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THE LIFE
AND THOUGHT
OF
KIERKEGAARD
FOR EVERYMAN
THE LIFE
AND THOUGHT
OF
KIERKEGAARD
FOR EVERYMAN
THE L I F E
AND THOUGHT
OF
KIERKEGAARD
FOR EVERYMAN

by

John A. Gates

THE WESTMINSTER PRESS Philadelphia

THE L I F E
AND THOUGHT
OF
KIERKEGAARD
FOR EVERYMAN

by

John A. Gates

THE WESTMINSTER PRESS Philadelphia

 O W. 1 . ) F.N KIN'S MCMLX

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w r i t i n g from the p u h l i i h r r , except b y a r e v i e w e r
w h o w i i l m t o q u o t e brief pa Mage* i n c o n n e c t i o n
with a review in m a g a z i n e o r n e w s p a p e r .

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PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

 To My Wife
confidence, co-operation, and gentle urgency
have made this book^ possible
 Contents

Preface 9
1. " Never a Child " II
2. " My Going Astray " 19
3. " M y A w a k e n i n g " 27
4. " Sovereign of My Heart '* 37
5. *' Either/Or " 54
6. " Stages on Life's W a y * 74
7. " Poor Individual, Existing Man " 91
8 . " Trampled to Death by Geese " 107
9. " Thou and 1 Arc Sinners " 122
10. " A Poet's Heart Must Break " 139
Notes 159
Selected Bibliography 165
Index 169
 Preface

n p H i s SMALL BOOK is an attempt to bring Kicrkc-

_|_ gaard to those whom lie earnestly wanted to
reach. H e was concerned lest his writings Ixrcomc the " prop-
erty " of philosophers and theologians, discussed, argued
about, anil learnedly expounded, but never heeded or appro-
priated for living. He wrote for the " plain man," the person
to whom he referred as " that solitary individual," and whom
he addressed in the Discourses as " my reader."
Yet the earliest known reference to Kierkegaard by any
writer in English (Andrew Hamilton in 1852) notes that
while there is no Danish writer more earnest than Kierke-
gaard, there is also no one in whose way stand more things
to prevent his becoming popular. This is an exaggeration,
for much that he wrote is very readable. But he is wordy; his
logic is sometimes difficult; and his thinking contrasts
markedly with the climate of thought in our time. T o most
English-speaking readers today he needs to be mediated.
My effort in the present book is, therefore, to mediate
Kierkegaard to American readers in such a way that many
may read and understand. It is not a scholarly book, yet back
of it, I hope, lies a sufficient grasp of Kierkegaard that I have
avoided the pitfalls of misinterpretation and ovcrsimplifica-
9
in PREFACE

lion. As over a period of years I have read and pondered the

writings of this greatest of all ni net cent h<cntury religious
thinker*, there l»a* come an earnest desire to share him with
many others, and a deep conviction that it is possible to do
so. This l»ook is the result.
Like all English-speaking readers who have made a seri-
ous study of ihc great Danish writer. I am greatly indebted
to the late Dr. Walter I-owric. Dr. Lowrie's lxx>k Kierke-
gaard ha\ been, and will continue for many years to be. the
definitive biography of him in English. T o Dr. Lowric we
are also indebted for his excellent translations of many of
Kierkegaard's books, a task to which l'rof. David P. Swcn-
son. Mrs. Lillian Marvin Swcnson. Prof. Douglas V. Stecre,
antl Mr. Alexander Dru have also made important contribu-
tions.
Acknowledgment is herewith gratefully made to the Ox-
fort) University Press, the Princeton University Press, and
Mrs, Walter l-owrie for permission to use copyrighted ma-
terial.
I wish to thank the editors of The Westminster Press, par-
ticularly Dr. Roland W . Tapp, for patience, counsel, and en-
couragement in the writing and preparation for publication
of this book. Thanks are also due to Mrs. Iorctta Oestrcich,
who typed the manuscript, and to Mrs. Jcanc Anderson and
my wife, Iwth of whom, being appropriately devoid of any
philosophical training, have read the entire manuscript and
made many valuable suggestions.
JOHN A. GATES
Wettminsler College
Fulton, Misiouri
CHAPTER 1

"Nevera Child-

Si
ORFN A A B Y E KIERKEGAARD, who died in 1 8 5 5 , has
had an amazing resurrection of influence in our
time. He was unknown outside Denmark during his life-
time, and was little understood there or elsewhere for a gen-
eration or more after his death. Until 1914 Western civiliza-
tion was characterized by middle-class complacency and
evolutionary optimism, and did not know that it had within
itself the seeds of its own destruction. Now a generation so-
bered by world wars, a world-wide depression, false ideolo-
gies, mass hysteria and brutality, the rebellion of exploited
peoples, and the threat of atomic destruction is ready to lis-
ten lo Kierkegaard.
A generation ago he was unknown and unavailable to
English-speaking readers; now some twenty of his books are
available in English translation. He is variously understood,
and often misunderstood; he is generally agreed to be a con-
troversial figure. Points of view as various as the novels of
Albert Camus and the theology of neo-orthodoxy derive
their inspiration, directly or indirectly, from Kierkegaard.
His may not be the whole gospel, but it is a needed corrcc-
live to the distorted views of " popular " Christianity current
among us. All we like sheep have gone astray, and this man
II
12 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF K1ERKFGAAM) FOR F.VF.XYMAN

with the prophet voice and shepherd heart calls us hack to

the way. No man in our generation, who would understand
himself, or Christianity, or life, can atTord to be ignorant of
Kierkegaard.
I Ic was lx>rn in Copenhagen, May 5. 1813, the youngest of
seven children. His father was fifty-six, and his mother was
ncaring her forty-fifth birthday. Their home was one of
wealth and leisure. The father, Michael P. Kierkegaard, had
made a fortune as a wholesale dealer in woolens and general
imports. Deeply interested in religion, he had retired from
business at the age of forty to devote himself to study. From
brooding over two traumatic experiences in his life, he bad
become a very melancholy man. His boyhood had liccn one
of poverty and hardship. One day, herding sheep on a bar-
ren I K .lib of Jutland, in loneliness, misery, and futile rebel-
lion he bad lifted his face to a pitiless sky and cursed God.
He was never able to for«ct this.
More tangible, ami weighing even more Iteavily upon his
conscience, was M. P. Kierkegaard's sin of sexual inconti-
nence after the death of his first wife. Anne Lund, who was
to become his second wife and the mother of his seven chil-
dren, had been Ins housekeeper. He married her before 'be
year of mourning was over, and five months later she gave
birth to their first child. For this the elder Kierkegaard never
forgave himself. He felt indeed that a curse lay ii|x»n his life
— and that he deserved it.
He was greatly interested in the rearing of his children, and
especially in his youngest son. From the time Sorcn was a
small boy, he anil his father spent much time together, and
while absorbing bis father's deep religious faith, the son also
absorbed his father's melancholy. Sorcn was later to say of
himself that as a child be was already an old man.
 • NEVER A C H I L D " 13

