. 1973). The role of contactees and others who claim to have experienced UFO s has been significant in the Finnish UFO community ever since the formative period. For example, during the 1970s Helge Lindroos (1921–1981),who was a clairvoyant, a healer, and an inventor (and a masseur by profession) launched a career as an influential contactee. At present, Kalevi Riikonen (b. 1950) is one of the best-known UFO contactees in Finland. In 1993, Riikonen published a book entitled Universaalista opetusta kosmoksesta (Universal Teachings from the Cosmos) followed in 1996 by a follow-up volume divided into two parts, called Universaalista opetusta kosmoksesta II–III (Universal Teachings from the Cosmos II–III), with a total of about 1,200 pages. These books contain revealed messages concerning the history and structure of the universe; the history, spiritual state, and future of our planet; and the spiritual structure and development of humankind. Today Kalevi Riikonen and his wife Eija Riikonen run a UFO-themed business, Tähtitieto (Star Knowledge), which arranges events such as Kosmiset Parapäivät (Cosmic Para-days), with popular lecturers who draw a good deal of people interested in UFO s and alternative spirituality. Yet another influential figure in the Finnish UFO milieu from the 1970s is architect Tapani Koivula (b. 1946). In his book Ufojen kosminen viesti (The Cosmic Message of the UFO s, 1988), he presented the thesis that a new era is imminent, and gave this message a ufological slant by giving UFO contacts, from classic cases to stories of Finnish contactees, a key role in guiding humanity to new, higher level of consciousness. He developed his views further in a later book entitled Viestejä (Messages, 1996). For several years during the first decade of the twenty-first century, Koivula served as the Chairman of Suomen Ufotutkijat ry. Through the years he has continued to write prolifically for such

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publications as Uforaportti and Ultra. His most recent book at the time of writing is Kosminen kosketus (Cosmic Touch, 2013). This book deals mainly with Finnish ufological history, stresses the importance of love for one’s neighbours as we are approaching a new spiritual age, and describes the role of aliens in this millenarian scenario. In recent years Koivula has also led UFO-related sessions during Hengen ja Tiedon messut, Ultrapäivät and also a few years ago in Suomen Ufotutkijat’s autumn seminars (which have been held in September of almost every year since 1994). It is noteworthy that scientifically-oriented ufologists have since the beginning often taken part in the same gatherings as religious ufologists and UFO contactees. For example, in Suomen Ufotutkijat’s autumn seminars individuals interested in UFO s meet to share their different views. Presentations in the seminar vary from discussing theories concerning the scientific methodology that ufology should adopt, to relating narratives of personal UFO contact accounts. The borders between scientifically-inspired and religious ufology are thus not always clear-cut.

Ancient Astronaut Theories

Swiss hotel manager Erich von Däniken’s ideas regarding the role of ancient astronauts in human history inspired the Finnish UFO community and the larger population especially at the end of the 1960s and during the 1970s. Von Däniken’s books were at that time translated into Finnish. The first one, Vieraita avaruudesta (orig. Erinnerungen an die Zukunft; translated into English as Chariots of the Gods?), was published in Finnish translation in 1968. Although Däniken’s ancient astronaut theories constitute a somewhat different set of claims than ufology in the strict sense, by not suggesting that aliens are at present in touch with humans, ancient astronaut speculations interest many ufologists. Ancient astronaut authors typically claim that there in ancient religious texts including the Bible as well as in archaeological findings is proof, or at least suggestive hints, that aliens visited Earth in ancient times. Tom Pellert’s (a pseudonym) book entitled Raamatun arvoitus ja Halleyn komeetta (The Enigma of the Bible and Halley’s Comet, 1982) was the first Finnish book to develop a detailed ancient astronaut hypothesis. It is also worth mentioning Seppo Heinola (b. 1944), an actor by training and a charismatic lecturer, who since 1995 has been an active promoter in Finland of the so-called Bible code theory, associated with the work of American journalist and author Michael Drosnin. Heinola explains that the Bible code is a set of messages encrypted in the Hebrew Bible and in the Greek New Testament,

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and claims that the existence of these messages has been proven by computer-assisted statistical analysis. According to Heinola, these messages, when decoded, reveal a chronology of events, some of which have already taken place. The messages purportedly reveal the existence of UFO s and support an occult interpretation of both the Bible and the history of Christianity. In particular, the hidden messages show that humans were not created by a deity, but by a civilisation from outer space, and that this civilisation interacted with the ancient Israelites. Although ancient astronaut theories are clothed in a scientific language and refer to fields such as astronomy, space travel, genetics, and archaeology, their content – especially in von Däniken’s books – comes across as a technologyoriented version of occult thought in general and Theosophy specifically. Most notably, in his book Züruck zu den Sternen (Gods from Outer Space) von Däniken refers to the creation myth of the alleged Book of Dzyan on which Blavatsky’s Secret Doctrine was also said to be based. He also relies on Blavatsky’s views in order to explain the meanings of specific words of the myth. Further­ more, in his book Erscheinungen (Miracles of the Gods) von Däniken states that everything is composed of spirit and refers to “Theosophical” and “esoteric” religions to support his argument. He points out that consciousness is a form of energy and that all conscious beings search for the primeval spirit without realising that they are part and parcel of that spirit. Von Däniken also states that humanity develops via paranormal means and religious revelations, and stresses that in order to develop we should try to establish contact with the beings that created us. He speaks of spiritual healing, precognition, astral ­bodies, mediumism, materialisations, levitation, spirit worlds, and other concepts common in occult and New Age milieus. In addition, Christopher Partridge (2003) notes that von Däniken’s conception of the history of humanity and of religions resembles Leslie’s and Adamski’s views.

Christian Ufology

Besides Theosophically-inspired theories regarding UFO s, Christian elements are also invoked in understanding the phenomenon. The views of Arvi Merikallio have already been briefly mentioned above. Another example is Juho Tenhiälä, a pastor and a longstanding representative of the Finnish Centre Party, who also served as a Minister for Social Affairs, who in 1972 published a book entitled Usko ja ufot (Faith and UFO s). It was inspired by the ancient astronaut theory and reflected on the ufological significance of Kalevala, the Finnish national epic, claiming that this work refers to UFO s. Yet another is

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Voitto Viro, former vicar of Lauttasaari (in Helsinki), who in the early 1970s stated that many biblical events could be interpreted ufologically and suggested that Jesus might have been an alien. The authors referred to above have a positive view of UFO s. In general, however, Christian interpretations of UFO phenomena in Finland tend to be negative. Thus, during the 1960s and the 1970s an influential preacher by the name of Leo Meller studied the subject and came to the conclusion that UFO phenomena are satanic manifestations, a thesis which he argued in his book Ufot ja maailmanloppu (UFOs and the End of the World, 1973). More recently, Christian preacher Teijo-Kalevi Lusa has favoured the same view in his books Maailmanloppu 2008? (The End of the World in 2008), published in 2001, and Avaruuden terroristit: Taivaan ilmiöt profetian valossa (Terrorists from the Space: Sky Phenomena in the Light of the Prophecy), published in 2005.

Eschatological Views in the Finnish Ufological Milieu

Finally, besides Theosophical and Christian conceptions of the nature and role of UFO s, several influential people in the UFO milieu offer eschatological interpretations that draw on more eclectic sources. This chapter will conclude with a brief look at three individuals who have presented influential UFO theories of this kind. Artist Martin Keitel became a significant figure during the 1990s as a crop circle investigator. Keitel insists that humanity is at the dawn of a spiritual awakening. He is convinced that alien forces are guiding humanity towards this new harmonious era and expects aliens to reveal themselves at some point. Keitel has said that one means used by the extraterrestrials to elevate the vibrational level of humanity is to create crop circles which balance the Earth’s energetic body through its energetic ley-lines. According to Keitel, crop circles also sensitise and open up the minds of people to a higher spiritual understanding. He has suggested that meditating in a crop circle can be a spiritually inspiring experience. Even man-made crop circles, according to Keitel, act as gates for ushering in this new level of human consciousness. Juhan af Grann (b. 1944) is a flamboyant film producer and director with an interest in ufological issues. He has not been involved in the activities of any Finnish UFO associations, but has introduced UFO theories current abroad to a Finnish audience through his documentary work. Af Grann’s programme Vieraita taivaalta (Visitors from Space) was shown on Finnish television in the spring of 1992 and his UFO series Ufot ja paranormaalit ilmiöt (UFOs and Paranormal Phenomena) in the spring of 1995. Af Grann’s Uusi ilmestyskirja

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– ihmiskunnan viimeinen exodus (The New Apocalypse – Mankind’s Last Exodus) was aired in 1998, again in the spring, followed by the rerun of Ufot ja paranormaalit ilmiöt. Finally, in the spring of 2002 Finnish audiences could watch af Grann’s two-part television programme Tunkeilijat (Intruders). In these documentaries af Grann presents a number of well-known ufologists, witnesses of purported UFO sightings, and people who speak of coming spiritual, material and ecological catastrophes and wars, events that were purportedly predicted by Nostradamus but could now be explained in terms of alien civilisations. The message is that aliens may have manipulated humanity throughout history via religions, churches, and various ideologies. It is also suggested that a secret world government could be involved with this effort. The documentaries allege that there are also predictions about a coming Messiah, but what is clear according to the documentaries is that humankind is already living in apocalyptic times and that Armageddon will come. This, however, should not prevent us from trying to reach out to other dimensions, and from joining the intergalactic community in order solve our problems. Finally, medical doctor Rauni-Leena Luukanen-Kilde (1939-2015) was one of the key figures of the Finnish UFO milieu. Luukanen-Kilde’s career as a successful UFO lecturer started in the early 1990s with the publication of several books. At the time she had already become a significant figure in the Finnish parapsychological milieu, which helped her to achieve prominence as a spokesperson for ufological theories. Her first book on UFO-related topics was Tähtien lähettiläs (Envoy of the Stars, 1992). This was followed by Kuka hän on? (Who is S/He?, 1993) and Universumin lapsi (The Child of the Universe, 1995). In 1996 Luukanen-Kilde arranged an international UFO conference, which was held in Hanasaari, Espoo near Helsinki. In 2007 she published the book Salatut maailmamme (Our Secret Worlds). In her books Luukanen-Kilde develops a vision of a coming new age couched in UFO-related terms. The arrival of this new spiritual age is presented as ultimately a matter of free will and our own choice. Nonetheless, by the end of the 1990s Luukanen-Kilde began to express increasing worries about the world’s alleged secret government trying to radically reduce the world’s population and to exploit the remaining people for their own purposes. Luukanen-Kilde borrowed heavily from the international UFO milieu and especially from forms of UFO belief that have emerged in the USA. By taking part in UFO conferences abroad and meeting prominent ufologists, she was able to contribute to the adaptation of international ufological trends to the Finnish UFO movement. In this respect, Luukanen-Kilde was typical for the Finnish UFO milieu in general, which consists of local adaptations and local social settings for ideas that have their origins in a global UFO-interested milieu.

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References

Blake, Joseph, “The Intellectual Development and Social Context of the Study of Unidentified Flying Objects”, in: Roy Wallis (ed.), On the Margins of Science: The Social Construction of Rejected Knowledge, Staffordshire: University of Keele, 1979, 315–337. Grann, Juhan af (accessed 23 June 2014). Hänninen, Kirsi, Yliluonnollisen ilmeneminen ufokontaktikerronnassa, Turku: Turku University, MA thesis, 2002. Heinola, Seppo, Ufot ja raamattukoodi. Raamatun salakielten tarkastelua esoteerisen perinteen valossa, N.p.: Author’s edition, 1998. Kananen, Marko, Kun jumalat olivat humanoideja – Ancient astronaut -teorioiden tulo Suomeen, Tampere: Tampere University, MA thesis, 1998. Keitel, Martin (accessed 23 June 2014) . Koivula, Tapani, Kosminen kosketus, Helsinki: UFO-Finland, 2013. ——— . (ed.), Uforaportti 13. Ufotutkimuksen vuosikirja 2006, Tampere: Suomen Ufotutkijat ry., 2006. Luukanen-Kilde, Rauni-Leena, Salatut maailmamme, Son: Star Sister Inter­national, 2007. Närvä, Jaakko, “The Finnish UFO tradition, 1947–94”, in: Christopher Partridge (ed.), UFO Religions, London & New York: Routledge, 2003, 194–212. ——— . Ufo­lo­gia ja ufo­ko­ke­muk­set uskon­nol­li­sina ilmiöinä: Teo­reet­ti­nen tut­ki­mus, Helsinki: Helsinki University, Uskon­to­tiede – Reli­gions­ve­tens­kap – Com­pa­ra­tive Reli­ gion 12, Doctoral thesis, 2008. Partridge, Christopher, “Understanding UFO Religions and Abduction Spiritualities”, in: Christopher Partridge (ed.), UFO Religions, London & New York: Routledge, 2003, 3–42. Riikonen, Kalevi (accessed 26 June 2014).

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Chapter 80 UFO Movements in Norway

UFO Movements in Norway Jan Bertil Heilund

Introduction

Modern UFO beliefs followed in the wake of Kenneth Arnold’s observation of “flying saucers” in 1947, the Roswell case a couple of months later, and subsequent developments that saw George Adamski (1891–1965) and others take on the role of contactees with the “space brothers” in the 1950s. UFO groups were formed, not only in the USA, but in most Western countries. This was the case also in Norway, which saw the formation of some informal groups in the 1950s, the most prominent of which was established in the city of Bergen. Institu­ tionalisation did not take place until 1967 when Finn Kalvik (1922–2001) and Nils Sælensminde (1922–2004) founded the association Bergen UFO-forening (Bergen UFO Association). Sælensminde’s close friend, the founder of Danish SUFOI (Scandinavian UFO Information) Major H.C. Petersen, was also a friend of George Adamski. Bergen UFO-forening was thus regularly updated on what happened on the American UFO scene. The Theosophically-inspired depiction of the space brothers and Adamski’s role as a messenger put his credibility into doubt among the more sceptically oriented in the early 1970s, and when Sælens­­minde found diminishing support for his belief in Adamski’s narratives, he left the group. In 1973 most of the local Norwegian UFO-groups were united in Norsk UFO Center (NUFOC), an organisation that saw as its primary task to collect information on Norwegian UFO observations. In 1979 internal controversies led to a schism within NUFOC, and a new organisation, UFO-Norway, was founded on the initiative of Knut Aasheim (b. 1932). Whereas Aasheim gradually developed a more distinctly spiritual and occult understanding of the UFO s, NUFOC became a sceptics’ organisation and a local branch of CSICOP (Centre of Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal; the organisation in 2006 changed its name into Committee for Skeptical Inquiry). In 1983 Project Hessdalen was organised as a joint effort by UFO-Norway and UFO-Sweden to investigate a recurrent atmospheric phenomenon in a valley 30 kilometres north of the town of Røros. Early reports on the phenomenon described mysterious lights in different colours and shapes moving around at different speeds and heights. These reports naturally triggered the interest of

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UFO enthusiasts. Key figures in the formative phase of Project Hessdalen were electronic engineer and lecturer at Østfold University College Erling Strand (b.1955) and Knut Aasheim. At the time of writing, Strand remains the leader of the project. Internationally acclaimed scientists and representatives of several scientific organisations have visited the valley, including Allan J. Hynek and several NASA scientists. The other institutionalised UFO organisation in Norway, NETI (Norwegian Organisation for the study of Extraterrestrial Intelligences), was founded in 1997. The founding of this group was inspired by American leader of CSETI (Center for the Study of Extraterrestrial Intelligence) Steven Greer’s appeal during a UFO conference in Oslo to establish work groups aiming to promote ‘a serious, open and democratic handling of the UFO case’. CSETI is primarily associated with the Disclosure Project, an effort to have military and scientific authorities disclose UFO evidence and alien technology supposedly covered up by various governments. The spiritually oriented Greer tried in this way to combine the authority of scientific rationality with popular belief in an invisible, spiritual dimension of life. This strategy, a core characteristic of many UFO communities since the early 1950s, and which has resulted in fusions and conflicts, also characterises the development of the Norwegian UFO milieu.

The Norwegian UFO Organisations and their Theorising on the “UFO Phenomenon”

UFO-Norway Although UFO-Norway claims to be founded on and seeks support in established science, stories, myths, and ideas known from the international UFO milieu influence the imagery and the theories found within the organisation. Frequent references to Roswell and von Däniken, and speculations on ESP phenomena and the existence of spirit worlds in order to explain UFO phenomena, are symptomatic of an “alternative” worldview, rather than of a rationalist and scientific perspective, despite of the fact that the organisation more than thirty years ago distanced itself from Adamski and his contactee narratives. The organisation has on several occasions ridiculed Finnish ufologist Rauni-Leena Luukanen for purportedly being a spiritualist, and it has labelled Steven Greer an esoteric mystic, but cooperation with the more mystically inclined NETI nonetheless shows how fluid borders can be between the various branches of ufology. Greer, for example, who was one of the main speakers at a UFO conference arranged jointly by UFO-Norway and NETI in the

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year 2000, was after his appearance there recognised as an important and credible UFO researcher even by UFO-Norway “sceptics”. While insisting on a scientific approach UFO-Norway has, contrary to its Scandinavian sister organisations (in particular Danish SUFOI which today resembles a sceptic’s organisation), thus been open to supernatural explanations of reports and narratives of mysterious sightings. Project Hessdalen In order to gain scientific support for the existence of UFO s, UFO-Norway has in particular referred to the events at Hessdalen. Stories of mysterious atmospheric phenomena reaching back over a hundred years, culminating in the early 1980s with almost daily observations of lights, objects, and even a few reports of alien beings, led to much ridicule in Norwegian media, but several photos of the phenomena eventually convinced some scientists to investigate things more closely. In 2001 scientists from Instituto di Radioastronomia di Bologna, supported by the Italian National Council of Research (CNR), led by astrophysicist Massimo Teodorani, came to Norway in order to investigate the Hessdalen phenomena. In the initial phase of their research Teodorani vigorously attempted to distance himself from any associations with ufology and claimed that standard scientific methods would eventually solve the mysteries of Hessdalen. Nonetheless, their instruments soon registered an atmospheric high energy phenomenon that Teodorani came to describe as signs of a seemingly autonomous and conscious behaviour. The scientists were puzzled by observations of elliptic, triangular cigar-shaped objects, changing shape, speed, and colour in seconds, and flying high and low in the valley. In 2001 Teodorani hypothesised that these observations originated from some kind of plasma phenomenon. This meant, he suggested, the possible discovery of a revolutionary new source of non-polluting energy. Teodorani’s theory may be scientifically unorthodox, but is nonetheless distinctly downto-earth compared to the speculations of his colleague, Erling Strand, who thinks it plausible that the phenomenon may be due to visitors from outer space. Relying on the authority of scientists like Einstein, Alain Aspect, and the more controversial Rupert Sheldrake, Strand argues for the possible existence in Hessdalen of materialisations and dematerialisations of travellers from other worlds transmitted through the cosmos by mind waves. These suggestions combine core elements of ufology with references to theories of relativity, particle physics, and information field theories, thus attempting to furnish the belief in UFO s as extraterrestrial vessels with scientific legitimacy. In his more recent writings, Teodorani speculates that the observations at Hessdalen may be evidence of probes from extraterrestrial civilisations. This