Yet life with father was not an altogether gloomy experi-

ence for young Sorcn. Years later he wrote many of his books
under various pseudonyms, attributing to his pseudonymous
authors autobiographical material he might otherwise have
been reluctant to publish. In one such passage, introducing
his favorite pseudonym, Johannes Climacus, there is this in-
teresting description, applicable, we believe, to Kierkegaard's
own boyhood:

His father was a very severe man. . . . When occasionally Jo-

hannes asked his permission to go out, he generally refused to
give it, though once in a while he proposed instead that Johannes
should take his hand and walk up and down the room. . . . The
proposition was accepted, and it was left entirely to Johannes to
determine where they should go. So they went out of doors to
a nearby castle in Spain, or out to the seashore, or about the
streets, wherever Johannes wished to go, for his father was equal
to anything. While they went up and down the room, his father
described all that they saw; they greeted passers-by; carriages rat-
tled past them and drowned his father's voice; the cake woman's
cakes were more enticing than ever. He described so accurately, so
vividly, so explicitly even to the least details, everything that W3s
known to Johannes and so fully and perspicuously what was un-
known to him, that after half an hour of such a walk with his
father, he was as much overwhelmed and fatigued as if he had
been 3 whole day out of doors. 1

There were times of real and active play also. It was on one
such occasion that Sorcn fell from a tree and received an in-
jury to his back to which he later attributed his spinal curva-
ture and accompanying ill-health. T h e injury, says his niece
Hcnricttc Lund, was " perhaps the first link in the chain of
suffering which was to lead him on his lonely w a y . " "
With this weakness of the back came the proverbial com-
M THE LIFE AND TIIOUCHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

pcnsation, a strong mind. Sorcn was often a fascinated lis-

tener to discussions between his father and visitors in the
home. M. P. Kierkegaard was a very intelligent man, and a
master of dialectic argument. When there was a disagree-
ment, he would urge the person with whom he disagreed to
state his position and say all he could in its defense. Then,
step by step, the elder Kierkegaard would win from his op-
ponent concessions which finally pushed the poor man into a
corner and left him with nothing more to say. Sorcn remem-
bered these discussions with relish, and was to become in
adult life a great controversialist and a master of dialectic.
The father made a deep impression on his youngest son.
Soren's mother, on the other hand, seems to have made Utile
conscious impression on him. She is described by others as a
nice little woman with a cheerful disposition. Sb'rcn Kierke-
gaard (often called S. K. by his friends and by his biogra-
phers) never mentions her in his writings.
He entered the Borgcrsdydskolc (" School of Civic Vir-
tue " ) in Copenhagen in 1821. H e began by taking his school-
work very seriously. In Either/Or he was later to give us an
example of his passionate earnestness even as a child:

I made my appearance at school, was introduced to my teacher,

and then was given my leuon for the following day. the first ten
lines of Ballc'i Leuon Book^. which I was to learn by heart. . . .
As a child I had a very good memory, so I had soon learned my
lesson. My sister had heard mc rcciic it several times, and af-
firmed that 1 knew it. 1 went to bed. and before I fell asleep 1
catechized myself once more; 1 fell asleep with the firm purpose
of reading the lesson over the following morning. I awoke at five
o'clock, got drcucd, got hold of my lesson book, and read it
again. . . . To mc it was as if heaven and earth might CflBapM
if 1 did not learn my lesson, and on the other hand as if. even if
 "rami A CHILD" 15
heaven and canh wctc lo collapse, this would not exempt me
from . . . learning my lesson-*

Sorcn was at this lime a small, rather delicate child. In his

home he had already developed a sharp tongue, and his fa-
ther nicknamed him " the fork." In the early years of his
school career his elderly parents dressed him in outmoded
clothes, and his schoolmates tailed him " choirboy/* H e re-
sented this, and soon discovered ib.it his sharp tongue and
ready wit were useful weapons in turning the tables on his
tormentors. This got him many a beating from older and
larger boys, but it also won the respect of his schoolmates.
S. K. had an independence of spirit which often got him
into trouble, both with fellow students and with teachers.
His brilliant mind would have enabled him to rank first in
his classes, but because of other interests and a certain degree
of perversity, he generally ranked second or third. He had
great respect for the headmaster, Michael Nielsen; and Niel-
sen admired the brilliance and independence of his pupil, in
whom he recognized intellectual maturity and emotional
immaturity.
T w o of his schoolmates have given interesting items of in-
formation about Sorcn's school life. One of them. Anger, who
(by his own admission) was always first in the class, tells us
that in spite of the many fights in which S. K. was involved,
" it was always a question which of us two was the weakest in
the class and the poorest in gymnastics."' Another classmate.
Welding, gives us this incident from what we would call the
high school years:

Professor Mathicssen [teacher of German) was an exceedingly

weak man who never had any authority over us. Once when the
horseplay in his class had gone very far — it was quite wild in all
16 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAABD FOR EVERYMAN

his hours — when (hey had made a complete meal, with butter-
bread, sandwiches, and beer, and had toasted one another with
formal Prosit*!. Profe«nr Maihiessen was ahout lo go out and re-
port the affair to Professor Nielsen. The rest of us surrounded
Maihicucn with prayers and fair promises, but S. K said only,
" Will you tell the Profcuor [ i * - Nielsen {that (his is always what
goes on in your hour? " Whereupon Mathietsen sat down, and
made no report.*

When, after nine years in the Borgcrsdydskolc, young

Kierkegaard was planning to enter the University of Copen-
hagen, Michael Nielsen wrote the customary letter of recom-
mendation. S. K., he wrote, had " a good intelligence, open
for everything that promises unusual interest, but for a long
time . . . childish in a high degree and totally lacking in se-
riousness." T h e young man had, said Nielsen, " a desire for
freedom and independence, which also shows itself in his
conduct by a good-natured, sometimes comical saucincss.""
Nielsen's impression of Sorcn Kierkegaard was shared by
most of those who knew him. In the company of others he
was gay, carefree, and witty. W e know from his writings
that, even as a child, he sought to make this impression on
others. Feeling himself to be different, he tried in bis social
relationships to cover up this difference, not by mere con-
formity, but with imagination, cleverness, and wit. H e
learned to conceal his conscientiousness with nonchalance,
and to cover his unhappiness by being comical. But his fa-
ther's melancholy was deep within him, and both father and
son knew it. Years later, S. K. wrote in his Journals:

Once upon a time there lived a father and son. Both were very
gifted, both witty, particularly the father. Everyone who knew
their house and frequented it certainly found it very entertaining.
 " NEVER A CHILD " 17

But as a rule they simply talked together and amused one another
like any two intelligent people, without behaving like father and
son. On one rare occasion, when the father, looking upon his son,
saw that he was deeply troubled, he stood before him and said:
" Poor child, you go about in silent despair." (But he never ques-
tioned more closely, alas he could noi, for he himself was in silent
despair.) Otherwise they never exchanged a word on the subject.
But father and son were, perhaps, two of ihe most melancholy
men in the memory of man.'

Even in religion Sorcn was trained, not in the religion of a

child, but in the religion of an adult. T h e only picture of
Christ given him by his father was that of Christ upon the
cross. T h e faith of the elder Kierkegaard was earnest and
evangelical, with a strong conviction of sin. It was not a
child's religion, but a child was burdened with it, and so was
prevented from being a child. For him there was no picture
of the Christ-child lying in a manger, only that of a strange
God-man dying upon a cross for the sins of the world.
So, in his growing up, S. K. became a strange mixture of
childishness and maturity. He had playthings, but learned to
prefer playing with ideas. All his life he was to enjoy playing
with ideas, and was sometimes playful about things which
he really regarded most seriously. It was, perhaps, a normal
reaction to an abnormal lack of play experience in childhood.
Some of it may also have come from the lighthcarted cheer-
fulness of his mother, who was amused and amazed by the
seriousness of her menfolk. Though his father's melancholy
was to dominate in S. K.'s character, his mother's humor was
continually breaking through.
From childhood on, therefore, he was a person of strange
contradictions and sudden shifts of mood. Underneath the
facade of gaiety and wit was an inward life of the spirit, a
18 T H E LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

deep seriousness with which he was burdened, even in child-

hood. His atleniion was centered, not on externa! relation-
ships and the things of this world, but upon his own inner
life — t h e life of the spirit. " My misfortune," he says, " was
that virtually from birth . . . I was not a man . . . and
when you are a child or young man, to be spirit is a terrible
suffering, more terrible still if with the help of the imagina-
tion you understand ihc trick of appearing to be youngest
of a l l : "
H e was a child and not a child. This inner paradox of his
own personality was to characterize the man be would be-
come. " Everyone," he wrote later, " is essentially what they
arc to be when they arc ten years old." * This child became
the young man who wrote half humorously:

One ought to be a mystery, not only to others, but also to oneself.

1 study myself; when I am weary of this, then for a pastime 1 light
a cigar and think: the Lord only knows what he meant by mc,
or what be would make of me. 10
CHAPTER 2

" My Going Astray"

"T WAS M . P. KIERKEGAARD'S desire that his two

younger sons prepare for the ministry of the state
church of Denmark. Peter Christian Kierkegaard, the older
of the two, was destined to have a respected career in the
church and become a bishop. Sorcn began his preparation for
such a career by entering the University of Copenhagen,
where he passed his qualifying examination cum laude, and
matriculated on October 30,1830. As a university student, his
immediate task was to prepare for the " Second Examina-
tion," which was in arts and sciences. He passed the first sec-
tion of this examination in April, 1831, and the second and
final part in October of the same year.

From this point on Sorcn was free to choose the courses

of lectures he would attend, and to prepare for his examina-
tions in theology at his own speed. This proved to be very
deliberate speed: he was a student in the university for ten
years! He cnlcred enthusiastically into the extracurricular
life of the university as an active member of the Student As-
sociation. He had strong aesthetic interests and tastes, which
his father and brother did not share. It was with their severe
disapproval that he studied history, philosophy, and literature
to the complete neglect of theology. H e began to dress fop-

19
20 T H E LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

pishly, and carried a cane. He was, as he says," dressed in the

latest fashion, with a cigar in my mouth."
There was in these years a surface gaiety about young
Sorcn Kierkegaard, He was popular with his fellow students
and in intellectual and literary circles in Copenhagen. He
became known for his sarcastic wit and conversational bril-
liance. But the melancholy inherited from his father was still
within him. He was " e n j o y i n g " the life of the university.
He was certain of his intellectual superiority and proud of
his social success; but inwardly he was miserable. This mis-
ery was to increase.
M . P. Kierkegaard's oldest son and oldest daughter had
died while Sorcn was still a child. Now there came to the
old man a bitter succession of bereavements: a daughter died
in September, 1832; a son, in September, 1833, his wife, in
July, 1834; and another daughter (Soren's favorite sister), in
December, 1834. A s Peter Kierkegaard later expressed it,
" For two years we seemed to stand beside our family
grave."'
Sorrow in the home and tension between his own intellec-
tual interests and his father's plans for him combined to pro-
duce serious inner conflicts for Soren. Peter Kierkegaard was
obediently carrying out his father's plan for his theological
studies. He looked with disapproval upon his younger broth-
er's attitude and activities at this time, and remarked," Sdren
does not seem to be reading at all for his examinations." He
observed with some disgust that " Sorcn was mixing with
poets and the l i k e - " ' T h e fact seems to be that S. K. was do-
ing more than mixing with poets. He had begun to drink
heavily, and was spending more time on the streets and in
the taverns than at home.
M. P. Kierkegaard sent Sorcn on a vacation to north See-
 " MY GOING ASTRAY 21

land in the summer of 1835, apparently hoping that the

change of environment anil getting away from the gloom of
his home would do the young man good About a year ear-
Iter S. K. had begun to record his thoughts in an occasional
and desultory way in notebooks. This was the beginning of
his Journal/. Now, while staying at the inn in the north
Seeland town of Gillclcic, his notebook entries became
longer, more frequent, more interesting, and more revealing.
It is here that, as Dru remarks," the Journali really b e g i n . " 1

Here much that was later to be characteristic of his philoso-

phy emerged in his thinking. He writes:

What I really lark it to be clear in my own mind what I am

to do, not what I am to know, except in so far at a certain under-
standing must precede every action. The thing is to understand
myself, to sec what God really wishes me to do; the thing is to
find a truth which is true for me, to find the idea for which I can
live and die. . . . What good would ii do me to be able to explain
the meaning of Christianity if ii bail no deeper significance for
me and my life? . . . I still recognize an imperative of under-
standing . . . but it must be taken up into my life, and that is
what 1 now recognize as the important thing. . . . That is what I
lack, and that is what 1 am striving after.*

This passage ends with good resolutions: " I will work on

with energy and not waste time. . . " " I will hurry up the
path I have discovered . . . remembering that it is a hill up
which we have to struggle." But his good resolutions were
not sufficiently resolute to withstand the shock of an experi-
ence that lay just ahead.
S. K . had sensed for some time that ihere must be specific
reasons for his father's melancholy. T h e stern old man, in
spite of his rigorous moral code and orthodox theology, had
found no peace in Christian faith. He could not forgive him-
22 T H E LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIEBKF.GAARD FOB EVERYMAN

self, and so could have no experience of God's forgiveness. It

was, perhaps, in the fall of 1835 that S. K. ceased to be a
child, and came to a man's knowledge of his father's sin. This
realization of his parents' guilty secret came to him as " the
great earthquake." His father's sin, he felt, was unconqucrcd,
and unforgiven. A curse lay upon the whole family, and the
old man, now in his eightieth year, was destined to outlive all
his children. None of them had lived past the age of thirty-
four; Soren now believed that neither he nor his brother, Pe-
ter, would live longer than this. This melancholy obsession,
which father and sons probably shared, was to them an " in-
fallible law " :

Then it was thai the great earthquake occurred, the frightful

upheaval which suddenly forced upon me a new and infallible
law for interpreting all the facts. Then I surmised thai my father's
great age was not a divine blessing, bui rather a curse; that the
distinguished talents of our family existed only 10 create mutual
friction; then I fell the silence of death grow around me when in
my father I saw an unhappy man who was to outlive us alt, a
cross on the tomb of all his hopes. There must be guilt upon the
whole family, the punishment of God musi be on it; it must dis-
appear, wiped out by God's almighty hand, obliterated like an
unsuccessful experiment. Only now and then did I find a liule
relief in the thought that my father had accepted the heavy duty
of consoling us with the comfort of religion, preparing us all so
that a better world would be open to us if wc should lose all in
this, even if thai punishment should fall upon us which the Jews
devoutly wished for all their foes — that our remembrance should
be cut off from ihc earth, and our name blotted out.*

" T h e great earthquake" was for S. K. a deep emotional

shock. His father was not a strong man, but a weak one who
had been unable to control his base impulses in the presence
 " MY GOINC A S T R A Y " 21

of physical temptation. It seems probable that M. P. Kierke-

gaard never felt the blessing of God upon his marriage. T h e
sexual relation seems never to have become for him a rela-
tionship of pure love in which the physical is redeemed and
ennobled by spiritual qualities of faith, tenderness, unselfish-
ness, and mutuality. H e could only think of sex as evil and
its legalization in marriage as a concession to the flesh. Years
later S. K. was to write:

Sometimes people are led astray as to what sin is, and the cause
is perhaps some well-meaning person; for example, a man who
has been very dissolute in order to frighten his son from anything
of the same kind, might explain that sexual desire was itself sin-
f u l — forgetting that there was a difference between himself and
the child — that the child was innocent and would therefore of
necessity misunderstand him*

So, infected with a distorted understanding of sex, shocked

by his father's sinfulness, the sensitive young man of twenty-
two was hilcd with revulsion and dread. T h e father whom
he had idolized became the object of his bitter contempt.
These two who had been so close were alienated. S. K. had
already been in rebellion against his father's plans for him;
he now moved from rebellion to resentful defiance. He re-
jected his father; he rejected his father's religion; and he re-
jected his father's God.
It is clear from the journal entries of this period that S. K.
no longer thinks of himself as a Christian. Under date of
October 13, 1835, he wrote a long critique of Christianity.
"Christianity and philosophy," he concludes, "cannot be
reconciled." His purpose is " to show the acknowledged dc
facto contradiction in the Christian life, in order to warn ev-
erybody whose breast is not enclosed in such spiritual corsets
24 Ha L I F E AND THOUCHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR BVfcRVMAN

not to let themselves in (or it carelessly, in order to protect

them against such narrow-chested, asthmatic notions." 1

During his holiday at Gillelcic, the preceding summer, he

had decided that his tastes and abilities were aesthetic and
intellectual, and that he was not going on with the study of
theology. H e had known that this decision would bring him
into conflict with his father; but he would face this conflict
with courage. So in a journal entry, rather melodramatically,
he exclaims: " And so the die is cast — I cross the Rubicon." *
He was, indeed, quite correct in appraising his abilities for
aesthetic insight and literary expression. H e was a rarely
gifted young man.
H e intended to become a writer. His journal in this period
is full of ideas which he noted down for possible future de-
velopment. Three traditional themes fascinated him: Don
Juan; Faust; and the Wandering Jew. All of these are figures
of frustration. They represent respectively desire, doubt, and
despair, and typify, as S. K. notes in a journal entry of
March, 1836, the three possible directions in which men may
move away from religion.* At this time S. K. was moving
away in all three directions!
As he was to sec later, he had set his feet on the " path of
perdition." He was not committed to the good; neither had
be deliberately chosen evil. H e was a dilettante, avidly pur-
suing the aesthetic life, which is a life of feeling. He lived
for thrills; he wanted, colloquially speaking, to get a " bang "
out of life. He was discovering, however, that not to choose
the good is to choose the evil. Even refined sensuality is a
morally irresponsible way of life.
H e found this way of life unsatisfying; his sensitive con-
science rebelled; and his melancholy deepened. So he
plunged more deeply into the aesthetic way in an effort to
 " M Y GOING ASTRAY " 25

escape himself. Drunkenness was a convenient " flight from

reality," and he was often drunk. He was outwardly gay,
debonair, witty, and cynical. At social affairs he was the life
of the party. But inwardly he was miserable. In a brief
Journal entry, dated April, 1836, he exclaims," I cannot even
forget myself when I am asleep."
I n another entry of approximately the same date he shows
a macabre humor: " A man walked along contemplating
suicide; at that very moment a slate fell and killed him, and
he died with the words: God be praised." T h e next entry is
even more explicit:

I have just returned from a party of which 1 was the life and
soul; wit poured from my lips; everyone laughed and admired
me —but I went away — and the dash should be as long as the
earth's orbit and
wanted to shoot myself."