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new belief suggests a form of conversion resulting from his personal experiences in Hessdalen. Teodorani is today leader of the Italian branch of SETV (Search for Extraterrestrial Visitation) – an organisation working to provide proof for the presence of probes, proxies, and craft of extraterrestrial origin. According to SETV researchers, Hessdalen has provided the best indications of such visits. This belief was expressed by the mystically inclined Knut Aasheim already twenty years ago, and was later confirmed, he claims, by telepathic information from the aliens. Paradoxically, since mainstream scientists have shown interest in the Hessdalen phenomena, scientific research so far has contributed more to nourishing occult speculations than to solving the mystery. Scientific and public interest initiated the foundation of a UFO centre in Holtålen county in the summer of 2002, and both public and private investors thought that UFO tourism had a great potential. Although this initiative flopped, Hessdalen every year draws many UFO enthusiasts hoping to have a genuine UFO experience. Individuals from Norwegian esoteric milieus frequently visit the valley, and NETI arranges group excursions every year. For these individuals Hessdalen may be regarded as a place of pilgrimage and a site where hidden mysteries can be experienced. By constituting one of the unsolved riddles of our time the Hessdalen phenomena have taken on existential significance for seekers of the unknown. During the autumn of 2008, headlines in Norwegian media proclaimed that ‘The mystery in Hessdalen is solved’. Assistant professor Bjørn Gitle Hauge from Østfold University College stated that the Hessdalen light was due to chemical processes involving the rare metal scandium along with oxygen and nitrogen. Hauge (like his colleague Teodorani) suggested that the phenomenon’s electromagnetic field of high energy might be a future source of unlimited pollution-free energy. The lights, says Hauge, are like miniature stars, and the processes behind the phenomenon resemble pulsars in the universe. Core elements of UFO lore seem to co-exist with such findings. Both early theories of UFO s that travel through space by non-polluting modes of propulsion, the concept of free energy, and later speculation regarding stardust and pulsar energies find some resonance in the scientists’ new theories. NETI For members of NETI the mysterious Hessdalen phenomena prove what they already claim to know. Most members can tell of personal UFO experiences, ranging from light- and atmospheric phenomena to strange incidents, sometimes involving meetings with mysterious beings. Like local authority Morten Eriksen and the leader of NETI, Torgeir S. Hansen, several members claim that

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their initial UFO experiences were followed by both physical and spiritual contacts with extraterrestrials. In NETI New Age concerns regarding wholeness, energies, and self-devel­ opment are combined with ideas associated with the belief in UFO s and extraterrestrial presence. Conspiracy theories also flourish in this milieu, and are referred to in order to explain the lack of hard UFO evidence. Members of NETI are influenced by international literature that connects UFO s to spiritual concerns, but there are also Norwegian titles on such topics, some of which are frequently described by UFO believers as particularly important sources of knowledge and as “catalysts” for their own spiritual awakening. Among these books one can mention Karen-Sofie Thorstensen Alpha Centauriforbindelsen (The Alpha Centauri Connection, 1994), Jannicke Jarlum Du er jeg (You are Me, 1999), Knut Aasheim Stjernefolket blant oss – De frivillige og deres Misjon (The Star People Amongst us – The Volunteers and their Mission, 1995), Rune Øverby En ny tidsalders fødsel (The Birth of a New Age, 1998), Jordens Fjernhistorie i et Nytt Lys (A New Light on the Remote History of Earth, 2000) and Tore Alfstad En Alternativ Kosmologi 2000 (An Alternative Cosmology, 2000). These books all reflect elements of well-known mystical, spiritual, and esoteric ideas, and incorporate the authors’ own personal experiences. Thorstensen states that her book is ‘a document of love from a higher dimension, telepathically received from our brothers and sisters in space’ (Thorstensen 1994). She emphasises, like many other authors in this genre, the importance of positive transformations through the development of love and thought energies. Jannicke Jarlum, a Norwegian rock singer who was particularly popular in the late 1970s, gained new national fame when she in 1993 once more stepped forth on the media scene, to tell of her close encounter with alien beings. She finally came to understand her experience by reading Finnish ufologist Rauni-Leena Luukanen (who is presented more fully in the chapter on UFO move­ments in Finland). Realising the meaning of her experience, she began to receive messages from extraterrestrials and became a channel for the being Betroz, whom she describes as ‘an existence on the sixth level’. Co-founder of UFO-Norway and Project Hessdalen, Knut Aasheim, originally inspired by the 1950s contactees, after twenty years as an ufologist in 1985 claimed contact with extraterrestrial beings. Based on these contacts he published the aforementioned book in which he primarily propagates the idea of the existence of the “star people”, an idea that American author Brad Steiger popularised in Star People (1981).

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Electronic engineers Øverby and Alfstad, UFO researchers for thirty years, describe in detail past and present intergalactic space travels and extraterrestrial technology. Claiming both physical and telepathic contacts with various extraterrestrial civilisations, they aim to ‘prepare searching souls for the energy lift that Earth now enters’ through informing us of ‘the cosmology and thinking common in other galactic civilisations’. Expressions such as levels of existence, monads, dimensions, etheric forces, astral bodies, cosmic masters, and intelligences are part of a vocabulary in which Theosophical terms coexist with concepts from quantum physics that allegedly explain various mysterious phenomena, such as teleportation and telepathic communication. Futuristic technologies found in science fiction movies like Star Trek, Alien, The Matrix, and Star Wars are depicted as products of (a future) science. Like these movies, books by Aasheim, Øverby, and Alfstad blend traditional codes and cultural expressions such as the cross, resurrection, sacrificial death, and salvation with elements from Eastern religious literature, from Western esotericism, and from local traditions such as the Norse mythic epos Völuspá. This local bricolage also incorporates Norwegian geography and sacred places, such as Hessdalen and the well-known medieval church Nidarosdomen, in a conceptual web that also includes technological and scientific terms like electrons, positrons, gravitons, amplitude modulations, transmitter substances, transport channels, and so forth. This amalgamation of elements from physics and religion may be seen as a (post-modern) attempt to bring back together what science once divided.

The Norwegian Internet Scene and Communications with Ashtar

The synthesis of science, technology, and spirituality that we have seen evidence of in the previous section, has also been the basis for establishing organised religious systems, i.e., UFO religions. While these have remained a marginal phenomenon, the UFO myth has spread on a larger scale and on a grassroots level. Especially within “alternative” and spiritual milieus it has developed into a non-institutionalised form of folk religiosity that comprises a variety of belief systems and traditions. Today, this vernacular religiosity has the Internet as its most important medium for the exchange of theories and ideas. The Norwegian UFO-related esoteric Internet scene is dominated by NETI members. Alfstad (Galactic Server) and Øverby (Forum Polaris) run two of the most comprehensive web sites, where ideas expressed in their books are illustrated with pictures and paintings of divine cosmic beings, drawings explaining extraterrestrial technology, and even sound samples of a variety of space

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languages. This material, claims “walk-in” Alfstad, has been received directly from “the space people” by means of a regenerative receiver utilising crystal technology connected to a TV monitor. Beside directly UFO-related content, their websites include a variety of spiritual, esoteric, and New Age-related material, dealing with themes such as healing, crystals, energies, Mayan prophecies, astro-archaeology, and the rise and fall of Atlantis. Among the UFO-related topics, the culture and cosmology of other planets and in particular The Ashtar Command hold a prominent place. Ashtar, originally introduced into UFO mythology by 1950s contactee George van Tassel, has in recent years become an increasingly shared reference in UFO-related milieus (Denzler 2001; Helland 2003). The Ashtar Command Com­ munications (ACC), an international on-line communication forum for the exchange of information on Ashtar, has a Norwegian edition administered by Bjørn Intelhus or Shekiah Ray-El, a name representing his higher self. The Norwegian website (with around 10,000 visits each year) – which is approved by “The Ashtar Command Official Web Ring” which in turn is part of “The Lightworkers’ Webring” – was created in order to promote ‘a positive attitude towards ascension and holistic healing with a focus on spiritual light work’. Seeking to communicate a unified worldview, the ACC has since 1990 worked to control the growing channelled material (Ashtar Command World Site). Despite their efforts to construct an orthodoxy by reserving sole access to Ashtar for themselves, Norwegian channeler Siv Akre claims to have been independently con­tacted by the commander of the star ship “Northern Star” positioned above Norway and told that she is chosen to be one of the command’s main contacts on Earth. Johan Lein, another Norwegian contactee, has on several occasions told of his experiences with the Ashtar Command on Norwegian television and in magazines. Like scientist Strand, he thinks extraterrestrials materialise and dematerialise through an act of will, something that mankind will need to master in order to ascend to higher dimensions. However, Lein’s description of the Ashtar Command as a galactic military and spiritual elite has been met with scepticism by members of NETI. They have expressed reluctance to submit to an external authority and to accept a hierarchically based epistemology, and insist in accordance with New Age egalitarian principles on their own ability and right to find “the truth for themselves”. Contactee and spiritual guide Morten Eriksen has tried to rationalise this ambiguity. Insisting on the equality of every individual, he nonetheless argues that some people, like himself and Lein, should be regarded as “lightworkers” specifically chosen by the extraterrestrials.

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Norwegian Bricolage and the Naturalisation of International Ideas

In the early 1930s Guy Ballard, founder of the I AM movement, claimed contacts with the ascended master St. Germain and with spiritually and tech­nologically highly developed Venusians at Mt. Shasta in California. Ballard’s efforts linked Theosophical ideas to a particular site in northern California, and succeeded in giving the mountain a prominent place in modern occult mythology as one of the most important grid points of energy on Earth, a portal to another dimension. Among some Norwegian UFO enthusiasts Hessdalen is regarded as an area of similar importance. Tore Alfstad and Rune Øverby believe that the Norwegian valley is the main centre for all extraterrestrial activities on Earth because we here find ‘the termination point of an intergalactic highway’ (UFO-nytt 4–2001). The Hessdalen phenomena are explained in terms of vessels entering and leaving this highway. Due to this cosmic role, Johan Lein suggests, the Ashtar Command has informed him of the importance of focusing international attention on Norway, which is to have a leading position in the important changes to come. Øverby believes that Norway and Hessdalen will play a major role in the coming transformation of Earth, and that Norway is ‘particularly chosen in this mission in which mankind is to be taken to higher dimensions’ (Øverby 1998). According to Knut Aasheim, Norway’s role in the end drama will be crucial, as it is the place where the battle against the negative cosmic forces will be fought. He finds support for this belief in the Danish Universal Link group, also known as the Orthon group (see the chapter on UFO movements in Denmark), initiated by Børge Jensen and Knud Weiking, both former members of Danish SUFOI. Based on messages that they received from the space being Orthon, an apocalyptic Danish movement emerged that built an air-raid shelter in 1967 at the town of Borup on Sealand. Amongst their many statements was that ‘Scandi­navia is the new heart chakra on Earth’. This, according to Aasheim, confirms not only the chosen role of his country, but also his belief that the majority of the star people are now being born in the North, ‘volunteers in their earthly bodies’, many of whom Aasheim claims to have met himself (Aasheim 1995). They have a mission, says Aasheim, to bring humanity safely into a higher dimension. We also, he suggests, depend on the star people in the battle against the negative counter-forces (Aasheim 1995). Danish channeller Marina Munk, a frequent speaker in Danish Theosophical organisations and the author of several books on earthly and cosmic transformations, has likewise been informed that ‘Shamballa no longer lies in the Gobi desert, but has been moved to Scandinavia’, and that ‘The people of the North are spiritually far more mature than their fellow human beings on Earth’ (Aasheim 1995).

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Accordingly, Lein has been informed that the Holy Grail now lies underneath the Norwegian medieval cathedral Nidarosdomen. As far back as 1973, Akatu, a spokesman for the Ashtar Command, through channeller Grete Ahlberg (1901– 1993) revealed the central role to be played by Norway: ‘Norway, belonging to the Scandinavian brotherhood, will play a major role in the building of the new age’ (Aasheim 1995). The Ashtar Command has likewise informed Folke Strømholm that ‘Scandinavia is a special area where spiritual development will have a particular focus’ (Øverby 1998). This fact, claims Aasheim, is confirmed by the great number of ‘spiritually mature people now being incarnated in the North’. Rune Øverby thinks that we in these incarnations find ‘great souls that will achieve great things in the years to come’. ‘The light is now coming from the North’, says Øverby, who stresses that ‘believing that everything spiritually important comes from distant places, and especially from the USA, is the result of petty thinking and of an inferiority complex’ (Øverby 1998).

Final Comments

In their arguments for seeing Norway as a unique and chosen country, local bricoleurs have, as we have seen, referred to statements from several Scandi­ na­vian spokespersons within the spiritually oriented UFO milieu. These state­­ments are, they feel, confirmed by the phenomena in Hessdalen, but they also draw on Norse mythology, claiming that Norse descriptions of ‘gods, half gods, giants, dragons, and witchcraft’ are by no means merely the traces of an ancient religion, but are based on facts that point at the existence of an epoch in the Norwegian past, when the mastery of advanced magic and technology was in no way inferior to that of the ancient cultures of Egypt and the Maya and Inca cultures in Latin America (UFO-nytt 2–99). Various UFO believers have thus created a connection between a mythic past and contemporary Norway, giving the country an extraordinary significance in both a global and cosmic context. While the Norwegian UFO milieu reflects internationally widespread ideas and theories, i.e., the global UFO myth, local spokespersons simultaneously add a nationalistic twist to this myth by pointing to the special significance of Norway and of its inhabitants as a chosen people.

References

Aasheim, Knut, Stjernefolket blant oss. De frivillige og deres misjon, n.p.: INCA, 1995. Alfstad, Tore, En alternativ kosmologi, Oslo: Polaris forlag, 2000.

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Heilund, Jan Bertil, Spenninger, syntese og spiritualitet i norsk UFO-bevegelse, særlig eksemplifisert i organisasjonen NETIs forestillingsunivers, PhD. dissertation, University of Bergen, 2005. ——— . “Konspiratører fra det ytre rom. Konspirasjonsteorier i norske ufo-miljøer”, in: Arnfinn Pettersen and Terje Emberland (eds.), Konspiranoia, Oslo: Humanist forlag, 2003, 262–294. Jarlum, Gry Jannicke, Du er jeg, Oslo: Grøndahl og Dreyer, 1994. Øverby, Rune, En ny tidsalders fødsel, Oslo: Polaris Forlag, 1998. ——— . Jordens fjernhistorie i et Nytt Lys, Oslo: Polaris Forlag, 2000. Strand, Erling, “Project Hessdalen – Main Technical Report”, 1984 . ——— . “Project Hessdalen – April 2002”, 2002 . Strømholm, Folke, “Jorden blir aldri den samme”, in: Rune Øverby (ed.), En ny tidsalders fødsel, Oslo: Polaris Forlag, 1998, 60–81. Teodorani, Massimo, “The Physical Study of Atmospheric Luminous Anomalies and the SETV Hypothesis”, Paper presented at World Symposium on Space Exploration and Life in Cosmos on the theme: EuroSETI: Extraterrestrial Intelligences from SETI to SETV, March 2002 . ——— . “A Physical Study of the Hessdalen Anomaly and the SETV Hypothesis”, Paper presented at the first Norwegian UFO-Center workshop, Holtalen, Norway, 2002. ——— . “Physical Data Acquisition and Analysis of Possible Flying Extra-terrestrial Probes by using Opto-Electronic Devices”, Extraterrestrial Physics Review, Vol. 1, No. 3 (2001), 32–37. Thorstensen, Karen-Sofie, Alpha Centauriforbindelsen, Oslo: Polaris Forlag, 1997. ——— . Kjærlighetens Budbringere, Oslo: Polaris Forlag, 1999. ——— . Kontakt med andre virkeligheter, Oslo: Polaris Forlag, 2005. UFO-nytt (magazine published 1998–2003). UFO (magazine published 1995–2003)

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Chapter 81 UFO Movements in Sweden

UFO Movements in Sweden Jonathan Peste

Introduction

The study of and belief in UFO s in Sweden to a large extent reflect the development of UFO-based beliefs in the rest of the Western world. Sweden has its own share of individuals and groups that are convinced of the existence of alien life and of extraterrestrial visits to Earth. Sweden has also had individuals claiming personal first-hand experiences of alien visits and even alien abductions. A considerable amount of books on the subject of UFO s, alien life, and alien technology, including ideas of paranormal phenomena connected to UFO s, have been published in Swedish. Three small but important Swedish publishers of UFO-related literature are Zindermans förlag, Parthenon, and Regn­bågs­förlaget. There are Swedish UFO observation groups as well as individual authors writing about UFO s and extraterrestrial life. Outside the southern Swedish town of Ängelholm there is a site where the contactee Gösta Carlsson in 1972 built a monument representing an extraterrestrial vessel, and where he has made cement casts of the traces in the ground that he claims were made when the spacecraft landed. This is a popular site to visit for UFO enthusiasts. Riksorganisationen UFO-Sverige is the largest natio­nal organisation which focuses on UFO observations. It was founded in 1970 and regularly publishes the magazine UFO-aktuellt (Current UFO News). This magazine contains articles which approach the UFO theme from a variety of different perspectives. Many articles discuss possible scientific explanations for the existence of UFO s. Over the years, a number of articles about telepathy and other paranormal phenomena have been published in the same magazine. Some of the issues have contained articles about UFO religions, often written from a sceptical perspective. Examples of other organisations are UFO-Häggvik and Göteborg GICOFF (an abbreviation of Sw. Göteborgs infromationscenter för oidentifierade flygande föremål, i.e., Gothenburg Information Centre for Uniden­tified Flying Objects). Håkan Blomqvist, a former member of a religious group that to some extent incorporates UFO s in its mythology (Hylozoism, see the chapter on Theosophically-inspired movements in Sweden in the present volume), is the chair of a private archive for “UFO research” in the

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Swedish town of Norrköping (Sw. Arkivet för UFO-forskning, AFU). This archive is now one of the world’s largest repositories of UFO-related materials. Interesting as these phenomena are, the remainder of the present article is limited to the religious aspects of UFO belief. Religious traditions which only to some marginal extent refer to extraterrestrial beings, such as Scientology, ISKCON, and Swedenborgianism, are not discussed here.

International UFO Movements in Sweden

Two international UFO religions can currently be found in Sweden; the Raelian Movement and Ashtar Command. The Raelian Movement was established in Sweden in the middle of the 1990s. The founder of the religion, Claude Vorilhon, visited Sweden in 1995, and in the beginning of 1997 the organisation had six members. At the time of writing (2014) the Raelian Movement has approximately thirty members in Sweden, according to the current leader of the Swedish section of the movement. The leader also claims that the number of visitors on their website and the number of books sold are increasing. According to the Swedish leader, the Raelian movement adapts its activities to each country were it exists. Sweden is, according to him, a country where the population is largely secularised, a fact that influences the status of the Raelian movement in a negative way. Many Swedish libraries have refused to buy books by Claude Vorilhon or other members of the Raelian movement, which according to the Swedish leader is “pure censorship”. Other topics that the Raelian movement focuses on internationally are also stressed in Sweden. Thus, the Swedish section of the movement stresses the benefits of cloning, gene modification, and stem cell research. The movement in Sweden has been involved in various social and political campaigns, for example the so called “clitoraid” campaign, which was initiated for the purpose of defending women who risk genital mutilation. The leader also told me about common reactions to the movement’s ideas when members are out in the public to spread the movement’s message. Many people find their philosophical teachings acceptable, but feel that the references to extraterrestrials in the group’s teachings are strange. Furthermore, Swedes are also often not willing to belong to a specific organisation or religious movement. Paradoxically, according to the Swedish leader of the Raelian movement, some individuals in Sweden have problems with the fact that the movement does not acknowledge the existence of a god or divine principle. The Raelian teachings deny both the validity of the theory of evolution and the belief in a god or divine being, and when combined, these two stances may seem strange in the eyes of most Swedes. The Raelian

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movement in Sweden faces a similar situation as in most other European countries, where the number of followers is quite small. The Swedish part of the world wide network of the Ashtar Command promotes its ideas on the Internet. The administrator of the Swedish webpage (founded 15 May 2006), who calls himself Ben-Arion, insists (in an interview with the present author) that Ashtar Command is not an organisation, but a ‘platform for universal knowledge’ based on the teachings of the master Ashtar. The platform is a part of the wider cosmic Galactic Federation and the Great White Brotherhood. According to the chair there are 1,500 registered members. The purpose of Asthar Command is, according to the website, to bring knowledge and love to humanity, and this purpose is not dependent upon the country where the teachings are spread. Real knowledge and love is to be found inside humans, in their hearts and in their inner light and energy. According to Ben Arion, Ashtar Command is not focused on material UFO s. The UFO s that are of interest to the Ashtar Command are made of “higher energy” and are not subject to any limitations. While the Raelian movement claims that extraterrestrials have technology that is 25,000 years more advanced than that found on Earth, the Great White Brotherhood of the Ashtar Command is said to be several million years in advance.

Swedish-based UFO Movements

One early influential example of a person to disseminate a religiously tinged Swedish UFO belief is Edith Nicolaisen (1911–1986). She was born in Denmark, studied at various universities in the USA, but later lived most of her life in Sweden. She heard about UFO s for the first time in 1954 and was greatly inspired by George Adamski and his paradigmatic encounters with UFO s. Edith Nicolaisen claimed to have encountered her first UFO in 1955 outside the town of Linköping, in southern Sweden. In 1957, she founded the publishing company Parthenon, which published Swedish translations of several UFO books that were widely read at that time. Her stated purpose with running the publishing company was to publish literature with a philosophical message that she called “den kosmiska filosofin” (the Cosmic Philosophy), which was to be especially suitable for the Swedish youth. She visited and held lectures and seminars in hundreds of schools and libraries all over Sweden. Edith Nicolaisen also studied occult topics such as clairvoyance, Anthroposophy, Theosophy, and Rosicrucian teachings. Although she was inspired by George Adamski, she departed from his ideas by suggesting that the aliens and UFO s that she

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encountered came from higher non-physical worlds. For this reason she referred to the aliens as messengers and angels. She came to suggest that she had an important mission from God. According to writer Håkan Blomqvist, in her late years she frequently spoke of the coming of a “new age”. Individuals that she liked and who she felt were especially spiritual she called “interplanetary humans”. Sten Lindgren’s organisation Intergalaktiska Federationen (Intergalactic Federation), abbreviated IGF, was active at least from 1965 and during the 1970s. In this organisation, Sten Lindgren functioned as a charismatic spiritual leader who claimed to have experienced several hundred contacts with alien beings from other civilisations, in particular visitors from the planet Venus. A closely related organisation was Ifologiska Sällskapet (the Ifological society), where some members claimed to have contacts with a Cosmic Brotherhood. Many concepts in these organisations had clear connections to existing religious traditions, mainly Christianity, because Jesus was often viewed as the saviour in an imminent eschatological scenario. There were also Theosophicallyinspired elements (such as telepathy, reincarnation, and the concept of a spiritually superior brotherhood). The ideal of following an ascetic life-style also circulated in these movements, as did conspiracy theories about intelligence services in various countries trying to hide the fact that UFO s and aliens existed. At least on one occasion conflict arose when one associate began to move toward a more scientifically-inspired conception of UFO s. This person was then by some members of Intergalaktiska Federationen identified as being a member of an evil serpent race. Allegedly, there were plans to place him in a specially designed electric chair so that his reptile head would reveal itself, but these plans were never carried out. In the mid-1980s, Sten Lindgren increasingly adopted Theosophical ideas that were not combined with UFO beliefs, and created a teaching course on what he called esoteric particles (esoteriska stoftkorn). Several other Swedish authors have written about UFO s from a religious perspective, including Sune Hjort, Ante Jonsson, Boris Jungqvist, Staffan Stigsjöö, Kristina Wennergren, and Björn Örtenheim. A further movement, active in the 1990s but now defunct, is Anders B. Johansson’s Tri Orion Sirius (later renamed Metatron), a charismatically-led organisation comprising a considerable number of female followers, who were awaiting the coming of the so-called Sirians. Religious, spiritual, and esoteric elements are sometimes mixed with pseudo-scientific UFO beliefs, conspiracy theories, racial, anti-Semitic, and right-wing extremist ideas. These kinds of teachings have both similarities and differences with parallel phenomena in other Western countries. In the

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Swedish versions of conspiracy theories alleging that there are attempts to conceal the existence of UFO s and aliens, the Swedish Defence Research Agency (Totalförsvarets forskningsinstitut, FOI) is the main culprit. Sweden has had its own share of innovative mixes of UFO beliefs and rightwing extremism. For example, the ex-member of one Swedish Nazi party (Svensk socialistisk samling) during the Second World War, and former high school teacher in Sundsvall, Sune Hjort, claims that the ancient Northern gods Odin and Thor are aliens. Odin’s Wagon is in fact a sophisticated spaceship. Hjort turned to UFO beliefs during the late 1980s, inspired by the Swiss contactee Eduard Meyer. He came in conflict with certain prominent Swedish UFO enthusiasts, who he claimed were part of a CIA conspiracy. In 1992 he founded the organisation Sveriges UFO-förbund (UFO Association of Sweden) and the magazine UFO-kontakt. He also wrote books, such as Rymdmänniskor på jorden (Space People on Earth, 1996), that are clearly inspired by the anti-Semitic text Protocols of the Elders of Zion. His teachings are highly eclectic, combining New Age concepts with Norse and Egyptian mythology. He claims, for instance, that Osiris, Horus, and Seth have been incarnated in certain Swedish members of his UFO organisation. The most important person in the Swedish milieu to combine Theosophical and UFO-inspired concepts is Lars Adelskogh (b. 1950). Adelskogh’s writings are heavily influenced by the works of Swedish esotericist Henrik von Zeipel (1882–1971), who wrote under the pseudonym Henry T. Laurency. Zeipel, who is the creator of a Swedish esoteric tradition known as hylozoism (see the chapter on Theosophically-inspired movements in Sweden) studied philosophy in Uppsala, but soon became interested in yoga, Pythagorean philosophy, Theosophy, and Anthroposophy. He had mystical experiences and claimed to be a reincarnation of the Greek philosopher Democritos. During a period of his life, Zeipel was member of the Adyar-based Theosophical Society. Zeipel was married to Sonja Reuterskiöld, who helped him with printing, publishing, and distributing his books, because no publisher wanted to publish his texts. After Zeipel’s death his wife at first kept his unpublished writings, but a struggle erupted between Bertil Kuhleman and Lars Adelskogh as to who of them should be the next person to have the rights to his texts. Adelskogh won the battle. Lars Adelskogh has a background as teacher (at an educational institution for adults, Folkhögskolan i Axevalla), but was fired after publishing an article where he described the European Union as part of a Jewish conspiracy. Adelskogh was also a member of Sten Lindgren’s IGF, and claimed to be in contact with hidden spiritual masters. Together with some followers, he formed Förlagsstiftelsen Henry T. Laurency in 1979 and in 1984 he founded

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Institutet för hylozoiska studier (The Institute for Hylozoic Studies) and organised courses and seminars on Hylozoism. The Estonian Jüri Lina, who has promoted UFO beliefs and anti-Semitism in Estonia, has also cooperated with Adelskogh. At present, Adelskogh runs a webpage where Laurency’s books and texts are published, together with his own books which explain Laurency’s teachings. It is also possible to order printed copies of the books. During the 1990s Adelskogh began to openly claim that the Holocaust had never occurred. He translated revisionist literature into Swedish, and wrote a revisionist book himself that was published by a right-wing publishing house (Nordiska förlaget). Adelskogh, together with Laurency, is perhaps the clearest example of Swedish UFO-belief with esoteric elements. There is not enough space here to develop a full analysis of their teachings, but there are elements of Theosophy, Ariosophy, and esoteric fascism. As there are historical connections – today hard to document precisely – between Lars Adelskogh and other UFO believers such as Sune Hjort, we could probably speak of a cultic milieu or subculture of a specific Swedish anti-Semitic esoteric UFO belief. Even though this cultic milieu perhaps consists of less than 100 individuals, it draws on conspiracy theories from other subcultures, including some that advocate the use of violence. The historical and social connections between these various ideas and Swedish subcultural milieus are yet to be researched.

References

Adelskogh, Lars, Förklaringen, Skövde: Foinix förlag, 1991. ——— . En tom säck kan inte stå: Myten om “förintelsen i gaskamrarna” i Auschwitz, Skövde: Nordiska förlaget, 2007. Åkerbäck, Peter, “Raeliska rörelsen”, in: Ingvar Svanberg and David Westerlund (eds.), Religion i Sverige, Stockholm: Dialogos förlag, 2008, 332–334. Blomqvist, Håkan, UFo – i myt och verklighet, Nyköping: Parthenon, 1993. Hjort, Sune, Den dolda sanningen om UFO, Göteborg: Zindermans, 1991. ——— . Mästarens lära och liv, Göteborg: Zindermans, 1994. ——— . Rymdmänniskor på jorden!, Göteborg: Zindermans, 1996. Hjort, Sune and Ante Jonsson, Fantastiska resor med UFO, Sundsvall: Zindermans, 1989. Laurency, Henry T., (pseud.), Livskunskap, Vol. 1–5. Skövde: Förlagsstiftelsen Henry T. Laurency, 1986–1995. ——— . Människans väg, Skövde: Förlagsstiftelsen Henry T. Laurency, 1998. ——— . De vises sten: världs- och livsåskådning, Skövde: Förlagsstiftelsen Henry T. Laurency, 1995.

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——— . Kunskapen om verkligheten. Skövde: Förlagsstiftelsen Henry T. Laurency, 1961. Lina, Jüri, UFO-forskning i Sovjetunionen, Stockholm: Faag, 1984. ——— . Ufo-gåtan fördjupas, Stockholm: Förlaget Referent, 1992. ——— . Världsbyggarnas bedrägeri: frimureriets dolda historia, Stockholm: Förlaget Referent, 2001.

Index ofIndex Namesof names

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Index of Names Aagaard, Johannes 458, 459, 461 Aalborg, Niels Mikkelsen 13 Aarseth, Øystein 482–484, 621 Aase, Roger Karsten 165–166 Aasheim, Knut 650–651, 653–655, 657–659 Aasheim, Thomas Nordraak 603–605 Abend, Frau 528 Åberg, Bengt 142–143 Aboicus, Laurentius Petri 239 Åbom, Johan 86 Abrahamsson, Carl 467, 489 Achrelius, Daniel 18, 414–415 Achrelius, Eric 413, 426 Acton, Alfred 537, 551 Adamski, George 632–635, 641–642, 646, 650–651, 662 Adde, Torill 339 Adelskogh, Lars 612–613, 664–665 Adolf Fredrik of Sweden 168 Aeimelaeus, A. 240 Afzelius, Adam 285 Agnosta, Irenæus 434, 437 Agrippa, Cornelius, von Nettesheim 79, 83, 130, 219–220, 237, 239, 245, 248, 250, 415, 419, 421 Aguéli, Ivan 624–626, 627–628 Agústsson, Jóhannes 282 Ahla, Catharina Sofia 124 Ahlbäck, Tore 9, 438, 452, 553, 569 Ahlberg, Clara 58 Ahlberg, Grete 658 Ahlberg, Nora 307, 311 Ahlin, Lars 106, 111, 196–197, 202, 260, 262, 300 Ahnlund, Nils 86 Aho, Jouko 501, 505 Ahola, Minna 125 Ahorinta, Keijo 476, 479 Ahtokari, Reijo 153–155, 157, 160 Åkerbäck, Peter 665 Åkerberg, Axel Frithiof 525, 578 Åkerman, Susanna 227, 427, 430, 443 Akiander, Matthias 23, 119, 123, 125 Akre, Siv 656 Aksákov, Alexander Nikolajevitj 524

Alander, Christian 240 Alanus, Georgius 237, 413–414 Alcén, Ragnar 613 Alcibiades 190 Alenius, Marianne 409 Alexander VI, Pope (Borgia) 191 Alexanderson, Anders August 524–525, 527–528, 532 Alexandersson, Kerstin 493 Alfstad, Tore 654–659 Al-Jabir 33 Alm, Ivar 205–206, 210 Alme, Henrik 571, 577 Almqvist, Carl Jonas Love 41, 141, 543–544 Almqvist, Kurt 209–210, 626–227, 628–629 Almqvist, Michael 105, 111 Alrutz, Sydney 528–529 Alver, Bente Gullveig 465, 472 Ambjörnsson, Ronny 23, 42, 139, 143 Ames, Julia 511 Amman, Paul 30 Amundsen, A. Bugge 423 Ananda Tara Shan (Jeanne Morashti) 297, 587–589 Anckarström, Jakob Johan 38 Andersen, Birgit 358 Andersen, Carli 446–447, 454–455 Andersen, Edvard Emil 447 Andersen, J. Oskar 437 Andersen, Kaj 446 Andersen, Per Thomas 134 Anderssén, Alfred 155 Andersson, Ann-Britt 144 Andersson, Ingvar 79, 86 Andersson, Otto 156 Andreae, Jakob 432 Andreae, Johann Valentin 193, 393, 431, 435–436, 442 Ankarloo, Bengt 235 Anker, Bernt 163 Anker, Ella 511–512, 518 Anker, Herman 511 Anna of Denmark (Princess) 405 Antikainen, Marjo-Riita 125 Anttila, Jarmo 596

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_084

668 Augustine 27 Aukrust, Olav 54 Aurier, Albert 549–550 Appel, Charlotte 17, 409 Appelgren, Anne Marie 105, 112 Aquinas, Thomas 28 Aquino, Michael A. 490 Archenholtz, Johann 39, 85 Arfvidson, Ulrika 251 Argoli, Andras 75 Aristotle 182, 186, 408 Arlebrand, Håkan 610, 612 Armauer Hansen, Gerhard H. 273–275, 282 Arndal, Steffen 115, 117 Arndt, Johann 23, 114, 130, 139, 411–412, 421, 430–431, 435–436 Arnisæus, Henning 13 Arnold, Gottfried 27, 114–115, 120–121, 139, 421–422 Arnold, Hans 276–277, 282 Arnold, Kenneth 650 Arppe, Edvard Adolf 24 Artamaa, Marja 567 Artedi, Petrus 18 Artephius 18 Artista, Elias 80, 411, 428–429 Arvidsson, Bengt 437 Ashlag, Rav Yehuda 215 Aslakssøn, Kort 405, 418–419 Aspect, Alain 652 Asprem, Egil 341, 473 Atterbom, Per Daniel Amadeus 41, 141 August of Anhalt 427 Aviaf, Frater 345 Aziza 358 Baader, Franz von 41, 116, 124, 142 Bacon, Francis 392, 404 Backman, Alfred 524 Bailey, Alice Ann 260, 316, 560, 561, 576, 589–590, 605, 609–610, 611–613 Bak-Jensen, Søren 268 Ballard, Guy 610, 657 Balvoll, Gudmund 76 Balzac 549 Barchusen, Johann Conrad 30 Bärlund, Göran 600 Barnett, Michael 298

Index Of Names Baron, Archaelus 326 Barrett, Lee C. 117 Bartholdy, Nils 150 Bartholin, Caspar, the Elder 12, 68, 184, 233–234, 406, 419, 433, 434 Barton, H. Arnold 586 Bastholm, Eyvind 408 Battus, Levinus 410 Baudelaire, Charles 549, 625 Bauman, Zygmunt 458 Beal, Mark 111–112 Beamish-Mossander, Huldine 523 Bech, Jonas 465, 472 Becher, Joachim 30 Becher, Daniel 420 Becker, Howard 478–479 Beguin, Jean 26, 28–29, 417, 419–420 Ben-Arion 662 Bendriss, Lilli 517–518 Benedicht, Lorentz 66 Bennett, J.G. 324–325 Bennis, Hardy 560, 562, 590 Benthorn, Mark 110, 112 Béranger, Pierre Jean de 522 Berchelt, Simon 425 Berg, Hans 181 Berg, Jesper Juel 472, 469 Berg, Magnus 129–131, 421 Bergé, Christine 444 Bergen, Carl von 523–524, 578 Berger, Arthur S. 498 Berger, Helen A. 373, 378 Berger, Joyce 498 Bergersen, Helge Ole 57 Bergh, Richard 625 Bergklint, Carl Fredrik 21 Berg, Rav Philip 215 Bergman, Carl Henrik 142, 144 Bergman, Ingmar 207 Bergman, Maria Aparecida 532 Bergman, Torbern 21 Bergman, Wilhelm 142 Bergo, Jørgen 518 Bergroth, Tom C. 153–155, 160, 173, 181 Bering, Henrik 549, 551 Berman, Patricia G. 333, 341 Bernard, Christian 459, 462 Bernheim, Hippolyte 290

Index of Names Bernstorff, A.P. 265 Bertelsen, Helle 262, 358 Bertelsen, Jes 200, 296–297, 300 Bertiaux, Michael 321, 337, 467 Besant, Annie 180, 555–556, 570, 572–573, 580, 584, 592, 595–596, 608–609, 613 Beskow, Bernhard von 550 Beskow, Gustaf Emanuel 142 Bessmertnaja, Katja 615 Best, Joel 480 Betucci, M.L. 551–552 Beyer, Gabriel Anders 20, 536–537 Bhajan, Yogi 225, 317 Billberg, Gustav Johan 542 Bischoff, Ulrich 551 Bitz, Conrad 236 Bjarke, B. 347, 349 Bjelfvenstam, Erik 282 Bjerke, André 54, 515 Bjerre, Poul 203–205, 210 Bjørk, Sven 201 Björkhem, John 290–291 Björkhem, Örjan 210 Bjørn, Claus 268 Björnberg, Carl 152, 171 Bjørneboe, Jens 54, 56 Björnram, Gustav 19, 171, 179, 241, 246, 248–250, 521 Bjørnson, Bjørnstjerne 273–274, 282, 510, 512 Björnström, Fredrik 289, 291 Blain, Jenny 360, 365 Blake, Joseph A. 640, 649 Blake, William 41, 127 Blavatsky, Helena Petrovna 293, 328, 450, 466, 554, 563, 570, 577–579, 585, 587, 595, 599, 610, 613, 642, 646 Blauuw, Argoli 75 Blauuw, Wilhelm 75 Blebel, Thomas 75 Blekastad, Milada 393, 395–396, 399 Bleuler, Eugen 203–204, 206 Block, Magnus Gabriel von 37, 78, 85–86, 193, 429 Blok, Frans Felix 194 Blomqvist, Håkan 613, 660, 663, 665 Blumenthal, Georg Henrich 28–29, 418 Blytt, Eva 572–573

669 Bobé, Louis 265, 268 Boch, Patrik 615 Bodin, Jean 241 Bodman, Gösta 24 Boeck, Christian Peter Bianco 270, 282 Boerhaave, Hermann 408 Boesen, Karen 91, 93, 96 Bogdan, Henrik 341, 343, 349, 489, 493 Bøgelund, Vinni 353, 354, 358 Bogren, Erik 583 Boheman, Carl Adolf 171, 248–250 Bohm, David 584 Böhme, Jakob 22–23, 27–28, 73, 113–143, 212, 258, 417–419, 421–423 Boije af Gennäs, Hans Henrik 152 Bolt, Edwin C. 574 Boltzius, Fredrik August 274–275, 280 Bonde, Carl Göran 175, 222 Bonde, Christer 38–39 Bonde, Gustaf 38–40, 440–442 Bonde, Karl Knutsson 176 Bonde, Lorentz Fredrik 442 Bonnevie, Thomas 514 Bonsac, Henrik Jochumsen 27–28 Boolsen, Gudmund 638–639 Borberg, Niels Christian 497–498 Borch, Ole (Olaus Borrichius) 14–15, 27, 30, 184, 185–188, 212–213, 217, 234, 407–408 Borge, Bernhard 515, 518 Borgen, Peder 31, 76, 135, 423 Borgman, Oskar Hansen 43–48 Bork, Erik 635, 639 Born, Ignaz von 149 Borozenec, Maxim 615 Borregaard, Send 498 Borri, Giuseppe Francesco 15, 16, 27, 36, 185, 213, 217 Borup, Christian 92–94, 96 Borup, Jørn 594 Boström, Christopher Jacob 578 Botvar, Pål Ketil 311 Böwadt, Pia R. 263, 594 Boyesen, Adolph Theodor 506–507, 517 Boyle, Robert 192, 404 Brach, Jean-Pierre 330, 349 Braconnier, Helga 290–291 Brage, Frater 341 Brahe, Abraham 33