Sometime in May, 1836, after a night of carousing, and in

a state of complete inebriation, he was taken by his com-
panions to a brothel, where he had relations with a prosti-
tute. This, after he had sobered, was only a dim memory. T o
some men it would have been a mere bagatelle. Years later
he was able to explain it psychologically ('* It was dread that
drove me to it " ) . But it was always to represent in Ins own
thinking the low point of his degradation and the damning
evidence of an eroticism which, conceal and suppress it as
he might, lay deep within himself. H e now knew that he
shared his father's guilt; but this was no comfort.

It was an event in his life that he kept so secret that even

in his Journals he makes only cryptic references to it. Eight
years later he was to write, " A man in a state of intoxication
may have done what he remembers only obscurely, yet
26 T H E L I F E AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

knows lhat it was so wild a thing that it is almost impossible

for him to recognize himself." "
There is a gap in the Journals from April 18 to June 6,
1836. S. K. was in a mood of extreme depression. T o have
confessed his sin to his father or to some other person older
and wiser than himself would have helped. But there was
n o one to whom he could bear to make confession. In a
Journal entry of June 10, he reveals his state of mind by in-
direction: " Situation: A man wants to make an important
confession, but the man he wishes to unbosom himself to
does not come at once, so he says something quite differ-
ent." '* His lips were sealed by an unconquerable reticence —
a secrctiveness which, so far as this one event is concerned,
he was never to overcome.
CHAPTER 3

" My Awakening "

T N APRIL, 1836, young Sorcn Kierkegaard was still

hell-bent, and appeared likely 1 0 get there. When
he resumed his Journal on June 6, he wanted to reform his
life, and was trying to do so. fust when and how this change
came will, perhaps, always be somewhat uncertain.
W c know from the diary of his friend Hcnrik Hertz that
S. K. was present on June 4 at a reception for J . L, Heiberg.
Hcibcrg was the literary lion of his day in Denmark, and his
wife was a famous actress. Among the other guests was
Prof. Paul Martin Moller, who was Sorcn's favorite teacher in
the university. As the conversation swirled about, S. K. was
at his " wildest and wittiest." It was in this situation (or one
very like it) that Moller said to his brilliant pupil, " You arc
so through and through polemicalized that it is perfectly
frightful."'

T h e shot struck home, and it sank deeper as S. K. thought

about it later. He was polemical, but for what? H e was a
fighter without anything to fight for. He was, therefore, not
serious in these discussions, and could as easily take one side
as another. H e argued because he enjoyed it, not because he
wanted to defend, much less discover, the truth.
S. K . was always to be polemical, both superficially in the
sense of being an ardent controversialist, and mote deeply in
27
28 T H E LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

the sense of being opposed to the accepted ways and outlook

of the society of which he was a part. He was always a rebel,
rebelling even against his own rebelliousness. This he could
not change; but he could use it — and did, or we would not
be writing and reading books about him now.
Mollcr's chance remark docs not seem very important to
us, but S. K. was later to attach great importance to it. Aside
from his father and Regina Olsen, Mollcr is the only person
to whom Kierkegaard ever dedicated a book. This was The
Concept of Dread ( 1 8 4 4 ) . He made several attempts to
phrase this dedication, and an unpublished version contains
these words;

To the late Professor Paul Martin Moller — the happy lover of

Greece, the admirer of Homer, the confident of Socrates, the in-
terpreter of Aristotle, . . . the enthusiasm of my youth, the
mighty trumpet of my awakening}

S. K.. in spite of his faults, must have been the kind of stu-
dent who is an inspiration and challenge to a teacher. Mollcr,
with rare insight, saw the promise of genius in this conceited
and cynical young man. So Mollcr took a keen interest in
young Kierkegaard, and even on his deathbed, two years
later, sent him a message of counsel and encouragement by
a mutual friend, Professor Sibbern.
It was typical of S. K. that Mollcr's " mighty trumpet"
was not much heeded at first. T h e first reference to it in the
Journals refers to it as a . cue." But it is a turning point; and
from June, 1836, on there is abundant evidence in the
Journals of S. K.'s desire to reform his life and, indeed, to
become a Christian.
H e had never had any deeply personal experience of God's
presence and help. H e bad, in childhood, absorbed his fa-
 " M Y AWAKENING 29

tbcr's faith; but he had never appropriated it. His tit si ef-
forts to change his way of life were made, therefore, entirely
on his own power. H e found this discouraging. On June 10
he wrote:

Conversion it a tlow progress. As Franz Bader truthfully says,

one hat to go back along the same road where one previously
went forward. One easily grows impatient; if it cannot happen
immediately, one might just as well give up. or begin tomorrow
and enjoy today; that is temptation — Surely that is the meaning
of the wordt; to lake the Kingdom of Heaven by storm — ?
We are therefore told that wc should work for our salvation in
fear and trembling, for it is never completed or perfect; but a re-
lapse it passible — and that is certainly in part the unrest which
made people desire martyrdom . . . so as to make the test as short
and momentarily difficult as possible, which is alwayi easier than
to endure a protracted one.*

Having renounced his evil companions, S. K at first cut

himself off from society. This, he found, was not good. " It is
dangerous to isolate oneself too much, to evade the bonds of
society."' So he returned to society; and, while he did not
neglect his relationships at higher intellectual levels, he re-
marks that talking with Heibcrg and other intellectuals was
n o recreation." Most of all," he says," I like to talk with old
women who retail family gossip, after them with lunatics —
least of all with very sensible people." Throughout his life
1

he was to enjoy the society of common folk and of children.

Often in these hard months of transition he felt himself to

be on the verge of insanity. T h e new year of 1837 seemed to
give him a fresh start. His journals contained an outline for
a sermon to be preached to himself. There is a long com-
ment on the moral and spiritual decadence of Western Eu-
rope. " At the moment one is afraid of nothing so much as
30 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

the complete bankruptcy toward which the whole of Europe

seems to be going, and so wc forget what is far more danger-
ous, the apparently unavoidable spiritual bankruptcy which
is at our doors."* He was concerned for Europe. He was
even more concerned for himself. Through the spring and
summer of 1837 it is clear that the " operation bootstrap by
which he is trying to lift himself to a higher level of morals
and achievement is not working very well. These are typical
excerpts from the Journals:

It seems as though I were a galley slave, chained to death; every

time life moves the chains rattle, and death withers everything —
and that happens every minulc.
Everyone lakes their revenge on the world. Mine consists in
bearing my troubles and sorrow shut deep within mc, while my
laughter keeps everyone amused. . . .
1 am a Janus bifrons; 1 laugh wiih one face, I weep with the
other.'