670 Brahe, Per 238–239 Brahe, Sophie 12, 67 Brahe, Tycho 6, 11–12, 65, 66–68, 71, 73, 75, 79, 183–184, 193, 212, 404–405, 411, 418, 433 Braid, James 289 Brandes, Georg 273 Brandis, Joachim Dietrich 266, 268, 271 Brandt, Cathrine 332, 337–338 Brandt, Paul 27–28, 419 Bråthen, Heidi 367, 379 Bratt, Iwan 204–205, 210 Bratt, Signe 204 Braun, Laurentius (Braunerskjöld) 413–414 Brecht, Martin 117, 393, 400 Breckling, Friedrich 114, 117 Breeze, William 334 Breitholtz, Louise 528 Breivik, Anders Behring 166 Bremer, Andreas 408–409 Brenz, Johannes 432 Bricaud, Joanny 319 Briem, Efraim 532 Brinch, Christian 507, 518 Bring, Johan Christopher 142 Brinkfort, Louis 89, 96 Britten, Emma Hardinge 501, 518 Broberg, Ernst 530 Broch, Jens Christensen 114 Brochmand, Jesper 69 Brock, Erland J. 551–552 Brodin, Jenny-Ann 108, 112 Bromley, David G. 480 Bromley, Thomas 119, 121 Brønsted, Niels 560, 590 Brorson, Hans Adolph 115 Browallius, Johan 415 Brumore, Louis Joseph Bernard Philibert Guyton de Morveau 178 Bruno, Giordano 191, 193, 212, 248 Brunton, Paul 293 Brynildsen, Aasmund 54, 133 Buddha 256, 597–598, 625, 634 Budevez, Vaclav 75 Buch, Tage 263 Buchardt, Mette 263, 594 Bugge, Karl Ludwig 151, 166 Bull, Francis 284 Bull, Pelle (Per Jørgensen) 320

Index Of Names Bureus, Johannes 2, 6, 34, 78, 82, 138, 191, 218–220, 221, 223, 225–227, 245, 425–428, 439–440 Burgoyne, Thomas H. 105, 112 Burhan, Filiz Eda 549, 551 Burnier, Radha 561–562, 590 Busch, Oscar 523 Byberg, Peder Madsen 217, 323, 467 Byrne, Rhonda 314 Cajander, Carl Alexander 24 Calvisius, Sethus 76 Campanella, Tommaso 193, 194, 393 Canaan 186 Capeteyn, Peter 65 Capkova, Dagmar 400 Cappel, J.D. 16–17 Capra, Fritjof 201, 584 Cardano, Girolamo 30, 65, 74, 79, 81 Cardena, Etzel 290–291 Hesse-Cassel, Charles of 16, 148–149, 163, 175, 250, 265 Carlberg, Anders 209–210 Carleson, Carl Alfred 528–529 Carleson, Robert 252 Carleson, Rolf 530–532 Carlson, Martin E. 400 Carlsson, Carl Alexander 532 Carlsson, Carl-Gustav 318 Carlsson, Sten 551 Carlsson, Gösta 660 Casaubon, Isaac 187 Case, Paul Foster 461 Casmann, Otto 83, 86 Castaneda, Carlos 362, 377 Castberg, Jørgen Ebbesen 512–513, 518 Castel, William 536 Cederquist, Jan 208, 210 Cederschiöld, Pehr Gustaf 265, 268, 288–291 Celsius, Nils 85–86 Cézanne, Paul 624 Chaboseau, Augustin 343 Charcot, Jean-Martin 274 Charles II of England 192 Charles IX of Sweden 79, 83–84, 427, 410, 425 Charles X Gustavus of Sweden 79, 398

671

Index of Names Charles XII of Sweden 36, 85, 121, 139, 143, 416, 429 Charles XIII of Sweden 7, 41, 141, 152, 169–173, 174–180, 221–223, 246–250, 521 Charlotta of Sweden 250 Chelcitský, Petr 391 Chemnitz, Martin 432 Chesnecopherus, Johannes 35 Chopra, Deepak 197 Choraelius, Eric 441 Christensen, Dorothea 530 Christensen, Irene 90, 96 Christensen, Terje 57 Christian II of Denmark 11 Christian III of Denmark 11, 65 Christian IV of Denmark 6, 13–14, 66–68, 407, 428, 434 Christian V of Denmark 16, 28 Christian VI of Denmark 7, 16 Christian VII of Denmark 16, 265 Christian VIII of Denmark 149 Christiansen, Jacob 615–616 Christianson, John Robert 17, 69, 188 Christiansson, Sam 110 Christina of Sweden 35–36, 39, 79, 82, 85, 138, 190–193, 390, 394, 396–398, 428–429, 440 Christner, Jeremy 326 Chronich, Niels Svendsen 113–114, 118, 127–128, 422–423 Chrysoloras, Manuel 426 Cicero, Chic 344 Clavius, Christopher 74 Clement of Alexandria 187 Clermont 147 Clermont-Tonnere 168 Clowes, John 543 Cohen, Moshe ben Aharon 221 Collijn, Isak 86 Collin, Anders 122, 141–142, 147 Comenius, Johann Amos 34, 133, 390–399, 400, 422–423 Conring, Hermann 186–187 Cook, Cecil M. 529 Cooke, Grace 593, 601 Cooke, Ivan 593 Cooper, Alice 464 Copernicus, Nicolaus 73, 75

Cosmopolita, Anastasius Philareta, see Joachim Morsius Coucheron, Peter 135 Crawford, William Jackson 524 Creme, Benjamin 604 Croll, Oswald 13, 26, 28–30, 131, 417–418, 420 Cronhiort, Carl Gustaf 249 Cronstedt, Axel Fredrik 40, 242 Cronstedt, Marie-Louise 208, 210 Crookes, William 508 Crosbie, Robert 585 Crowley, Aleister 226, 320–332, 334–335, 338–339, 341, 347, 349, 483, 486 Crowley, Vivianne 373 Cusanus, Nicolaus 134 Daa, Valdemar 15 Daae, Ludvig 284 Dahl, Dagny 514–515 Dahl, Folke 79, 87 Dahl, Gina 31, 76, 423 Dahl, Ingeborg 514–515 Dahl, Ludvig 513–515, 518 Dahl, Thor Edvin 518 Dahlgren, Carl 171, 181 Dahlin, A. 522 Dahlin, Per 104, 109, 110, 112 Damman, Erik 308 Damsgaard, Lotte 589, 594 Danell, Staffan 225 Danielsson, Lennart 63 Däniken, Erich von 293, 645–646, 651 Darwin, Charles 273 Daut, Johann Maximilian 121 Davidsen, Markus Altene 350, 358 Davies, Owen 252 Davis, Andrew Jackson 524 Davy, Barbara Jane 360, 365 De Geer, Jean Jacob 248 De Geer, Laurens 397–398 De Geer, Louis 394–397 Dee, John 39, 190, 212, 219, 245, 440 Del Rio, Martin 234 Descartes, René 116, 241, 396–397, 414 Deveney, John Patrick 343, 349 d’Espagnet, Jean 21 d’Esperance, Madame (Elizabeth) 510, 523–524

672 Dickson, Donald 194, 437 Digby, Kenelm 18 Digelius, Sven 252 Dílo, Jana Amose Komenského 400 Dingwall, Eric J. 282 Dippel, Johann Konrad (Christianus Democritus) 16, 22, 39, 115, 121, 140, 421 Dirckinck-Holmfeld, Constant 494, 498 Djurberg, Daniel 124–125 Djurklou, Gabriel 251–252 Doinel, Jules-Benoît 335 Donner, Harry 242 Donner, Olly 51 Donner, Uno 49, 51 Dons, Poul 28–30, 418 Dorn, Gerhard 425 Dorsche, Johan Andersson 121 Dostoevsky, Fyodor 548–549 Doyle, Arthur Conan 512, 519, 529 Drake, Frances 106, 112 Drakenstjerna, Mattias 28 Dreyer, J.L.E. 69 Drosnin, Michael 649 Druehyld, Dannie 356 Duchesne, Joseph (Quercetanus) 13, 28, 30, 418 Dugin, Alexander 616 Duke Charles, see Charles XIII of Sweden Duncan, Adrian 91 Dunér, David 547 d’Urfé, Marquise 39–40 Dury, John 394–395 Dyrendal, Asbjørn 463, 465, 468–469, 471–473, 481–483, 486–488, 493 Ebelin, Florian 194 Eberhard, Christoffer 115 Eco, Umberto 224 Eckbom, Olaf 536 Eckleff, Carl Friedrich 169 Edenborg, Carl-Michael 42, 430, 444 Edenius, J.N. 120 Edholm, Mats 210 Edighoffer, Roland 437, 444 Edris, Karl-Erik 610 Edvardsen, Edvard 73–75, 76, 128, 135, 419–420, 422–423 Egede, Hans 4, 31

Index Of Names Egilsrud, Helen 572, 575, 577 Eglington, William 8, 523 Ehm, Henrik 12 Ehrenborg, Anna Fredrika 543, 544–545 Ehrenborg, Casper 544 Eide, Rita 309, 516 Eie, Sigmund 576 Einstein, Albert 652 Eising, Esper 44 Ekenstam, Fabian Wilhelm af 41 Ekhof, Diderik 419 Ekker, Jan 339 Eklund, Dan 181 Ekman, Eero 155, 160–161 Ekström, Anders 108, 110–112 Ekström, Hjalmar 142–143 Ekström, Outi 109–110, 112 Elfwing, Gerhard 570 Ellis, Bill 477, 480 Elvestrand, Vegard 32 Elstrup, Lars 298 Emberland, Terje 368, 379, 659 Encausse, Gérard (Papus) 343 Eneström, G. 87 Engedal, Leif Gunnar 312 Engelsrud, Helen 573 Enger, Anton 282 Enrot, Johannes 238 Eolenius, Henricus Thomae 239 Erik XIV of Sweden 33, 79 Eriksen, Henrik 519 Eriksen, Morten 653, 656 Eriksen, Richard 53, 508–509, 519, 570–572 Erikson, Erik 20 Eriksson, Einar 280–281, 283 Eriksson, Erik 121–122 Eriksson, Hans 109–110, 121–122 Eriksson, Tommy 490 Ervast, Pekka 449–452, 565–566, 595–598 Eskhult, Josef 221, 227 Espeland, Velle 519 Ettmüller, Michael 30 Evans, Dave 341 Evmaios, Frater 334 Evola, Julius 615, 616, 617, 618, 622 Eytzinger, Fredrik 251–253 Ezzy, Douglas 360, 365, 373, 378

673

Index of Names Fabritius, Johan Jacob (Justus Klager) 421 Færden, Michael Johan 275, 283 Færseth, John 166 Fagerlund, L.W. 416 Faivre, Antoine 330, 349, 552 Falck, Kyrre Gram 378 Falkenberg af Trystorp, Adolf Fredrik 171 Fant, Åke 532 Faraday, Michael 279 Fast, Krister 613 Faxneld, Per 217, 323, 467, 472 Fay, Anne Eva 510 Faye, Frans Christian 272, 283 Feldman, Matthew 167 Felgenhauer, Paul 138 Ferdinand of Braunschweig 171, 172 Fernback, Jan 360, 365 Fersen, Reinhold Johan von 37 Fibiger, Marianne Q. 357–358, 359, 562, 594 Ficino, Marsilio 68, 182, 184–186, 190, 212 Fidler, Matthew 523 Figulus, Benedict 429 Fincke, Thomas 405–406 Findeisen, Barbara 199, 316 Fink-Jensen, Morten 17, 69, 188, 217, 234, 409, 437 Fitschen, Klaus 125 Fjällström, Torbjörn 195 Fjellander, Sigfrid 607 Fjelstrup, August 17, 409 Flaxman, John 41 Flemløse, Peder Jacobsen 71 Flock, Alme 571, 577 Flock, Ludvig Gerhard Bendix Flock 571, 577 Flood, Jørgen W. 32 Floyd, Thomas Xavier 517 Fludd, Robert 191, 442 Fonneland, Trude A. 367, 379 Forberger, Christopher 36 Forberger, Samuel 36 Forsius, Arno 87 Forsius, Sigfrid Aron 6, 78, 79–82, 83–84, 87, 189–190, 410–411, 412, 428 Forsstrand, Carl 141, 143, 173, 181, 222, 227 Forstadius, Arvid 238 Fortune, Dion (Violet Mary Firth) 215, 346 Forzelius, Nicolaus L. 240, 415 Fos, Anette Karls 493

Franck, Johannes 18, 35–36, 78, 82, 87, 413, 428–429 Franck, Matthias 35 Franck, Sebastian 421 Francke, August Hermann 120 Franckenberg, Abraham von 115, 138, 440 Frankell, Tomas 199, 202, 313, 316–318 Frankfurter, David 479–480 Frauen, Johann 114 Fredell, Peter 246, 253 Frederik II of Denmark 6, 11, 67, 404, 432–434 Frederik III of Denmark 14–15, 27, 185–186 Frederik IV of Denmark 16, 115 Frederick V of Bohemia 427 Frederik V of Denmark 163 Frederik VI of Denmark 266 Freding, Sophie Elisabeth 279 Fredrik Adolphus, duke 169, 172 Fredriksen, Tom Thygesen 463, 472 Fremming, Grethe 593 Freud, Sigmund 203, 205 Fridegård, Jan 531 Fridman, Andreas 278–279, 283 Friedenreich, Alexander 496–498 Friedrichsen, Fr. 268 Friis, Niels 76 Frisk, Liselotte 63, 202, 318, 613 Frisk, Monica Katarina (Seilitz) 313–314, 318 Frisk, Per 313–314, 318 Frisvold, Nicholaj de Mattos 332, 337–339 Frödén, Sara 63 Fromme, Georg 76 Frosini, Eduardo 319 Fullerton, Alexander 563 Furseth, Inger 311, 458, 462 Gadd, Pehr Adrian 415 Gadolin, Jakob 18–19 Galtung, Johan 166–167 Gandhi, Mahatma 308 Gangaji 316 Garborg, Arne 510 Gardell, Mattias 354, 358 Gardner, Gerald 356, 374 Garstein, Oskar 423 Gartner, Christian 70 Gaslander, Johannes 252

674 Gaslander, Sven Peter 252 Gauffin, Axel 625–626, 629 Gauguin 549–550, 624 Gaulcke, Christian 16 Gauld, Alan 289–291 Gaup, Ailo 377, 379 Geber 28 Geels, Antoon 143, 225 Geertz, Armin W. 97 Geijerstam, Emmanuel af 204 Geijerstam, Karl af 580 Gejel, Mikael W. 346 Gerhardt, Paul 115 Gerich, Paul von 105, 112 Gerloff, Hans 498 Gersdorff, Joachim 187, 407 Gestrinius, Martinus Erici 82, 87, 426 Gezelius, Johan jr. 120 Gezelius, Johannes 240 Gichtel, Johann George 114, 119–120, 124, 421 Gieser, Suzanne 208, 210 Gilhus, Ingvild Sælid 57, 284, 312, 367, 379, 453, 462, 519, 577 Gilje, Nils 76 Gilly, Carlos 394, 400, 430, 437, 444 Gjeitanger, Anne 516, 519 Glauber, Johann Rudolph 14, 30, 36 Glebe-Møller, Jens 437 Glüsling, Johan Otto 437 Godelmannus, Johannes Georgius 241 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von 149 Goldmayer, Andreas 79 Gonce III, John Wisdom 342 Goodblat, Chanita R. 227 Goodman, Linda 106, 112 Gorakhnath 338 Göransson, Sven 400 Göring, Carin 523 Göring, Hermann 523 Gormsen, Klaus 201 Gothus, Johannes Matthiae 394 Gothus, Laurentius Paulinus 78, 84, 87, 244, 253 Grabianka, Thaddeus Leszczy 178 Granatenhjelm, Fredrik 153–154 Granberg, Anna 105, 112 Grand, Jens 11 Grandin, Karl 547, 551–552

Index Of Names Grane, Leif 118, 188 Granfelt, A.F. 124 Granholm, Kennet 327–328, 330, 341, 347–349, 473, 475, 478–479, 491, 493, 602 Grann, Juhan af 647–649 Grant, Kenneth 326, 332, 336, 342 Grape, Anders 397, 400 Gräsbeck, Armas 152, 161 Grave, Richard 634–635 Greengrass, Mark 400 Greer, Steven 651 Gregor VII, Pope 228 Gregorius, Fredrik 381–382, 384–385, 389, 467–468, 472 Grell, Ole Peter 409, 437 Griffin, David 344 Griffiths, David 617 Grimaldi, Count 16 Groddeck, George 206 Grof, Stanislav 197 Grønbech Døderlein, Jens 269, 283 Grotenfelt, Arvi 500 Grundtvig, N.F.S. 368 Guenon, René 615, 618, 626–627 Gummesson, Gurli 525 Gunnarsson, Anna Wager 58–59 Gurdjieff, George Ivanovitch 293, 324–325 Gustafsson, Ingemar 586 Gustavus II Adolphus of Sweden 79, 82, 84, 138, 189, 193, 218, 390 Gustavus IV Adolphus of Sweden 174 Gustavus III of Sweden 20, 85, 141, 152. 173–174, 241, 247–249, 538–541 Gyldenløve, Ulrik Frederik 15 Gyllenstierna, Maria 173 Haabjørn, Gyda 573 Haarvard, Johannes 445–447 Hacqvart, Christian 12 Hageby, Lizzy Lind af 527 Hagelin, Astrid 611 Hagen, Kaare 481, 488 Häger, Andreas 479–480 Häggkvist, Martin 617 Hahn, Petrus 240, 414 Häll, Jan 20, 24, 223, 227, 246, 253, 538–539, 547, 551 Halldin, Johan Gustaf 538–540

Index of Names Halldorf, Peter 144 Halle, Bertil 291 Hallenberg, Jonas 224 Hallgren, Henrik 383 Hallio, Kustaa 124–125 Hamilton, Alaistair 427–430 Hammer, Christopher 28 Hammer, Olav 2, 9, 209–210, 318, 350, 354, 356, 358 Hanegraaff, Wouter J. 1, 10, 292, 300, 330, 342, 349, 437, 444, 462, 552 Hänninen, Kirsti 649 Hannula, Johan Rikhard 597 Hansen, Carl 267, 272, 275, 277, 289, 521 Hansen, Carl V. 89–90 Hansen, Carl William (Ben Kadosh) 17, 213, 319–320, 323, 466, 472 Hansen, Jan-Erik Ebbestad 57, 135 Hansen, Oskar Borgman 43, 45–48 Hansen, Torgeir S. 653 Hansen, Truls Lynne 77 Hansen, Uffe 268, 283 Hansen, Vilfred T. 372, 379 Hansson, Stina 87 Hansteen, Asta 509–510, 516, 519 Hansteen, Christopher 271, 509 Harald III of Denmark 228 Harmainen, Antti 505 Harms, Daniel 337, 342 Harner, Michael 354–355, 377, 379 Härnqvist, Vilhelm 581 Hartley, Thomas 141 Hartley, William 583 Hartlib, Samuel 395 Hartman, Jon 155 Hartmann, Franz 445 Hartmann, Johann 26, 28–30, 406, 420 Hartveit, Karl M. 379 Harvey, Graham 360, 365 Hätönen, Paula 98, 103 Hauge, Bjørn Gitle 653 Hauge, Hans Nielsen 129, 422 Haugen, Marcello 53, 456–457 Haunstrup, Toke 632 Havsbøl, Rolf 593 Hay, Louise 313 Heber, Lilly 572–575, 577 Hedberg, Björn 87

675 Hedberg, Cia 586 Hedlund, Mikael 346 Hedlund, Torsten 523 Heelas, Paul 350, 357–358, 466 Hegel, G.W.F. 116–117, 131–132 Heiberg, Johan Ludvig 414 Heiberg, Johanne Luise 414 Heikkinen, Antero 241–242 Heilund, Jan Bertil 659 Heiming, Hubi (Shendo) 298 Heindel, Augusta Voss 97 Heindel, Max (Carl Louis von Grasshoff) 89, 97, 445–447 Heino, Harri 98–100, 103, 157–158, 161, 324, 330, 361, 365, 448–452, 475, 480, 504–505 Heinola, Seppo 645–646, 649 Heldvad, Niels 66 Helgesen, Poul (Paulus Helie) 64 Hell, Maximilian 71 Hellberg, Johan Carl 522 Helveg, Hans Zacharias 268 Hemmingsen, Niels 68, 433 Henningsen, Gustav 234–235 Henningsen, Peter 409 Herbach, Casper 14–15 Hermansen, Bo Dahl 263, 591, 594 Hermelin, Eric 143–144 Hermonen, Merja 477, 479–480 Herrlin, Axel 524 Hertzberg, Niels 271 Hertzberg, Rafael 236, 242 Heuch, J.C. 77, 283 Heurgren, Paul 251 Hiärne, Urban 30, 36–37, 82, 193, 418, 429 Hilli, Johannes 564 Hindmarsh, Robert 540 Hinge, Helle 202, 297, 300 Hippocrates 408, 412–413 Hitchock, Ethan Allen 41 Hitler, Adolf 299 Hjelm, Titus 360–361, 363–366, 474, 476, 478–481 Hjelmborg, Johan 91, 96–97 Hjelmeus, Helge 109 Hjern, Olle 543, 551 Hjort, Sune 663–665 Hjort, Stig Dankert 210 Hobenfeldt, Anton Hoberweschel 428

676 Hoburg, Christian (Praetorius) 113, 419, 421 Hodne, Ørnulf 519 Hødnebø, Finn 76 Høffding, Harald 205 Hoffmann, Johan Mauritz 30 Hohlenberg, Johannes 44 Høier, Edgar 45 Holen, Are 308 Holm, Jette 294, 300 Holm, Nils G. 452 Holm, R.A. 268 Holst, Frederik 269–270, 283 Holst, Peter 464, 472 Hoover, Stewart M. 365 Hope, Elisabeth 523 Hope, Ingvild 572–575, 577 Hope, William 524 Hoppe, Geoffrey 594, 601 Horjander, Martta 597 Hörman, Ernst 283 Horst, Daniel 406 Horst, Gregor 407 Horwitz, Jonathan 355 Høst, Anette 355 Houlberg, Claus 91–92 Houlberg, Laila 92 Howitz, State G. 544 Høygaard, Arne 281 Hugh of St. Victor 27 Hund, Karl Gotthelf von 148, 171, 177 Huovinen, Kalevi 161 Hus, Jan 190, 426 Husén, Torsten 397, 400 Huss, Boaz 217, 221, 225, 227, 323, 473 Huth, Sophus von 277, 283 Hybel, Nils 409 Hynek, Allan J. 651 Hynnilä, Enoch 124 Iamblichus 190, 490 Idel, Moshe 225 Imerslund, Per 368 Ingerslev, Emmerik 76 Intelhus, Bjørn (Shekiah Ray-EL) 656 Introvigne, Massimo 343, 349, 453, 459, 462 Irvine, Doreen 481 Irving, Gertrude 529 Isaksson, Ray 327

Index Of Names Isogaeus, Simon 85, 87 Isthmenius, Isaacus 426 Iversen, Erik 188 Iversen, M. 574 Jabukowski-Tiessen, Manfred 117 Jacobsen, Brian 355 Jacobsen, Hans S. 368 Jacobsen, Lis 229, 234 Jäderberg, Gittan 469 Jæger, Oskar 513 Jakobsen, Merete Demant 354, 355, 358 James I of England 236, 242 Janov, Arthur 198–199, 316 Jantsang, Tani 469–470 Jarlert, Anders 437 Jarlum, Gry Jannicke 304, 654, 659 Jarving, Stein (Dalula) 373, 379 Jennings, John 152 Jensen, Ann Lund 296, 300 Jensen, Børge 657 Jensen, Carl V. 97 Jensen, Charles Bonde 556 Jensen, Harald 494 Jensen, J.P. 277, 283 Jensen, Jens 66 Jensen, Jeppe Sinding 97 Jensen, Karl Åge 91–93, 97 Jensen, P.J. 188 Johan, Jacob Jr. 38 Johannessen, Axel Theodor 269–270, 283 Johannessen, F.E. 32 Johannisson, Karin 268, 285–289, 291 Johansen, Jens Christian Vesterskov 235 Johanssén, Christian 22, 538 Johansson, Anders B. 663 Johansson, Erik 315 Johansson, Eva 315 Johansson, Per (Robbin Peer) 294 Johansson, Petra 468 Johansson, Rita (Ritazol) 294 Johansson, Sture 316 John XXIII (Pope) 633 Johnsen, Lillemor 200 Johnson, Martin 208, 210 Jonson, Bert Yoga 105, 112 Jonsson, Ante 663, 665 Jönsson, Augusta 525

Index of Names Jonsson, Inge 547 Jormola, Jukka 51 Judge, William Quan 563–564, 571, 580, 585, 595 Jung, Carl Gustav 197, 200, 203–211, 316, 584 Jungqvist, Boris 663 Junus, Petra 209, 210 Jürgenson, Friedrich 531 Kääriäinen, Kimmo 305 Kaggerud, Egil 77 Kahl, Achatius 545 Kallenberg, Karl O. 524 Kallestrup, Louise Nyholm 235 Kalliala, Mari 326, 330 Kallinen, Maija 24, 416 Kalvig, Anne 309, 312 Kalvik, Finn 650 Kamadon, Alton 214 Kananen, Marko 649 Kangas, David 117 Kaplan, Jeffrey 362, 365–366 Karadja, Mary 527 Kardec, Allan 494–495, 503, 507–508, 516, 522, 532 Kardos, Ursula 112 Kariveri, Ahti 643 Karlsen, Ole 135 Karlsen, Runar 339 Karlsson, Blanka 400 Karlsson, Thomas 138, 144, 225, 227, 322, 347–349 Kärmäki, Jakob 125 Kastrup, Poul 89–90, 633 Kassinen, Aino 326–327, 330 Kataja, Ensio 328–330 Keilhau, B.M. 270 Keitel, Martin 647, 649 Kellgren, Johan Henric 287, 539, 541 Kempe, Anders Pedersson 27–28, 31, 138, 422 Kemper, Johan 221 Kepler, Johannes 427 Kervinen, Timo 242 Ketola, Kimmo 98, 301–305, 503, 505 Kexlerus, Simon S. 83, 87 Khunrath, Heinrich 425 Kierkegaard, Søren 44, 117, 548

677 Kiira, Maire 501, 504 Kiiskinen, Tehri 87, 416 Kilcher, Andreas B. 342 Kinell, Gustaf 58–59, 583, 586 King, George 635, 641 King Diamond 464 Kinnander, Magnus 181 Kiørboe, William 633 Kircher, Athanasius 30, 410, 414, 418, 440 Kirk, Birthe 91–92, 94, 97 Kirk, Eleanor 105, 112 Kirk MacNulty, W. 161 Kirkebø, Synnøve 519, 570–575, 577 Kirsebom, André 91, 97, 517 Kirsebom, Louise 91, 96, 97 Kivi, Aleksis 549, 550 Kjærgaard, Peter 468, 472 Kjar, Gregers 447 Klein, Birgit 298, 360 Klein, Gottlieb 524 Klemming, G.E. 87, 430, 444 Klingborg, Arne 45–46, 61–62 Klingenstierna, Erik Gustav 522–523 Klint, Hilma af 523, 525–527 Klosterberg, Brigitte 117 Kløvedal, Knus (Premda) 298 Kluge, Carl Alexander Ferdinand 268–269, 271, 273 Knaffl-Granström, Edith 59 Kneipp, Sebastian 277 Knoche, Grace F. 582 Knös, Anders 537 Knös, Beta 540 Knutar, Helmer 49 Knutsson, Helena 199 Knutsson, Lars 199 Koch, Carl Henrik 117 Koch, Peter Didrik 268 Koettingen, E.A. 325–326 Kofoed, Steen 297–298, 300 Koivula, Tapani 644–645, 649 Koivunen, Helmi 304, 306 Kokkinen, Nina 550–551 Kollinius, Anders 537 Komensky, Jan Amos, see Comenius König, Karl 50 König, Peter Robert 323 Korschelt, Oskar 278–279, 283

678 Kotkavuori, Tapio 478, 480 Kotter, Christopher 415 Koskela, Olavi 326, 330 Kraft, Siv Ellen 367, 379, 575, 577 Krag, Anders 405 Krag, Niels 405 Krag, Thomas 132 Kragh, Helge 32, 69, 188, 423 Kranenborg, Reender 318, 462 Kreisel, Howard 227 Krippner, Stanley 291 Krishnamurti, Jiddu 260, 450, 555, 556, 573–575, 584, 592, 595, 608 Kröger, Casper 12 Krohn, Eino 449, 452 Krohn, Helmi 324, 499, 501 Krzywinski, Therese 367, 379 Kuha, Tarvo 449, 452 Kühle, Caroline 43 Kuhleman, Bertil 664 Kulovesi, Yrjö 203 Kündig, Heinrich 90–91, 96–97 Kuningas, Arja 643 Kuningas, Tapani 362, 643 Kunkel, Johan 30, 418 Kupiainen, Jari 306 Kuusela, Matti 51 Kvist, H.-O. 125 Laasonen, Pentti 126 Lachman, Gary V. 331 Lactantius 419 Læsøe, Kathrine 262–263 Lagerkvist, Bengt 624 Lagerlööf, Petrus 83, 87 Lahdenmäki, Echo 306 Lahtinen, M. 125 Lamberg, Eric 536 Lamm, Martin 42, 171, 181, 242, 253, 547 Landsy, Ingelise 299 Landsy, Steen 299–300, 637 Lange, Erik 12, 404 Langen, U. 499 Langkow, Knud 465 Laine, Esko M. 125–126 Laine, Tuija 125 Lap, Amina Olander 463, 465, 468–472, 481, 488

Index Of Names Larsson, Erica 110 Larsson, Erik Gerner 257 Larsen, Alf 54 Larsen, Øivind 283 Larsen, Robin 552 Las Casas, Sebastian de 178 Latini, Claudio 516 Latini, Maria Cristina Xavier 516 Laugerud, Henning 423 Laurbeccius, Petrus 415 Laurency, Henry T., see Zeipel, Hugo von Laurento, Maarit 101 Laurin, Marit 60 Lausten, Martin Schwarz 117 Lavater, Johan Casper 265 LaVey, Anton Szandor 377, 342, 349, 468–471, 474–475, 477–478, 480, 483–187, 489–491 Law, William 127 Leadbeater, Charles W. 293, 592, 599, 606, 608, 613 Leade, Jane 119, 121 Leer-Salvesen, Paul 311 Leegaard, Christopher Blom 274–275 Lehmann, Alfred 275, 496, 498 Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm von 37 Leijonhufvud, Axel Gabriel 152, 171 Lein, Bente Nilsen 519 Lein, Johan 656–658 Lejon, Håkan 63, 586 Lekeby, Kjell 7, 10, 20, 24, 79, 82, 87, 88, 171, 181, 222, 242, 247–248, 250, 253 Lemvig, Anders 405 Lenhammar, Harry 181, 537, 539–540, 547, 552 Leon, Moses de 215 Leowitz, Cardano 74 Leowitz, Cyprian 74, 76, 427 Leslie, Desmond 642, 646 Leslie, Michael 400 Lester, Caignet de 177 Levander, Caroline 385–386, 389 Lévi, Eliphas (Alphonse Louise Constant) 213, 224, 466 Levi, Geir Nilsen 488 Levison, Gumpertz 20 Levry, Joseph Michael 225, 227

679

Index of Names Lewis, James R. 9, 350, 358, 360, 365, 471, 472 Lewis, Harvey Spencer 344, 445–447, 453, 460 Lewis, Ralph Maxwell 459–460 Libavius, Andreas 13, 406–408, 434, 437 Lie, Harald 338, 342 Liébault, Ambroise-Auguste 290 Lieroinen, Antti 240 Lilius, Margit 642, 643 Lilje, C.A. 108, 112 Liljeblad, Martin 529–530 Liljegren, Jonas 348–349 Liljemark, David 283 Liljeroth, Ingrid 63 Limbeck, Sven 17 Lina, Jüri 656, 666 Lindahl, Hillevi (Gertrud Bengtsson) 611 Lindberg, Carter 438 Lindberg, Gunnar 600 Lindbom, Tage 617, 627–628 Lindefjeld, Nanna 512, 519 Linder, Leif 110 Linderholm, Emanuel 87, 119, 125, 252–253 Linderman, Alf 360, 365 Lindgren, Sten 663–664 Lindh Jørgensen, Mathilde 562 Lindmarck, C.G. 522 Lindquist, Galina 349 Lindroos, Helge 644 Lindroth, Sten 42, 78, 87, 137, 139, 144, 194, 401, 416, 430, 444 Lindström, Hans 586 Linné, Carl von 18, 85 Lithberg, Nils 87 Ljungberg, Israel 279 Ljungman, Ulrika 143, 144 Ljungqvist, Gustaf 58, 108 Ljungqvist, Hans 207, 210 Llull, Ramon 186 Lochmann, Ernst Ferdinand 274–275, 283 Lodge, Oliver 513 Lohmann, Hartvig 407 Loimaranta, Sakari 125 Løken, Kjersti 453, 462 Lomborg, Birgit 590 Long, James 582–583 Longomontanus 73, 76

Lönnrot, Elias 565 Lönnroth, Oskar 564 Løøv, Margrethe 308, 312 Lorentsen, Asger 297, 300, 588–589 Losman, Arne 79, 88 Lotich, Michael 427 Louis XVI of France 174 Lovecraft, H.P. 336–338, 622 Lövheim, Mia 360, 365 Løw, Bernhard 43–44 Løwendahl, Dorthe Hein 262–263 Lully, Marc 320 Lund, Tore 586 Lundin, Claes 223, 227 Lundgren, Eva 492–493 Lundstedt, Göran 552 Lundström, Ann 614 Luther, Martin 123, 138, 182, 190, 393, 402, 426, 431–432, 435–436 Luukanen-Kilde, Rauni-Leena 648–649, 651, 654 Luukkanen, Tarja-Liisa 124–125 Lyng, Georg Vilhelm 132, 135 Lynn, Steven Jay 291 Maeder, Alphonse 204 Magee, Mike 338 Magini, Giovanni 68 Magirus, Johannes 80 Magnusson, Sven 314 Maharishi Mahesh Yogi 307–308 Mahlamäki, Tiina 500, 505, 550, 552 Maier, Michael 333, 442 Maldini 16 Mallander, J.O. 306 Malmenius, Nicolaus L. 82 Mandragora, Alice 465 Manicus, Claus 268 Mann, Tad 91 Manninen, Juha 125 Mansa, F.W. 17, 268 Mansikka, Tomas 500, 505, 550, 552 Månsson, Peder 33 Marais 286 Marcher, Lisbeth 200 Marcuse, F.L. 268 Marriage, Sophia 365 Marsh, Phil 469–470

680 Martensen, Hans Lassen 117–117, 131, 135, 494 Martikainen, Tuomas 304, 306 Martinus (Thomsen) 2, 9, 254–263, 293, 299, 315–316, 591 Märtha Louise of Norway (Princess) 310, 516, 519–520 Maslow, Abraham 195, 197 Mathers, Samuel L. MacGregor 250 Matsyendranath 338 Matthiae, Johannes 394, 396–397, 401 Maximilian II, Holy Roman Emperor 76 May, Rollo 195 Mayer, Jean-François 7, 10 Mazel, Adriaan 599, 607 McMurtry, Grady (Hymenæus Alpha) 332, 334 McNallen, Stephen 354 Meddaour, Josef Ben 490 Mehren, Stein 133, 134–135 Mehren, Tonje Maria 283, 519 Meijer, Bernhard 112 Melanchthon, Philipp 64–65, 68, 403, 432 Meldgaard, Helle 461 Meller, Leo 474, 480, 647 Melton, J. Gordon 453, 462 Merikallio, Arvi 642–643, 646 Mero, Vuokko 304, 306 Meisner, Balthasar 237 Meister Eckhart 116, 134 Menius, Friedrich 192–194 Mennander, Carl Fredrik 18–19, 40 Mesmer, Franz Anton 264–291, 521 Meyer, Eduard 664 Meyer, Johanne 554 Mikaelsson, Lisbeth 57, 284, 312, 367, 379, 453, 462, 519, 577 Milles, Carl 531 Mirandola, Giovanni Pico della 191, 212, 219, 248 Mitchell, Jolyon 365 Mitchell, Stephen A. 235 Mizaldus, Antonius 75 Moberg, Kerstin Uvnäs 209–210 Mogstad, Sverre Dag 165, 167 Møller, Ingeborg 53–54 Monrad, Marcus Jacob 132, 135 Monsen, Nina Karin 519

Index Of Names Moore, Bob 200, 296 Moreira, Alfonso 499 Morgan, John 616 Mørk, Gry 464, 472 Mortensson-Egnund, Ivar 54 Morsius, Joachim 428 Morsund, Tord 616, 618–620 Moustgaard, I.K. 499 Moynihan, Michael 483, 488 Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus 149 Muhl, Lars 297, 300 Müller, Bente 309, 516, 519 Müller, Johann Daniel 178 Müller-Vestermann, Iris 533 Munch, Edvard 333, 548–549 Munch, Peter A. 368 Munck, Adolph Fredrik 21, 241, 247 Munk, Kirsten 435 Munk, Kirstine 95, 97 Munk, Marina 657 Munkø, Frank 296 Munksgaard Berg, Isabel 320–321, 467 Munthelius, Johannes 237 Münther, Friedrich 149–150 Murphy, Michael 196 Murray, Margaret 374 Mustelin, Nils 103 Mynsicht, Hadrianus 29–30 Næsgaard, Sigurd 203, 205 Næss, Arne 308 Næss, Atle 333 Narrow, Morton H. 225 Närvä, Jaakko 644, 649 Naschert, Guido 117 Neiiendam, Robert 499 Nessling, Bo 110, 112 Nattergal, Peder (Petrus de Dacia) 70 Natvig, Richard 284 Needleman, Jacob 325, 330 Neergard, Wilhelm Matthias 147 Nekton, Toivo H. 154–155 Nenonen, Marko 242 Neumann, Erich 206 Neutzsky-Wulff, Erwin 216, 217, 321–322, 323, 468, 472 Neval, Daniel A. 401 Newman, William R. 416