On September 1, 1837, Sorcn left his father's home, and

lived henceforth for several years in rented rooms, and had
his meals in boardingbouscs. M. P. Kierkegaard gave his son
an allowance which should have been quite ample for a stu-
dent in those days — the equivalent of about $100 a month
in terms of U.S. currency. There was now complete es-
trangement between them, though pride led the eighty-one-
year-old father to continue to provide for Sorcn financially.
Four months later, perhaps at Peter Kierkegaard's interces-
sion, their father paid Soren's accumulated debts. These had
probably piled up over a two-year period; but the crisis came
when Sorcn, who had been very active in the Student Asso-
ciation of the university, was posted for nonpayment of dues,
and threatened with expulsion.
 " M Y AWAKENING" 31
Some of the other debts arc interesting. T h e cafe which
S. K. and his drinking companions had frequented had a
bill for $560. H e owed " Madame F r c y " $105 for tobacco.
There were large bills for clothing and haberdashery. T h e
largest bill was for books, $794. Even though S. K. had led a
dissolute life, he had never abandoned his intellectual in-
terests!
During the year 1837-1838, Sorcn attended a course of lec-
tures in theology in the university, delivered by Prof. Hans
Martcnsen. He also secured employment as a teacher of
Latin in the Borgcrsdydskolc, and taught throughout the
year. His teaching of Latin gave him some apt metaphors:
" My life is, alas, all too conjunctive, would to God I had
some indicative power." And again: " All other religions are
oblique, the founder stands aside and introduces another
speaker . . . Christianity alone is direct speech (I am the
truth).""
His desire to become a Christian was deepening as bis ap-
preciation of the meaning of Christian faith grew. H e still
believed that Christianity and philosophy could not be recon-
ciled ; but he was nearing the point of being willing to sacri-
fice philosophy. On December 8 he wrote, " 1 think that if
ever 1 become seriously Christian, I shall be most ashamed of
having wished to try everything else first."*
There is another long gap in the Journals for the early
months of 1838. S. K. was depressed, and his depression was
deepened by the death of Professor Moller on March 13. T h e
Journal is resumed three weeks later with this entry:

Once again a long time has gone by in which I have not been
able to concentrate upon the slightest thing — I will now try to
get started again.
Paul Moller U dead. 10
32 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT O F KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

On April 2, S. K. went to hear his friend Rasmus Nielsen

recite Mollcr's poem " Joy Over Denmark." In the Journals
he says that he was unusually moved by the words, " Re-
member the traveler far away," and comments, " Yes, now
he is far away — but I, at least, shall still remember h i m . "
11

Mollcr's death sounded again that " mighty trumpet" of

Kierkegaard's awakening; and sounded it, perhaps, more ef-
fectively because the traveler was now " far away."
S. K . sometime in the next month, began a serious effort to
find his way into a new relationship to God. In late April or
early May, Michael Pcdcrsen Kierkegaard sought out his
son and effected a reconciliation. T h e means by which the
old man accomplished this cannot be surely known to us. It
seems probable that he bared bis soul to his wayward and re-
bellious son, fully confessing the sins that S. K. had sus-
pected. These sins (rebellion against God and sexual lust and
incontinence) had separated father and son. T h e dread of
them had driven the son into a reckless, dissolute life, in
which he became guilty of the same sins.
Now, by the father's act of humility and love, the sorrow-
ing and repentant old man and the lonely and repentant
young man were drawn together again. S. K. came to under-
stand that it was a father's love that was expressed in his
" c r a z y upbringing"; M. P. Kierkegaard now saw that it
was the shattering of the idol of father-love that had driven
his son into such excesses and such hostility.
So they were reconciled. S. K. does not mention it in his
Journals. Perhaps he felt it was an experience too deeply per-
sonal for this document which he believed would one day be
(as indeed it has become) public property. It is clear, how-
ever, that reconciliation with his earthly father opened the
way for reconciliation with his Heavenly Father. O n April 22
 M Y AWAKENING 33
he had written. " K Christ is to come and take up his abode
in me, it must happen according to the title of today's Gospel
in the Almanac: Christ came in through locked d o o r s . " 11

Psychologically S. K.'s estrangement from God had been

linked with his estrangement from his father. Now the doors
were opened.
T h e \ournd entry of May 19 was a significant one for
Kierkegaard, as indicated by the fact that he pinpoints the
very hour and minute:

Half past ten in the morning. There is an indescribahle joy

which enkindles us as inexplicably as the apostle's outburst comes
gratuitously: " Rejoice I say unto you. and again 1 uy unto you,
rejoice." Not a joy over this or that but the soul's mighty song . . .
from the bottom of the heart: " 1 rejoice through my joy. in, at,
with, over, by, and with ray joy " — a heavenly refrain, as it were,
suddenly breaks off our other song; a joy which cools and re-
freshes us like a breath of wind, a wave of air, from the trade
wind which blows from the plains of Mamre to the everlasting
habitations."

T h e mention of Mamre is symbolic. It was on the plains

of Mamre that Abraham sat in the open door of his lent and
welcomed the visitation from God. This experience of inde-
scribable joy was Sorcn Kierkegaard's conversion experience.
It was to be followed by other and deepening experiences in
subsequent years; but from May 19, 1838, at half past ten in
the morning, he knew that he was a Christian.
T h e struggles of the soul were not over. Just when he had
won this greatest of all victories — over self-will in complete
surrender lo God's will — he encountered something he did
not want to do. He had not been to Communion since the
fall of 1815. Now he found that he had a strange dread of re-
turning to the sacrament. This " dread of coming to the al-
J4 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

tar " he was later to recognize as demonic. There was still a

struggle for his soul.
It is this dread that explains the next, cryptic entry in his
Journal: " Idtes fixes arc like a cramp in the foot — the best
cure is to stamp on i t . " From the parish register of the ca-
14

thedral Church of Our Lady wc learn that Sorcn Aabye

Kierkegaard on the same day (July 6 ) came alone to the
church and received Holy Communion from the resident
chaplain, E . V . Kalthoff. With both resoluteness and humil-
ity the prodigal had returned.
O n the next day he wrote, " God creates out of nothing;
wonderful, you say; yes, to be sure, but he does what is still
more wonderful: he makes saints out of sinners." "
A Journal entry of July 9 is a prayer, the first of many writ-
ten prayers to appear in his works:

How I thank thec, Father in Heaven, that thou hast preserved

to me here on earth, for a time like the present when I stand so
greaily in need of it, an earthly father, who, as I hope, shall by
thy help find more joy in being for a second time my father than
he had the first time. '
1

T h e three months following the experience of indescrib-

able joy were a period of rare hopefulness in Sorcn Kierke-
gaard's life. This is clearly seen in the next two entries in the
Journal:
9.1 mean IO labor to achieve a far more inward relation to
Christianity; hitherto I have fought for its truth while in a sense
standing outside it. In a purely outward sense I have carried
Christ's cross, like Simon of Cyrcne.
July 10.1 hope that where my satisfaction with life here at home
is concerned, the same thing happens to mc that happened to the
man I once read about who was also tired of his home — and
 M Y AWAKENING 55

wanted to ride away; when be had gone a short distance his horse
stumbled and fell and as he picked himself up again he saw his
home, which now seemed so beautiful to him that he at once
mounted his horse, rode home and remained there. If one only
gets the right view of it. '
1

S. K.'» first published articles had appeared in a Copen-

hagen newspaper in 1835 and 1836. H e was working on a
critique of Hans Christian Andersen as a novelist, and this
would be published in September. He had begun to think of
himself as a man of letters. H e wrote to his friend Emil
Bocscn, " What is more absurd than an homme de leitres
preparing for an examination? " Absurd though it seemed,
he felt it his duty to prepare for his long-ncglcctcd examina-
tions in theology. This decision must have pleased M. P.
Kierkegaard; but the eighty-two-year-old man was not to
live to see his son pass the theological examination. H e died
on August 9, 1838. In the Journals we find this entry for
August 11:

My father died on Wednesday (the 9th) at 2 A.M. I had so very

much wished that he might live a few years longer, and look upon
his death as the last sacrifice he made to his love for me; for he
did not die from me, but died for mc in order thai if posublc I
might still turn into something. *
1

Sorcn felt that the strain of making the sacrifices necessary

to their reconciliation had hastened his father's death. In this
he was very possibly correct. H e felt his loss deeply. His fa-
ther's memory was to be one of the two truly deep influences
in his life. It is typical of him that be made an exaggerated
effort to conceal his sorrow. HeruTette Lund gives us this
account:
36 T H E LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KTERKF.CAARD FOR EVERYMAN

In the autumn of 1838, Uncle Sorcn's father died. , . , Uncle

Soren treated the whole thing as a bagatelle. How much he felt
the last illness, and how deeply he fell the loss of his father, only
became clear to me later. . . . He continued to all appearances to
lead the same life, met his friends at the cafe" as usual, and walked
about the streets with the same energy; only that from 7 till 11
o'clock in the evening he would receive no visitors. During those
hours he studied sedulously; and in a very short time he pre-
pared himself for the examination upon which grandfather set so
much store.* 0

After seven years of dalliance and neglect, Kierkegaard's

friends were convinced that he would never qualify for his
examination in theology. But the memory of a dead father's
earnest wish could not be argued with as could the often ex-
pressed wish of a living father. " When father died, Sibbern
said to m e , ' Now you will never take your theological exami-
nation,' and it was precisely then that I took it; if father had
lived I should never have taken i t . " "

After nearly two years of assiduous study, he took the

examination, and passed it cum laudc on July 3,1840. A year
later, on July 16,1841, his thesis on " T h e Concept of Irony "
was accepted by the faculty in completion of the require-
ments for the master's degree.
CHAPTER 4

" Sovereign of My Heart "

I N THE MEANTIME young Sorcn Kierkegaard bad

fallen in love. T o get the whole story we must re-
trace our steps briefly to the month of May, 1837. On a day
in this month S. K. made a call on the Rordams, the family
of a deceased clergyman, living in Frcdcriksbcrg, a Copen-
hagen suburb. Bolette Rordam, with whom he had a " pla-
tonic " friendship, was engaged to another theological stu-
dent. This was in the period when S. K. was desperately
struggling back toward decency. Because of his moral lapse
a year earlier, he had made a penitential resolve that he
would never marry. His resolution encountered a severe
shock at the Rordams'. H e met Rcgina Olscn, and his life
would never again be the same.

His journals contain no explicit record of this first meet-

ing. T w o entries, however, seem to express his inner thoughts
on the occasion. T h e first is dated May 8 :

Oh God, how easily one forgets such resolutions! . . . Today

again I tried to forget myself . . . by going out to the Rordams
and talking with Bolette and by trying (if possible) to get my
demoniacal wit to remain at home, the angel which, as I deserve,
stands with a sword of fire between me and every innocent girl —
I thank thee, O Lord, that when thou overtookest me thou didst
37
38 T H E LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

not let me go mad at once — I have never been so afraid of it —

and I thank thee for having once more inclined thine car towards
me- 1

T h e second entry, undated, was written sometime between

May 8 and June 2, and is equally cryptic Regina, years later,
believed this to be S . K.'s record of their first meeting:

Again the same scene today — nevertheless 1 got out to the

Rordams — merciful God, why should thai inclination awaken
just now — Oh, how 1 feel that I am atone — Oh, cursed be that
arrogant satisfaction in standing alone — all will despise mc now
— but thou, O my God, take not thy hand ftom mc now — let
mc live and better myself.*

Regina was fourteen at the time. She was the youngest

child in the large family of a prominent official in the Minis-
try of Finance. She had gone to the Rordams' to attend a
party for an out-of-town guest, Thrinc Dahl, of Roskilde.
S. K . fell in love with Regina at first sight. She cannot be said
to have fallen in love at their first meeting, but he made " a
very strong impression " on her. She, however, concealed this
impression. She remembered after many years that at this
first meeting " he talked coniinuously . . . and that his con-
versation was captivating in the highest degree."
S. K. saw her only occasionally at first, usually at the Ror-
dams', where he contrived to call at times when he knew she
would be there. H e was at the Rordams' on July 9, and, in a
journal entry, exclaims upon his loneliness.
His loneliness and his love for Regina now battled within
him against his resolution to lead a celibate life. He had never
been more acutely aware of his aloneness. In December he
wrote:
 SOVEREIGN OF M Y HEART " 39
The oilier day 1 sat in a strange mood . . . and read an old folk
song which told of a girl who waited for her lover one Saturday
afternoon; hut he did not come — and she went to bed " and cried
bitterly"; suddenly the scene widened out for me — I saw the
heaths of Jutland in dieir indescribable loneliness and with their
solitary larches — then one generation after another stood up be-
fore me, and their girls sang for me and cried so bitterly and
sank back into the grave, and I cried with them.'