Index of Names Nibelvang, Lars 254–255 Nicolaisen, Edith 662 Nicolaus de Dacia 64 Nielsen, Charlotte Guldberg 593–594 Nielsen, Einer 497–499 Nielsen, Ernst 575 Nielsen, Ragna 512–513, 516, 519 Nielsen, Ruth Wessel 575 Niemelä, Jussi 366 Niemelä, Kati 305 Nikula, Raimo 101–102 Nilsson, Albert 142, 144 Nilsson, Emma Mathilda 523 Nilssøn, Jens 71–73, 74, 76–77 Nilsson, Johan Ragnar 525 Nilsson, Rut 399, 401 Nobel, Agnes 63 Nödtveidt, Jon 490 Norberg, Karin 346 Norden, F.L. 188 Nordenberg, Magnus Otto 19–20, 40 Nordeng, Elisabeth (Samnøy) 310, 516, 519 Nordenmark, N.V.E. 83, 88 Nordenskjöld, Adolf Gustaf 287 Nordenskjöld, August 20–21, 24, 40–41, 247, 538–539 Nordenskjöld, Carl Fredrik 19 Nordenskjöld, Carl Fredrik Jr. 20, 286, 538–540 Nordenskjöld, Ulrik 20 Nordgarden, Knut Rasmussen (Vis-Knut) 273–274 Nordgren, Karin 109 Nordling, Iiro 326, 330 Nordqvist, Gösta 205 Nordström, Johan 83, 87–88, 194, 392, 401, 427–428, 430 Norén, Anna Maria 195 Norrelius, Andreas 221 Norrgård, Jakob 124 Noshie, Saleh 575 Nostradamus 648 Nyberg, Folke 153–154, 161 Nyborg, Eigil 205 Obstfelder, Sigbjørn 132 Odal 470, 472 Oddmund, Hjelde 135 Oehlenschläger, Adam 266

681 Oelreich, Niklas von 39–40 Oetinger, Friedrich Christoph 141 Oja, Linda 221, 227, 244–245, 253 Olai, Georgius 82, 88 Olavinen, Juha 301, 306 Olcott, Henry Steel 563–566, 570, 577, 580, 587, 595 Olsen, Hans 27–28, 31, 128, 419, 422 Olvik, Ole 277, 283–294 Önnerfors, Andreas 167 Origanus, David 74–75 Origen 134 Orr, Leonard 199, 315 Ørsted, Hans Christian 265 Örtenheim, Björn 663 Osho, Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh 197, 199–200, 310, 316 Østergaard, Karen 45 Österman, Hugo 156 Otto, Bernd-Christian 244, 252 Øverby, Rune 654–659 Overskou, Thomas 499 Oxenstierna, Axel 249, 394–399 Oxenstierna, Johan Gabriel 41, 86, 171, 248, 390 P-Orridge, Genesis 340 Paasche, Fredrik 284 Pade, Mikkel 195, 354, 358 Paijkull, Otto Arnold von 36–37 Pajula, J.S. 126 Paletz, Michael 238 Palladius, Peder 12, 68, 228–229 Palma, Hugh of 27 Palomaa, Veikko 566–567 Pandora 385–386, 389 Panduro, Leif 205 Paracelsus (Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim) 6, 12–13, 19, 27–28, 30, 36–37, 73–74, 79–81, 128, 130–131, 138, 183–187, 189, 219, 234, 402–430, 433, 435 Paramahansa Yogananda 293 Parfitt, Will 225 Parmann, Øisten 53, 57 Partridge, Christopher 646, 649 Pasi, Marco 217, 323, 473 Pasqually, Martines de 177, 343, 461

682 Patrizi, Francesco 421 Paulsen, Åshild 134, 423 Pavels, Claus 271, 284 Payngk, Peter 13–14, 407–408 Pearson, Joanne 364, 366 Pedersen, Bjarne Salling 217, 320–321, 323, 467 Pedersen, Christiern 182 Pedersen, Faustinus Edelberg (Faustinus) 275, 284 Pedersen, Johannes 118 Pedersen, Jørgen 118 Pedersen, Kim Møller 469, 472 Pedersen, Laurids Højbjerg 91 Pedersen, Rene Dybdal 262, 350, 352, 354–358, 562, 588, 594 Pedersen, Svend 355 Pedersøn, Christen 464 Pekonen, Kyösti 330, 365 Pellert, Tom 645 Pelletier, Jacob 76 Penn, William 120 Peringer, Laurentius Fredrik 36 Perls, Fritz 196–197 Pernety, Dom Antoine Joseph 38, 40, 178 Persson, Bertil 614 Petander, Einar 586 Peters, Alfred Vout 528 Petersen, H.C. 632–634, 636, 650 Petersen, Jesper Aagaard 463–464, 466, 469, 471–473, 488, 491, 493 Petersen, Martinus Kris 635 Petersen, Peter Marius 508–509, 519 Petersen, René Dybdal 300, 358, 562, 588, 594 Petræus, Heinrich 406, 418 Pettersen, Arnfinn 659 Pettersen, Roald 311 Peucer, Caspar 75 Peuckert, Will-Erich 394 Pfeiff, Victor 578 Pfister, Oskar 203 Philalethes, Eirenaeus 19, 21–22, 41 Piaget, Jean 401 Piper, Johan Peter 114 Pippin, Per Aspaas 77 Pirinen, Juhani 304, 306 Pizza, Murphy 350, 358

Index Of Names Plaami, Aulikki 502 Plaami, Seppo 502 Plato 186, 190, 419 Plaustrarius, Johannes 427 Plommenfelt, Carl Anders 21, 171, 248, 521 Poe, Edgar Allan 548–549 Pohjolan-Pirhonen, Holger 126 Polhem, Christopher 40 Pollard, John 167 Poniatowska, Christina 398 Poonjaji 316 Pordage, John 119, 121, 124 Porphyry 190 Porta, Giambattista 18, 237 Posse, Knut 168 Postel, Guillaume 220 Poterius, Petrus 29 Pratensis, Johannes (Hans Philipsen du Pre) 183, 403–406, 433 Preisz, Daniel 268 Prel, Karl du 508–509 Price, Harry 514, 519 Price, Richard 196, 198 Price, Robert C. 342 Prideaux, Sue 549, 552 Proclus 190, 419 Prophet, Elizabeth Clare 593, 603–604 Prophet, Mark 593, 600, 611 Przybyszewski, Stanislaw 333, 466 Psellus, Michael 190 Psilander, N.G. 529 Ptolemy 81 Purucker, Gottfried de 582–583 Purver, Marjory 194 Puujumala, Erkki 240 Puységur, de, Armand Marie Jacques Chastenet 264 Quercetanus (Joseph Duchesne) 13, 28, 30, 418 Råberg, Herman 126 Radclyffe, Charles, Earl of Derwentwater 168 Ræder, Hans 17, 69, 188 Raicus, Johannes 413, 425 Raihle, Håkan 209 Rajamaa, Ruth 210

Index of Names Raknes, Ola 279 Ram, N. Sri 558, 584 Ramsden, Hermione 511, 513 Ramstedt, Maria 566 Ramus, Petrus 76 Randolph, Paschal Beverly 343 Rasmussen, Anna Melloni 497 Rasmussen, H.P. 44 Rasmussen, Tarald 76 Ravn, A. 499 Raylor, Timothy 400 Rebisse, Christian 459, 462 Regardie, Israel 215 Regiomontanus, Johannes 74 Rehbinder, Carl Johan 382 Rehnström, Joel 642 Reich, Wilhelm 197, 201, 205–206, 279 Reichenbach, Karl von 273, 277–278 Rein, Gabriel 241–242 Reinhold, Erasmus 73 Reiserøl, Lois 201 Reiserøl, Odd 201 Reiter, Paul J. 268 Renatus, Sincerus 440, 442 Repo, Matti 416 Reponen, Oskar 501 Repstad, Pål 458, 462 Resen, Hans Poulsen 434 Reuchlin, Johannes 130, 191, 212, 219, 426, 441 Reuss, Theodor 225, 314, 320, 335, 339 Reuterholm, Esbjörn Christian 19 Reuterholm, Gustav Adolph 19, 41, 86, 169, 171, 173–174, 180–181, 221, 223, 241, 246–251, 253 Reuterholm, Nils Jacob 442 Reuterskiöld, Sonja 664 Reventlow, Christian Ditlev 16 Rhodius, Ambrosius 28, 73–74, 76, 184, 407, 420 Richardson, James T. 480 Richmond, Cora L.V. 524 Richnau, Svea 501 Richter, C.F. 115 Richter, Jean Paul 271 Rigmor, Robèrt 210 Riikonen, Eija 644 Riikonen, Kalevi 644, 649

683 Riis-Magnussen, Henry 43 Rijckenborg, Jan van 447 Ringius, Nicolaus 82, 88 Rinne, Riku 476, 480 Rinta-Nikkola, Samuel 124–125 Ripley, George 19 Rittelmeyer, Friedrich 58 Ritter, Charlotte 60 Ritter, Gustav 60 Ritterband, Monica 468, 473 Roberg, Lars 18 Robertson, Roland 2, 10 Rodhe, Edvard 586 Rogers, Carl 195 Rønne-Petersen, Egil 204, 206,-207, 210 Rönnerstrand, Torsten 209, 211 Rørdam, H.F. 118, 135 Rose, Jonathan S. 551–552 Rosen, Georg von 524 Rosén, Jerker 551 Rosén, Johan 536–537 Rosén, Sven 140, 142 Rosenkrantz, Erik 15 Rosenkrantz, Holger 436 Rosenroth, Christian Knorr von 29, 417–418, 441 Rosenstein, Nils von 541 Rosmund, Ove (Rosmon) 89, 97 Rothovius, Isaacus 236, 238 Rothstein, Mikael 292–293, 300, 318, 462 Rountree, Kathryn 389 Rous, Francis 27, 128 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 628 Röyhkä, Kauko 474–475 Rudenschiöld, Ulrik 39 Rudbeck, Olaus 34 Rudbeckius, Johannes 83 Rudin, Waldemar 142 Rudolph II, Holy Roman Emperor 13, 212 Ruland, Martin, the Elder 26, 28–30, 418 Runeberg, Johan Ludvig 549–550 Russell, Cecil Frederick 340 Russell, Peter 210 Russell-Møller, John 355 Ruuth, Martti 126, 416 Rydberg, Viktor 522, 578–579 Ryn, Claes G. 628–629 Ryti, Gerda 501

684 Ryti, Risto

Index Of Names 156, 501

Sabin, Thea 373, 379 Sabro, Axel 510, 519 Sælensminde, Nils 650 Saint-Germain, Count 16 Saint-Martin, Louis Claude de 142, 343, 461 Sala, Angelo 26, 29–30, 420 Salingre, Axel 154 Salingre, Gösta 154 Sallert, Ulla 105, 112 Salmesvuori, Päivi 125 Salomonsen, Jone 376, 379 Salvius, Johan Adler 193 Samuelsson, Bengt 586 Sandblad, Henrik 82, 88 Sandblad, Peter 314 Sandemo, Margit 309 Sanner, Inga 533, 586 Sascerides, Gellius 405 Sauso, Michel (Mikko) 124 Schäfer, Peter 22, 119–121, 123, 139, 415 Schager, Henrik 143 Scharff, Hans Jochum 26, 31, 420–421 Scharling, C. Henrik 131, 135 Scheffer, Carl Fredrick 168–169 Scheibe, Johan Adolph 146 Scheible, J. 242 Scheldrup, Michael 271 Schelling, Friedrich W.J. 117, 124, 142 Schepelern, H.D. 17, 438 Schildknecht, Johan Albert 522 Schioldann, Johan 499 Schiøtt, Anna 592 Schiøtz, Cato 54, 57 Schjelderup, Harald 203, 282 Schjelderup, Kristian 202 Schmeling, Max 469–470 Schmidt, Frederik 271, 284 Schmidt, Gudrun Marie 465, 473 Schmidt, Joachim 464, 473 Schmidt, Ulla 311 Schmitz, Oscar A.H. 205, 211 Schneeberg, Hiebner von 75 Schneider, Heinrich 428, 430 Schofield, Clark 365 Scholem, Gershom 211, 223, 227 Schomerus, Petrus A. 82, 88

Schönbeck, Carl Gustaf 289 Schönherr, Carl Johan 542 Schott, Caspar 418–419 Schubart, Johan Christian 148 Schubert, L. 522 Schuchard, Marsha Keith 24 Schuon, Fritjof 618, 627 Schuré, Édouard 293 Schutz, William 196 Schröder, Johannes 26, 29–30 Schwarzkopf, Edvard 74 Schwenckfeld, Caspar 120, 421 Schybergson, Carl Magnus 238, 243 Scott, Gabriel 132–133, 135 Scribonius, Wilhelm 75 Seagrief, Derek 91, 215 Sederholm, Carl Robert 563 Segelcke, Wilhelm 515, 520 Sehested, Hannibal 15, 422 Seiling, Max 58 Sejersted, Jørgen Magnus 136, 423 Selander, Sven 592, 607 Sendivogius, Michael 21, 37, 427–429 Sennert, Daniel 14, 18, 29–30, 410, 412–415, 425–426 Seppo, Juha 363, 366 Sérusier, Paul 549 Sevänen, Erkki 306 Severinus, Petrus (Peder Sørensen) 6, 183–186, 403–409, 414, 420, 433 Shackelford, Jole 32, 77, 409, 424, 437 Shakti Gawain 313 Sheba, Lady 379 Shedd, Jonathan 327–328, 330, 602 Sheldrake, Rupert 652 Shotwell, Stuart 551–552 Shri Dadaji Mahendra Nath 338 Sibbern, Fredrik Christian 266 Sibelius, Jean 155 Siersbæk, Benny 593–594 Sigstedt, Cyriel O. 552 Siitoin, Pekka 326–328, 330, 475, 598–599 Silesius, Angelus (Johann Scheffler) 115 Silfverhielm, Carl Göran 178, 291 Simberg, Hugo 549–550 Simon 337, 342 Simonsen, Terje G. 57 Siren, Osvald 586

Index of Names Sixtus, Carl 274 Sixtus V, Pope 69 Sjallung, Grunddal 320–321 Sjöberg, Arne 381 Sjöblom, Tom 360–362, 364, 366 Sjöstedt, Carl I. 508 Skaanes, Per Jakob 136 Skagen, Kaj 54 Skeie, J. 32 Skomager Hans Rasmussen (Johannes Erasmi Hafniensis) 12 Skott, Fredrik 381, 389 Skov, Hans 408 Sky, Jeanette 520 Skytte, Bengt 192, 194, 397 Skytte, Johan 189, 249, 345, 397, 425–426 Slade, Henry 507, 510 Smit, Jørgen 46, 62 Smoley, Richard 537, 552 Snellman, Christian Henrik 124 Snellman, Johan Vilhelm 51, 124–126 Snitkjær, Aage 469, 473 Söderblom, Nathan 58, 530 Söderling, Carl 525 Söderlund, Irving 455, 459 Söderlund, Live 455, 459 Söderström, Isabella 195 Sofia Magdalena of Sweden 173 Sohlberg, Jussi 195, 330, 361, 365 Solitander, Axel 155 Solum, Øyvind 195, 201, 211 Søderlind, Didrik 471, 473, 482–483, 486, 488 Sørensen, Arthur 377, 379 Sørensen, Eli H. 571, 577 Sørensen, Ernst 45 Sørensen, Lars Munk 464, 473 Sørensen, Marie Sisse 469, 473 Sørensen, Preben 559–560 Sorolainen, Ericus Erici 236 Southgate, Troy 616, 620 Spare, Austin Osman 340 Sparre, Agnes Martens 573 Spener, Philipp Jakob 120, 436 Sperling, Johannes 410, 414 Sperling, Otto 26 Spies, Johann 464 Spinoza, Baruch 133

685 Spole, Anders 84, 88 Sprengel, Kurt Polycarp 408 Sri Chinmoy 313 Staats, Reinhart 125 Stagnelius, Erik Johan 141 Ståhl, Anna-Brita 208, 211 Ståhl, Bo R. 614 Stahl, Georg 408 Stai, Arne 520 Starhawk (Miriam Simos) 376 Starr, Martin P. 341 Stausberg, Michael 244, 252 Stavnsbjerg, Holger 92–93 Steen, A. 242–243 Steens, Jørgen 263 Steffen, Albert 45 Stead, William 511 Steiger, Brad 654 Steinarsson, Steinar (né Ormerud) 280–281 Steiner, Marie 45, 59 Steiner, Rudolf 9, 45–63, 133, 136, 260, 346, 399, 445–446, 527, 560, 571–572, 591–592 Steinsland, Gro 368, 372, 379 Steinsvik, Martha 53 Stenius, Henrik 153, 161 Stenius, Martinus Olavi 78, 83–84, 88 Steno, Anne Mia 350–351, 356–357, 359 Stenring, Knut 224, 227 Stensen, Niels (Nicolaus Steno) 15, 185 Stenudd, Stefan 105, 111–112 Stephensen, Kaare J.E. 167 Stern, Bengt 200 Stewart, Gary L. 453, 457, 459–460 Stewart, John 116, 117 Stewart, Jon 117 Stiernhielm, Georg 34, 78, 82, 191, 194, 392 Stiernstråle, Johannes Erici 83, 88 Stigsjöö, Staffan 663 Stjernecrantz, Arvid 246 Stjernecrantz, Christer Adrian 246 Stockenström, Göran 546, 552 Stockmann, Camilla 465, 473 Stodius, Martin 237–239 Stöffler, Johannes 68 Stolcius, Daniel 18 Storjohann, Hendrik 276, 507 Stotesbury, John A. 306 Strachen, Joahn Julius von 26

686 Strand, Erling 651–652, 656, 659 Strandiger, Otto Lorentzen 115 Strindberg, August 17, 223, 227, 333, 544, 545–546, 552 Strokirch, Carl Michael von 140 Strömgren, Bengt 17, 69, 188 Strömgren, Elis 17, 69, 188 Strømholm, Folke 658–659 Strømme, Johannes Irgens 203–204, 206, 211 Strømnæss, Tom 517, 520 Strube, Jonna 293–294 Strube, Poul 293–294 Stuart, Charles Edward 168 Stuckrad, Kocku von 217, 323, 473 Sturzen-Becker, Oscar Patric 243 Sturzenbecher, Mårten 287–288 Suchten, Alexander von 420 Sundberg, Per 60, 586 Sundbro, Karin 109, 112 Sundén, Hjalmar 206, 211 Sundmark, Stina Fallberg 552 Sundqvist, G. 528 Sundstrup, Arthur 446, 456 Sunesen, Anders 64, 70 Suolinna, Kirsti 452 Susitaival, Paavo 156 Sylvius, de le Boë 30, 413 Svanberg, Ingvar 349, 493, 665 Svedberg, Jesper 521, 536 Svegning, Peder Olufssøn 128, 136, 423 Sveinall, Arne Tord 312 Svendsen, Christian 555 Svendsen, Niels Chronich 113, 118 Svenonius, Enevald 238 Svensson, Niels 447 Svensson, Sten 181 Svensson, Sven Frederik Fischer 91, 97 Swach, Conrad Nicolai 271 Swami Deva Satyarthi 202 Swedenborg, Emanuel 7–8, 20–21, 23, 39, 40, 85, 124, 141, 189, 286–287, 343, 440, 500, 506, 517, 520–521, 534–553, 625, 638–639 Synnerdahl, Anna 527 Szacinski, Ludwik 275–276 Szalczer, Eszter 586 Szasz, Tomas 206 Szöllösi, Ferenc 90, 97

Index Of Names Szondi, Leopold

206

Takanen, Mirva 305–306 Tandberg, Hans Andreas 281, 284 Tassel, George van 656 Tauler, Johannes 130, 421 Taxil, Leo 466 Tejblum, Jaquelin 299 Telle, Joachim 17, 444 Tenhiälä, Juho 646 Teodorani, Massimo 652–653, 659 Terserus, Johannes 236, 238–239 Tessin, Carl Gustaf 85 Teting, Nicolaus 407 Texeira de Friars, Joao 503 Thanatos, Frater 334 Thauvonius, Abraham 413 Thejls, Sara Møldrup 217, 323, 473 Thiis, Benedicte 201 Thiis, Harald 201 Thölde, Johann 26 Thomas à Kempis 130, 421 Thorson, Edred (Stephen Flowers) 328–329 Thorstensen, Karen-Sofie 654, 659 Thorstensen, Toyah S. 338 Thue, Andreas 26 Thuronius, Andreas 238–239, 414 Thustrup, Henning Carl Ludvig 169–172, 181 Thyberg, Stina 208 Tigerstedt, Robert 416 Tikkanen, Elisa 98, 101–103 Til-landz, Elias 413 Tillhagen, Carl-Herman 88 Tingley, Katherine 8, 581–583 Tjørnum, Gilbert 90, 97 Tode, Johan Clemens 265, 267 Tolle, Eckhart 314 Tøllefsen, Inga Bårdsen 9 Tolstadius, Erik 139–140, 142, 246 Tolstoy, Leo 450 Tompkins, Arthur S. 154 Topi, Topi Aarnio 336 Torgny, Leo 531 Törnebohm, Alfred Elis 522 Torstenson, Bernt Christian Svedrup 276, 282–283, 507–509, 512–513, 519–520, 570 Tørum, Gro-Helen 517–518, 520 Touche, D’Aillant de la 545

687

Index of Names Treschow, Niels 164, 271 Trevisanus, Bernhard 18, 35 Triantafillou, Peter 499 Trismosin, Salomon 239 Trithemius, Johann 421 Trolle, Fredrika Viveka 39 Trollnäs, John 180 Tulk, Johan August 41 Tullmann, Carl Adolph 146 Tuomola, Martti 51 Turck, Johan 422 Turning, Svend 446–447, 455 Tusberg, Harald 515 Tuulse, Lena Kristina 195, 198–199, 202, 315, 318 Tuulse, Tomas 315 Tuxen, Christian 540 Tvedt, Tore W. 372 Tveito, Lill-Hege 368–379 Tveitt, Geirr 368 Tybeck, Johan 538, 541, 543 Überfeld, Jojann Wilhelm 124 Udd, Heli 502, 505 Uddin, Johannes 528 Uhl, Marie 545 Uldal, Geir 312, 342, 367, 379 Uldall, Frederik 638 Ulfvenklou, Henrik Gustaf 41, 246, 248–249, 252, 521 Ulstadius, Lars (Laurentius) 119–121, 123, 139 Unonius, Olavus 426 Ussing, Kristian 465, 472 Ussing, Troels 47 Uzcategui, Óscar 600 Vaczy, Jesper Kragh 499 Vad, Hr. 469–470, 472 Valentinus, Basilius 19, 186 Valerius, Bertha 522–523 Valiente, Doreen 374 Valkner, Kristen 77, 136, 424 van den Broek, Roland 330, 349 van Gogh, Vincent 624 van Helmont, Johann Baptist 26, 28–30, 413, 417–421 Vanloo, Robert 444 Var, Jean-François 177

Vasa, Gustav Eriksson, of Sweden 4, 33 Vedfelt, Lene 200 Vedfelt, Ole 200 Veibel, Stig 409 Vejs-Petersen, Søren 589 Vesenterä, Artturi 599 Viken, Alexander 620 Vikernes, Varg 384, 483–484, 616, 621 Viking, Anna 592 Viking, Otto 557, 592, 607 Vil, Ike 331 Villanova, Arnald of 186 Villoms, Sigbrit 11 Vilstrup, Uffe 562, 590 Vindheim, Jan 333, 342 Virgil 419 Viro, Voitto 647 Vivekananda, Swami 293 Vlad 490 Vollrath, Hugo 445 Vorilhon, Claude 661 Vossius, Isaac 190 Vouis, Alfred 500 Vuorela, Mikkel 634, 639 Vuorila, Heikki 302, 306 Waage, Peter Normann 54, 57 Waal, Nic 279 Wachsmut, Günther 45 Wachtmeister, Constance 579 Wadström, Carl Bernhard 286, 538, 540 Waerland, Are 60, 314 Wahlberg, Clara 58 Wahlström, Lydia 206 Waite, Arthur Edward 349 Wallace, Alfred Russell 508 Walleen-Bornemann, Carl Alphonse 319 Wallem, Fredrik B. 284 Wallen, Carl 44 Wallen, Soffy 44 Wallenberg, Jakob 22–23, 123–125 Wallenkamph, F.C.W. 528 Wallerius, Johan Gottschalk 37–38, 193 Wallis, Roy 649 Wallmann, Johannes 126, 438 Wamberg, Eli 446 Warburg, Margit 359 Waris, Menna 302, 306

688 Wargentin, Wilhelm 240 Warmind, Morten 351, 353–354, 356, 359 Wassenius, Johannes 237 Wassini, Yvonne 588 Wasumäki, Isak 123–124 Wecker, Johan Jackob 26 Wedgwood, James I. 572, 599, 606 Wegge, Erik 340 Wegman, Ita 50 Wegner, Willy 630, 639 Weigel, Valentin 79, 81, 114, 120, 127, 130, 134, 139, 411–412, 415, 421, 431, 433 Weiking, Knud 635–636, 657 Weisæth, Gunnar 76 Weishaupt, Adam 179 Weltheim, Peter von 326–327 Wendell, Alarik 564 Wendt, Christian Wilhelm 266 Wennergren, Kristina 633 Wenngren, Sven 536 Weor, Samael Aun (Victor Manuel Gómez Rodríguez) 224, 600 Wereide, Thorstein 514, 520 Wergeland, Henrik 271 Werlauff, E.C. 17 Werner, Amalia Andrea 525 Westen, Arnoldus von 26 Westen, Thomas von 418 Westerlund, David 349, 493, 665 Wetterstrand, Otto G. 282, 290, 524 Wiberg, Laila 385 Wier, Johannes 240 Wikström, Lester 614 Wilenius, Ajami 51

Index Of Names Wilenius, Reijo 51 Wilhelm, Ivan 108, 110 Wilkinson, James John Garth 545, 552 Willermoz, Jean-Baptiste 177–178, 343, 461 Williams-Hogan, Jane 548–549, 552 Willis, Courtney 337 Wimmer, August 496–497, 499 Winde, Birgitte (Valvanne) 557 Winde, Jørgen 557–558 Wingfield, David 617 Winje, Geir 312, 342, 367, 379, 453, 462 Winther, Christian 497, 499 With, Martin Rasmus 270 Wohl, Louis de 90, 97 Woldenberg, Jacob 28–30, 417 Wolf, Ole 470–471, 473 Wolfart, Karl Christian 269–270 Wolfe, Lola D. 334 Worm, Ole 406–407, 433–434, 438 Wrede Sparre, Axel 168 Wriedt, Etta 511–512 Yates, Frances A. 401, 427, 430, 444 York, Michael 350, 359 Zander, Gustaf 563–564, 578–580 Zeeberg, Peter 409 Zeger, Magdalene 67–68 Zeger, Thomas 68 Zeipel, Hugo von (Henry T. Laurency) 612–613, 664–666 Zettersten, Axel 583 Zetzner, Lazarus 28–29, 418 Zevi, Sabbatai 221 Zinglersen, Sam 263 Zobel, Henriette 296, 300 Zwelfer, Johan 26, 30, 418, 420

of subjects Index ofIndex Subjects

689

Index of Subjects Aarhus Blótlaug 354 adulruna 219, 245 A.E. Carlssons förening 525 Aetherius Society 635, 636 Afspændingspædagogisk Institut, see Skolen for Kropsdynamik Agni Vajra Yama Grand Lodge 338–339 Alchemy 75, 80, 82, 85, 105, 128, 130, 131, 132, 133, 138, 140, 141, 148, 163, 171, 173, 178, 183, 185, 186, 189, 190, 192, 193, 209, 213, 218, 219, 226, 247, 297, 313, 345, 402, 404, 411, 417, 419, 422, 425–420, 431, 440–443, 449, 486, 539–540, 546, 601; in Denmark 11–17, in Finland 18–24, in Greenland 30–31, in Norway 25–32, in Sweden 33–42 Allan Kardecin opin ystävät ry 503 Allgermanische heidnische Front 615, 621 Almanacs, see astrological calendars Alternativt Nettverk 310–311, 377 AMORC, see Ancient and Mystical Order Rosae Crucis (AMORC) Ancient and Mystical Order Rosae Crucis (AMORC) 344, 445, 446, 448, 449, 453, 454–460 Ängsbacka festival 200, 316, 375 Anholt affair 465 Anthroposophic banking 46–47, 55 Anthroposophic curative education 60 Anthroposophic medicine 50, 60 Anthroposophy 9, 591–592; in Denmark 43–48, in Finland 49–52, in Norway 53–57, in Sweden 58–63 Antroposofisk Selskap 54 apocalypticism 19, 20, 22, 23, 35, 27, 34, 37, 69, 76, 80, 85, 120–121, 123, 129, 138–139, 178, 241, 295, 391, 398, 411, 415, 421, 422, 426–429, 439, 440, 442, 481, 483, 604, 634–635, 645, 647–648 Arcane Magical Order of the Knights of Shambala 338, 340 Arcane School 609–610 archeus 419 Argentum Astrum 321, 335

Aristotelianism 83–84, 182–184, 186, 403, 405–407, 410–412, 414, 415, 425, 433–434, 436 ArunA Academy 310 Asatro 351, 352–354, 362, 368–373 Asatrofællesskabet i Danmark 353 Asatrofællesskabet Yggdrasil 353 Asatru, see Asatro Asatru Folk Assembly 354 Asatrufelleskapet Bifrost 369–371 Asatrúsamfundet 352 Åsbacka Center for Shamanic Healing 355 Ashtar Command 655–656, 658, 662 Association for Professional Astrologers in Finland, the 100–102 Astarte Education 310, 516 Astarte Inspiration, see Astarte Education Astrological Association of Finland 99–100 astrological calendars 65–66, 69, 70, 78, 80, 84–86, 410, 411 Astrologinätverket Prometheus 109 Astrologiska förbundet 108 Astrologskolen 91 astrology 6, 11, 34, 37, 41, 138, 207–208, 215, 216, 218, 222, 247, 295, 304, 310, 412, 429, 515, 573, 598; contemporary in Denmark 89–97, in Finland 98–103, in Sweden 104–112, early modern in Denmark 64–69, in Norway 70–77, in Sweden 78–88 Astrology House, the 93 Astrology Museum, the 93 Athene Oasis 321 Augsburg Confession 402, 432–433, 436 auras 296, 297, 310 Aurvanga Teosofisk Samfunn 571 automatic writing 309, 496, 512, 523, 525 Azazelin tähti 328, 478, 599 Balt Oasis 334 baquet 270 Baravara institute 199 Bergen UFO-forening 650 Bergman circle 142–143

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi 10.1163/9789004325968_085

690 Biodynamic farming in Denmark 46, in Finland 52, in Norway 55, in Sweden 60– 63 Black Metal 384, 464, 465, 468, 476, 477, 481, 482–484, 489–492, 616, 621 Blindern Åsatrolag 369 blót 352, 353, 356, 369, 370 Bodynamic Institut 200 Bog og Mystik 294 Bohemian Unity of Brethren 391 Böhme, influence of, see Christian Theosophy Borch’s Kollegium 187 Breidablikk-gildet 381 bricolage 477–479, 655, 657–658 Buddhism 198, 297, 307, 313, 580, 584, 598, 625 Builders of the Adytum 226, 340, 461 Café Pan 199, 316 Café Vega 199 Caliphate OTO 315, 332, 346 Calvinism 30, 137, 240, 394, 396, 432 Cartesianism 37, 84, 241, 414 Casa de Dom Inacion ystävät ry 503 Catholicism 33, 128, 132, 137, 236, 240, 391, 398, 402, 432 Center for Research on Consciousness and Anomalous Psychology 290 Center for Mielikki and Hare, The 361 Center for the Study of Extraterrestrial Intelligence 651 Centrum för Jungiansk Psykologi 208 chakras 297, 298, 601, 641 channelling 299, 502, 516, 588 chiliasm, see apocalypticism Choronzon Club 340 Christian Community in Finland 47, in Norway 55, in Sweden 58, 60 Christian Science 510 Christian Theosophy 28, 34, 226, 420–421, 422; in Denmark 113–118, in Finland 119–126, in Norway 127–136, in Sweden 137–144 Chtulhu mythos 336–337 Church of Satan 464, 469–471, 475, 478, 482, 485, 489 Church of the Soul 524

Index Of Subjects Church Universal and Triumphant 611, see also Summit Lighthouse clairvoyance 53, 264–266, 269, 271–273, 287–290, 296, 298–299, 303–304, 510, 524, 528, 536, 549, 637 clairvoyant, see clairvoyance Clermont system of Freemasonry 147 contactees 295, 632, 634–636, 641–645 core shamanism 354 Cosmic convergence 298–299 Counter-Reformation 431, 432, 436 Court of Aine 386 Court of Joy 385–386 Craft degrees of Freemasonry 146, 147, 148, 155, 158, 165, 169, 170, 177 Crimson Circle 594, 601 crop circles 647 Cyprianus – Netværk for hekse i Danmark 357 Damanhur spiritual community 516 Daniel Kirken 296, 591 Danish Association for Psychoanalysis 204 Danish Law Code of 1683 232 Dansk Astrologforening 92 Dansk Interplanetarisk Selskab for Contact 633 Dansk Magnetopathisk Forening 267 Danske Frie og Uafhængige Murere 321 Danske Spiritisters Kirkesamfund 494–495 De Fem 526 deep ecology 308 DELU 249, 461 Den Astrologiske Skole 92 Den Danske Frimurerorden 145 Den Danske Stor-Orient af gamle og antagne frie Murere 320 Den esoteriska vägen 610 Den Frie Universelle Kirke 593 Den Gyldne Cirkel 588–589 Den lysende cirkel 587–588 Den Norske Orden av Rosen og Korset 460 Den nye kirken, see New Church Den Spirite Forening Benjamin Franklin 509 Den spiritistiske forening 508 Det Danske Frimurerlaug 145 Det norske åsatrusamfunn 371–372

Index of Subjects Det Norske Spirite Samfund 508, 570 Det norske spiritistiske selskab 513 Det Ukendtes Boghandel 294 Deva Center 199, 317 Dialogcenteret 463, 465 Disclosure Project 651 Donner Institute and Library 51 Dragon Rouge 226, 322, 326, 337, 347–348, 380, 479 dream interpretation, see oneiromancy Druids of Scania 386 East & West 313 Ecclesia Gnostica Apostolica 339 Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica 320, 321, 335, 339 Ecclesia Gnostica Spiritualis 321, 467 Edelweissförbundet 523, 526 Ekliptika 92 elements, theories of 66, 80–81, 220, 248, 391, 411–412, 414, 420, 426 end-time prophecies, see apocalypticism engrams 203 Enlightenment 38, 140, 152, 287, 429, 443, 534, 541, 628 Era Nova 303 Esalen Institute 195, 196 Eschatology, see apocalypticism Esoteric Order of Dagon 337 Esoteric satanism 466–471, 491 Exegetiska och Philantropiska sällskapet 286–287, 521, 540–542 Exopolitics Denmark 638–639 Félag Ásatruarmanna 369 Fellowship of Isis 361 feng shui 304, 310, 315 Finnish Free Wicca Association, see Suomen vapaa Wiccayhdyskunta First Spiritual Temple, The 510 Flodberg circle 143 Foreningen Forn Sed 371 Foreningen Hekse 357 Föreningen Självhjälp 528 Föreningen Spiritistisk Mission, see Sällskapet Sanningssökarna Foreningen til Undersøgelse af de såkaldte Spiritistiske Fænomener 494

691 Föreningen Veronica 327, 598 Formula of Concord 397, 432, 434, 435 forn sed, see Asatro Forn Siðr 320, 352, 357 Forum 2000 201 Foundation for Shamanic Studies Denmark 355 Fourth Way 324–325 Fraternitas Rosicruciana Antiqua 339 Fredagsgruppen 526 Frederiksberg UFO Studiekreds 299, 637 Freemasonry 7, 41, 141, 213, 223, 226, 242, 245–249, 286–287, 319–321, 443, 451, 467, 572, 596; in Denmark 145–151, in Finland 152–161, in Norway 162–167, in Sweden 168–181 Freya Rose Croix Kapittel 334 Fria Universella Kyrkan i Sverige 607 Fribyggarorden 542 Friends of the C.G. Jung Foundation 208 Frit UFO Studium, see Frederiksberg UFO Studiekreds Gaia center 199 galdr 329, 370, 376 Galenism 12, 68, 184, 403, 405, 406, 407, 408, 410, 414, 434 Galleri Medmera 198, 199, 315, 316 Gate of Heaven Chapel 502 GEEAK-Norge, see Gruppen for Spiritistiske studier Allan Kardec gematria 216, 221 Gensidig Terapi 201 Gere and Freke Camp 320 Gestalt Academy in Scandinavia 197 Ghanaian Order of the Rose Cross 460 Gilalai Institut for Energi og Bevidsthed 297 glocalisation 2, 292, 458 Goddess Movement 375–376 Golden Circle 297 Golden Rosy Cross, see Ordo Aurea & Rosae Crucis Göteborg GICOFF 660 Göteborgs Hedniska Nätverk 387 Gothicism 218, 220 Gran Oriente Latinoamericano (GOLa) 181 grimoires 216, 244, 248, 249, 251–252, 322, 327, 335

692 Gruppen för Spiritistiska Studier Allan Kardec – Sverige 532 Gruppen for Spiritistiske studier Allan Kardec 516 Gudindebevægelsen 356, see also Goddess Movement Gurdjieff-seura 325 Hälsans Hus 314 Hälsofrämjandet 314 Harmoniska societeten 286 Harparkrat Cyber-Temple 344 Harreskovens Blotgilde 354 Healerskolen 297 healing 50, 53, 199, 214, 235, 271, 273–281, 287–288, 291, 294–296, 298–299, 303–304, 309–310, 314, 355–356, 363, 370, 376–378, 449, 503, 507, 561, 578 Heathenism, see Asatro Hedniska Nätverket Vitka 387 Heimdals Sønner og Døtre 352 Hekselogen Isikaja 356–357 Helsingin ufoyhdistys 642 Hermeticism 34, 37, 38, 66, 76, 78, 80, 82, 137, 141, 212–213, 233, 234, 391, 392, 397, 411, 417, 419, 422, 429, 440, 446; in Denmark 182–188, in Sweden 189–194 Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn 225–226, 250, 320, 321, 322, 333, 335, 340, 343, 344–346, 461 Hermetic School of Kabbalah, The 225 Herrnhutism 140 Hessdalen, see Project Hessdalen Hiidenkirnu 362 Hilma af Klint Stiftelsen 527 Hinduism 293, 308, 513, 628 Hippocratic medicine 68, 408, 412, 413 holism 48–50, 100, 195, 208, 310, 376, 392, 502, 515, 584, 656 Holistisk Forbund 311, 376 Holistiskt Center 315 Human-Etisk Forbund 311, 376 Human Potential Movement 195–202, in Denmark 200–201, in Finland 202, in Norway 201–202, in Sweden 197–200 humanistic psychology 195 Humaniversity 200 Hylozoics 612–613, 664–665

Index Of Subjects hypnosis 269, 272, 274–276, 282, 289–290, 524 I AM Activity, The 610–611, 657 iatrochemistry 12–14, 26, 30, 67–68, 182, 185–186, 407–408, 410, 413; see also Paracelsianism I.C. Institute 90–91 Ifa religion 339 Ifologiska Sällskapet 663 IGAP, see International Get Acquainted Program IGF, see Intergalaktiska Federationen Ihminen Tunnustajat 597–598 ILIANA Nordic Academy 310 Illuminates of Thanateros 337 Illuminati 179 Illuminism 247, 443 Institut for Integreret Psykoterapi og Kybernetisk Psykologi 200 Institute for Analytical Psychology 209 Institutet för hylozoiska studier, see Hylozoics Institutet för medicinsk psykologi och psykoterapi 205 Intergalaktiska Federationen 663, 664 International Get Acquainted Program 633 International Society of Business Astrologers 93 International Spiritualist Federation 501 Interplanetistit ry 642 Isänmaallinen kansanrintama 327, 598 Islam 221, 625, 627 Julia’s Bureau 511, 512 Jumalten Ystävät 361 Jungianism 105, 197, 200, 203–211, 225, 297, 347, 383, 384, 594 Kaariportti kappeliyhdistys ry 502 Kaariporttiystävät 502 kabbalah 28, 34, 39, 40, 41, 138, 141, 171, 173, 179, 240, 245, 247, 321, 328, 345, 348, 349, 441, 486, 601; in Denmark 212–217, in Sweden 218–227 Kabbalah Centre 225 Kamadon Academy 224 Kansallis-mytologinen yhdistys 327, 599 Kapalik rDorje Ordo Magica 339–340

Index of Subjects Karatas society 324 karma 61, 105, 255, 307, 449, 450, 504, 599, 600, 606, 641 Kirkkavihreä ry 362 Kirurgiska societeten 285 Koijärvi Movement 301 konventikelplakatet 7, 139–140 Kosmos Koloni, see Martinus Centre Krishnamurti Center 608 Krishnamurti Foundation 575 Kristosofia, see Kristosofinen Kirjallisuusseura Kristosofinen Kirjallisuusseura 597 Krystalsolen 591 KulturOrgan Skandinaujo 615, 621–622 La Couleuvre Noire 337 La Sainte Parole 178 Le Droit Humain (LDH) 180 Lectorium Rosicrucianum 447, 448–449, 450 Left Hand Path 326, 329, 348, 470, 475, 478–479, 491 Lehto ry 361 Les Illuminés d’Avignon 176, 178–179 Lev i Lyset 591 Liberal Catholic Church 296, 557, 573, 592–593, 599–600, 605, 606–607 Liberal Katolsk Kirke, see Liberal Catholic Church Liekinpitäjien veljeskunta 600 Life University 199 Lila Aropa, se Agni Vajra Yama Grand Lodge Living School of Kabbalah 225 Logen den hvide lotus 562 L’Ordre des Élus Coëns 177–178 Lorjanar 356 Lotus Circles 582 Lucis Trust 609 Lutheranism 5, 78, 113–114, 119, 120, 137, 390, 432, 537 magic, contemporary forms of, see entries on Occultism, Paganism and Satanism magic, early modern 13, 18, 19, 20, 23, 34, 35, 37, 40, 41, 131, 138, 171, 173, 175, 177, 179, 182, 185–186, 190, 213, 218–220, 222, 223, 225,

693 286–287, 441–442; in Denmark 228–235, in Finland 236–243, in Sweden 244–253 Malmö Astrologiförening 109 Malteser-Triangeln, see I AM Activity Måndagsgruppen 314 Mandala Senter 201, 310 Martinism 108, 213, 226, 319, 343, 344, 345, 460, 461, 467, 524 Martinus Centre 257–259 Martinus Cosmology 254–263, 299, 315, 587, 591 Martinus Institute 259–261, 297 Matsyananda Jagrthii Tantrik Pracaraka Sangha 339 meditation 71, 72, 73, 211, 264, 255, 258–259, 298, 303, 304, 308–309, 317, 447, 449, 455, 560, 561, 573, 576, 585, 588, 593, 604, 640 mediums, see Spiritualism Melchizedek Method 224 Men of Hagal, The 368 Merlinorden, see Svenska Misraimförbundet Mesmerism 7–8, 443, 510, 540, 541; in Denmark 264–268, in Norway 269–284, in Sweden 285–291 Metatron 7, 20, 222–223, 245–246, 663 millenarianism, see apocalypticism mnemism 203 mindfulness 198, 315, 317 Misantropiska Lucifer Orden 226, 490–491 Moravian Brothers 421, 422, 536 Mysteria Mystica Maxima 334–335 Mystics of Ostrobothnia 122–124 Naasseniske Gnostiske Synode 467 Näckrosen 313 National Socialism 145, 152, 156, 165, 206, 326–327, 368, 475, 598–599, 616–622, 624 Naturphilosophie 18, 36, 116, 273, 287–288, 392 Nätverket Forn Sed 383–384 Nazism, see National Socialism necromancy 250 Nekropolis 321 Neljäs Tie Suomessa 325 Neo-Luciferian Church 321, 467 Neoplatonism 36, 78, 80, 82, 190, 403, 411 Neoshamanism 351, 354–356, 376–378

694 NETI, see Norwegian Organisation for the study of Extraterrestrial Intelligences New Age 223; in Denmark 93, 292–300, in Finland 301–306, in Norway 307–312, in Sweden 313–318 New Age fairs 295, 302–304 New Church 506, 517, 545 New Thought 195 Nidhvg Camp 334 No Mind Festival 316 Nordic Kabbalah 218–220 Nordisk Paganistforbund 373 Nordisk Spiritualistisk Union 531 Nordisk Tingsfællig 353 Nordiska Förbundet 616, 620 Nordiska Ringen, se Norröna Samfundet Nordiska Yogainstitutet 315 Nordiskt Psykoterapeutiskt Kollegium (NPK) 204, 206 Nordsolen 615 Norröna Samfundet 384 Norsk Hedensk Front 621 Norsk metapsykisk selskab 282 Norsk Psykodramaskole 201 Norsk selskap for parapsykologisk forskning 515 Norsk Spiritualist Forening 517 Norsk Spiritualistisk Trossamfunn 517 Norsk Teosofisk Forbund 571 Norsk UFO Center 650 Norwegian Order of Freemasons 162, 165 Norwegian Order of the Star in the East 572 Norwegian Organisation for the study of Extraterrestrial Intelligences 651, 653–655 Norwegian Psychoanalytic Society 203 Norwegian Satanic Society 484–485 numerology 40, 106, 110, 132, 138, 224, 304 Nuoret mystikot 600 Nya Kyrkans Bekännare 545, see also New Church Nya Kyrkans eller Det Nya Jerusalems Församling 545, see also New Church Occultism 223; in Denmark 319–323, in Finland 324–331, in Norway 332–342, in Sweden 343–349 odic force 273, 278

Index Of Subjects Odins Hird 352 Økofeministerne 356 oneiromancy 40, 200, 204, 208, 518, 534, 539 Oraansuojelijat 301 Orden des Gold- und Rosenkreutzes 17 Ordenen Stjernen i Øst, see Order of the Star in the East Order of Nine Angles 478 Order of the Martinists, see Martinism Order of the Star in the East 53, 572, 573–574, 592, 608 Ordo Aurea & Rosae Crucis 320, 440, 441–442, see also Orden des Gold- und Rosenkreutzes Ordo Illuminatorum 485–487 Ordo Primæ Lucis 226 Ordo Templi Orientis 225, 319, 320, 332, 333, 334–336, 380, 386 Ordo Templi Orientis Antiqua 320, 333, 337 Ordo Templi Satanas 485–486 Ordre Kabbalistique de la Rose Croix 320 Ordre Reaux Croix 226, 344, 345, 461 orgone 201, 279 Orthon Movement 634–636, 657 Osho movement 197–202, 310, 314, 316 Osho Risk 201 Oulun UFO-kerho 643 Paganism 322, 346; in Denmark 350–359, in Finland 360–366, in Norway 367–379, in Sweden 380–389 Pagan Federation Sweden 387 Pajkull affair 36–37 Pakanatieto ry 363 Pakanaverkko ry 325, 361, 477–478 pansophy 34, 390–401 Paracelsianism 6, 12–13, 18, 26, 27, 28, 30, 36, 66, 68, 73–75, 80–81, 114, 130–131, 137, 139, 182, 183, 184, 185, 187, 192, 233, 234, 431, 433, 434, 435–436, 443; in Denmark 402–409, in Finland 410–416, in Norway 417–424, in Sweden 425–430 Pegasos seura 327, 598 Pekka Ervastin kannatusliitto 597 perennialism 212, 329, 451, 454, 596, 615, 617, 624–628 P.F.S. Allah-Gehbar 525 Philippists 432–444

Index of Subjects philosopher’s stone 14, 20, 26, 30, 36, 40 Pietism 6–7, 19, 22–23, 31, 36, 39, 113–115, 119–120, 127, 129, 137–140, 142, 435–436 Platonism 72, 75, 80, 82, 190–191, see also neo-Platonism Pohjan neito encampment 325 Pohjoismainen pakanaliitto 361 Pohjolan Valo 598 Polaris Centret 593 poltergeist phenomena 497, 506 postmodernism 94–95, 134, 335, 337, 370, 378, 458 prisca theologia 186, 439 Pro Fide et Charitate 542–543 Project Hessdalen 652–653, 657 prophecy, see apocalypticism Protocols of the Elders of Zion 166 pseudo-Satanism 477; see also Reactive paradigmatically conform Satanism Psychogenetics 206 Psychologische Gesellschaft 509 Raëlian movement 636, 661–662 Raja Yoga 581 Rajatiedon yhteistyöryhmä 301, 302, 643, 644 Rationalist Satanism 466–471, 484–485, 490, 491 Reactive paradigmatically conform Satanism 463–466, 491 Reformation (Lutheran) 64, 68, 78, 88, 182, 228, 236, 426 reincarnation 292, 450, 495, 503, 504, 509, 599, 600, 641 Riksorganisationen UFO-Sverige 660 Rite of Memphis 180, 339 Romanticism 117, 127, 131–132, 142, 267, 368, 380, 565 Rönnmåne 386 Rose Cross Order 449 Rosenkreutzer-Gesellschaft in Deutschland, see Rosicrucian Society in Germany Rosicrucian Fellowship 445–446 Rosicrucian Order 449 Rosicrucian Order of Alpha+Omega 344–345 Rosicrucian Society in Germany 445

695 Rosicrucians, early modern 179, 393; in Denmark 431–438, in Sweden 439–444 Rosicrucians, contemporary groups in Denmark 445–447, in Finland 448–452, in Norway 453–462 Round Table, The 573 Rudolf Steiner Seminar 46 rune cross 219 Rune-Gild 328–330 runes 34, 82, 138, 218–219, 226, 251, 303, 329–330, 370, 440 Ruusu-Risti 449, 450–452, 566, 567, 595–597 sabateans 221 Sällskapet för parapsykologisk forskning 531 Sällskapet för pastoralpsykologi 205 Sällskapet för psykisk forskning 500 Sällskapet Sanningssökarna 528 Samfälligheten för Nordisk Sed 383 Samfundet Forn Sed 381–383, 388 Sami religion 377–378 Sammenslutningen af Fagastrologer 92 Santería 338 Sarielgruppen 591 Satanic Order, The 490 Satanic Reds 470 Satanisk Forum 470–471 Satanism 226, 321, 326–328, 337, 362, 598–599, 621, 647; in Denmark 463–473, in Finland 474–480, in Norway 481–488, in Sweden 489–493 Satanism panic 463–464, 474, 476, 481–482, 491–493, 647 Scandinavia, geographical delimitation of 3–5 Scandinavian Center for Shamanic Studies 355 Scanian Church Law 228 School of Spiritual Science 62 Scientology 636 Scottish degrees of Freemasonry 146, 149, 155, 158, 159, 165, 169, 176–177, 180, 443 Sealandian Church Law 228 Search for Extraterrestrial Visitation 653 seid 370, 381 sephiroth 220, 222, 224, 225, 348 Servants of the Light 346 SETV, see Search for Extraterrestrial Visitation

696 Shamaaniseura ry 361 Shamanistisk Forbund – Danmark 355 Shamanselskabet Danmark 355 Shan the Rising Light 297, 587–588, 589 Share International 604–605 Sindalgruppen 591 Sirius Center 589 Sirius group, see Jumalten Ystävät Sjamanistisk Forbund 377 Skandinavisk Astrologi Skole 92 Skandinavisk UFO Information 632–634, 635, 636 Skandinaviska Teosofiska Samfundet 579 Skevik group 122, 140 Skogsstjärna, see Court of Joy Skolen for Kropsdynamik 200 Societas Misraim, see Svenska Misraimförbundet Society for Psychical Research 496, 497, 498, 508, 511, 513, 524 Society of Inner Light 346 Sodalitas Rosæ Crucis 226, 340, 345, 461 Solbjerg Blótlaug 354 Solens Hjerte 298 Solis Alati 345, 461 Solsökehem kursgård 261 Solvervcenter 201 somnambulism, mesmeric 264–270, 273–274, 288–289, 507, 521 sophianic mysticism 115, 120, 123 sorcery, see witchcraft spagyric medicine, see Paracelsianism Sphinxen 319 Spiritistisk Broderskab 495 Spiritistiska Lånesällskapet 522 Spiritistiska Litteraturföreningen 522, 523 Spiritual Growth associations 501 Spiritualism 8, 275, 276–278, 282, 296, 324, 343, 570, 633; in Denmark 494–499, in Finland 500–505, in Norway 506–520, in Sweden 521–533 Spiritualistiska föreningen 524 Spiritualistiska Riksförbundet 529, 530 Spiritualistiska Riksförbundet för Andlig Utveckling 532 Spiritualistiska Sällskapet 529 Spiritualistkretsen Johannes Budbärare 525 Spirituelt Center 590

Index Of Subjects Sprengelrecht 164 St. Andrew’s lodges 164, 169 Star Coloniy 573 Stewards’ lodges 159, 164, 170, 175 Stiftelsen KOSMOS – Varhem 261 Stiftelsen Martinus Institut 261, 315 Stiftelsen Stjärnsund 315 Stiftelsen Tibetanens Bokfond 609–610 Strict Observance 147–149, 163, 171–173, 177 Stockholms Spiritualistiska Förening 528, 530, 531 Stoicism 84, 134, 403, 411 Strubes boghandel 303 Sufism 143, 625–628 SUFOI, see Skandinavisk UFO Information Summit Lighthouse movement 593, 600, 603–604, 611–612 Sun-ether 278 Suomen kansanparantajaseura ry 363 Suomen kansanuskon yhdistys ry 362 Suomen parapsykologinen tutkimusseura ry 501 Suomen Spiritualistinen Seura ry 501 Suomen ufotutkijat ry 643, 644, 645 Suomen vapaa Wiccayhdyskunta 361, 363–365 Svensk Hednisk Front 621 Svenska föreningen för klinisk hypnos 290 Svenska föreningen för Klinisk och Experimentell Hypnos 290 Svenska Frimurare Lägret 180 Svenska Misraimförbundet 346 Svenska Satanistkyrkan 490 Svenska Spiritualisters Riksförbund 531 Svenska Teosofiska Samfundet 579, 580, 581 Sveriges Asatrosamfund, see Samfundet Forn Sed Sveriges Astrologiska Riksförbund 108 Sveriges UFO-Förbund 664 Swedenborgianism 7, 20, 21–22, 40–41, 221, 246, 285, 286–287, 293, 500, 506, 507, 510, 517, 521, 638; in Denmark 548, in Finland 548–549, in Norway 549–551, in Sweden 534–548 Swedish Grand Chapter 169 Swedish Heathen Front 384 Swedish Rite of Freemasonry 150, 169–170, 179

697

Index of Subjects Swedish Vitka Association, see Hedniska Nätverket Vitka Swedish Wicca Association, see Hedniska Nätverket Vitka Symbolist art 132, 549–550 synchronicity 208 Taivaannaula 362 Tampereen Ufo ry 643 tarot 11, 207–208, 215–216, 224, 303, 304, 310 telekinesis 497 telepathy 497, 510, 634, 660 Telge Fylking 381 Temple of Lucifer 468–469 Temple of Nox 487 Temple of Set 326, 475, 477, 484, 489 Temple of the Black Light, see Misantropiska Lucifer Orden Temple of the Rosy Cross 572 Teosofisk Fellowship 297 Teosofisk Forening 562, 589–591 Teosofisk forening Stavanger 576 Teosofisk Netværk 591 Teosofisk Samfunds Dansk-Islandske Nationalsamfund 554 Teosofiska Kompaniet 585 Teosofiska Samfundet Adyar 584 Teosofiska Samfundet i Skandinavien 579 Teosofiska Samfundet i Sverige 583–584 Teosofiska Samfundet Pasadena 582, see also Universal Brotherhood Teosofiska Samfundet Point Loma 583 Teosofiska Samfundets Skandinaviska Sektion 579, 581 Teosofiska Samfundets Svenska Afdelning 579 The Cause, see Martinus Cosmology Thee Temple ov Psychick Youth 340 thelema 325–326, 332, 338, 346–347, 483, 484, 486 Thelemic Gnostic Church 339 Theosophical Order of Service, The 573, 584 theosophical Satanism 326–328 Theosophical Society, see Theosophy Theosophical summer schools 557, 561, 574 Theosophically inspired movements in Denmark 587–594, in Finland 595–602, in Norway 603–605, in Sweden 606–614

Theosophy 8–9, 53, 59, 100, 180, 207, 215, 254–255, 296, 313, 324, 326, 328, 450–452, 453, 486, 500, 507–510, 526, 528, 633, 642, 646, 662, 664, 665; in Denmark 554–562, in Finland 563–569, in Norway 570–577, in Sweden 578–586, see also Theosophically inspired movements theurgy 177, 180, 190, 226, 245, 335, 345 Traditionalism in Denmark 615–617, in Finland 329, in Norway 618–623, in Sweden 624–629 Tri Orton Sirius 663 tria prima 75, 412, 420 Turun hengentiedon seura 327 Turun hengentieteen seura 598 Typhonian Order 326, 332, 333, 337, 338 UFO-based movements in Denmark 630–639, in Finland 640–649, in Norway 650–659, in Sweden 660–666 UFO ’54 633 UFO-Häggvik 660 UFO-Norway 650, 651–652 Uias Blótlaug 354 Unicorn School 91 Unitarian Church 293–294 United Grand Lodge 145 United Lodge of Theosophists 585 Universal Brotherhood 580–583, 585 Urim and Thummim 20, 223, 246 utopianism 41, 193, 401, 436, 539, 591, 620 Utøya massacre 166 Vajra Ordo Templi Orientis 339 Vajra Yama Zonule, see Agni Vajra Yama Grand Lodge Vækstcentret 200, 297 Valonkantajat ry 502 Vapaa Katolinen Kirkko, see Liberal Catholic Church Vattumannen 207, 313 Vigrid 372 Vihreät (Finnish Greens) 301–302 Vintergatan 109 VOPUS 600–601 Wakka-mysteerikoulu 362

698 Waldorf education in Denmark 46–47, in Finland 50–51, in Norway 54–55, in Sweden 60–63 Wäxthuset, see Galleri Medmera Western esotericism, definitions of 1, brief history of in Scandinavia 5–9, in Greenland 30–31, in Iceland 260, 369, 455, 554, 607 White Eagle Lodge 593–594, 601 White Lotus lodge, see Logen den hvide lotus Wicca 356–357, 360, 361, 363–365, 367, 373–375, 377, 378, 380, 385–387, 388, 389, 478

Index Of Subjects Wicca ry 361 Wild Goose Company 298 witchcraft 228–233, 351, 356–357 World Drum Project, The 378 World Goodwill 609 world soul 80–81 xenoglossia 272 Yggdrasil 381 Yggdrasil Camp 334 York rite 158 Yr Camp 334