A t this time he was still alienated from God, though he

was seeking to return. He was also separated from his father.
Added to these now was his seemingly hopeless love for a
young girl. As we have seen, he found God and was recon-
ciled with his father in the spring of 1838. In the summer he
began to consider a return to his theological studies, which
would mean a return to normalcy in general. On July 17 he
wrote to his friend Emil Boesen:

What do you think? Is it time, do you think, to land? Dare I

leave my ark, or better still my badly manned smack (there is
only one man on board, and that is I, and I am but weak, and
like the sailor in Gtllelcic who had only an arm and a half but
always sailed alone) ? *

He began to think hopefully of the possibility of marriage.

" Even before my father died," he wrote in his Journals, " I
had decided upon her. . . . I read for the examination. Dur-
ing the whole of that time 1 let her being penetrate mine." *
H e began to express his thoughts about her in the Journals,
not frequently, but freely. O n October 11 (1838) he wrote,
" Being in love is really the most interesting time, when after
the first and completely magical impression, with each meet-
ing and every look, . . . one carries something home like a
bird which busily carries one piece after another to its nest,
and yet always feels itself overwhelmed by such riches." *
40 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

A Journal entry of February 2 , 1 8 3 9 , is rapturous:

Thou sovereign of my heart (" Regina " ) treasured in the deep-
est fastness of my breast, in the fullness of my thought, there
where it is equally far to heaven and to hell — unknown divinity!
Oh, can 1 really believe the poets' talcs, that when one first sees
the object of one's love, one imagines one has seen her long ago,
that all love like all knowledge is remembrance, that love too has
its prophecies in the individual, its types, its myths, its Old Testa-
ment. Everywhere, in the face of every girl I see traces of your
beauty, but it seems to me ih3i 1 should have to possess ihc beauty
of all girls in order to draw out a beauty equal to yours; that I
should have to circumnavigate the world in order to find the
e I lack and which the deepest mystery of my being points
towards — and the next moment you arc so near to me, so present,
filling my spirit so powerfully that 1 am transfigured for myself,
and feel that it is good to be here.

Thou blind god of love! Wilt ihou reveal to mc what thou sccst
in secret? Shall I find what I am seeking, here in this world shall
1 experience the conclusion of my life's eccentric premises, shall I
fold you in my arms — or:
are the orders " F U R T H E R "?
Hast thou gone before me, thou my yearning, dost thou beckon
to mc, transformed, from another world? Or will 1 cast every-
thing from mc in order to be light enough to follow t h e e ? 1

Kierkegaard was deeply in love, he longed for his beloved

like any lover, but — he was already prepared to give her u p !
H e distrusted himself and doubted that happiness in love
could ever be his. Obsessed with his own sinfulness, and pos-
sessed by his congenital melancholy, he doubted that he
could change. He was sure of his love for Regina, but unsure
of his ability to " cast everything " away in order to follow
where love would lead.
H e did not doubt his ability to woo and win the woman
 " SOVEREIGN OF M Y HEART" -II

of his choice; bur. he believed thai his life was controlled by

" governance." Specifically he believed it might not be God's
plan for him to have Rcgina as his wife. He was still uncer-
tain " what God meant by " him, but he was sure God had a
plan in which all the " eccentric premises " of his life would
be fulfilled. Were love and marriage a part of that plan?
This was his question.
God's plan for most men included love and marriage. This
was the ordinary human point of view. There was no cer-
tainty, however, that the ordinary human point of view
would be applicable to God's plan for Sorcn Kierkegaard.
More than two years after he first met Rcgina, on June 5,
1839, he wrote, " Chrisiianity's point of view in relation to
the ordinary human point of view is like the relation of
church and state, it docs not deny the stale except in so far
as the latter tries to interfere with i t . " '
If S. K.'s plan to woo and win Regina for his wife was not
part of God's plan — if it interfered with God's plan — then
it would come to nought. God's will be done! Even before
he had begun to woo Rcgina, he suspected that " govern-
ance " would require him to give her up.
During most of this time (i.e., 1838-1840) he was prepar-
ing for his theological examination. It required long hours of
study, most of them at night. He made no effort to let R c -
gina know of his love for her. But he managed to see her
frequently by various subterfuges. He tells of one of these in
"Quidam's D i a r y " :
Once a week she went to her singing lesson. . . . Now it
chanced happily that in die same street there dwelt a pastry cook
whose shop she passed as she went to and fro for her lessons. Here
I had my post of observation. Here I sat and waited, here I saw
her, myself unseen, here love's hidden growth waxed and devel-
42 THE L I F E AND THOUGHT OF KIFJLK EGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

oped before my eyes to my great contentment. It was a second-

class coffeehouse where I could be prcuy sure not to be surprised.
Nevertheless, some of my familiar friends took notice of it. 1
represented to them that the coffee was the best in the whole
town, 1 even exhorted them with much pathos to try it. A few of
them went there one day and tasted — naturally finding it very
poor, as indeed it was. . . . T o my taste too the coffee was
bad. . . . I drank . . . without giving much thought to it; but
here it was I waited, here ii was 1 approached with longing the
experience of love and refreshed it with the sight of her, and from
here I took much home when the sight had vanished." 1 0

H e also contrived during this period to get acquainted

with Regina's family, and became a family friend, whose oc-
casional calls were both taken for granted antl welcomed.
On these visits (as she reported years later) he paid no ob-
vious attention to Regina beyond taking her an occasional
gift of nuts. He also loaned her books to read.
In July, 1840, after he had passed the theological examina-
tion, S. K. took a trip to his father's old home in Jutland. O n
his return to Copenhagen, he began his courtship. In a loose
paper (not, strictly speaking, a part of his Journals) simply
headed " My relation to her," and written on August 24,
1849, Kierkegaard reviewed the story of his acquaintance
with Regina, his courtship, and the events diat followed. In
this account of the affair, having spoken of his trip to Jut-
land, he continues:

In August I returned. The period from August 9 till the begin-

ning of September I used in the strict sense to approach her.
On September 8 I left my house with the firm purpose of de-
ciding the matter. We met each other in the street outside their
house. She said there was nobody at home. I was foolhardy
enough to look upon that as an invitation, just the opportunity
 " SOVEREIGN OP M Y HEART

I wanted. I wem in with her. She was a little uneasy. I asked her
to play me something as she usually did. She did so; but that did
not help me. Then suddenly I took the music away and closed it,
not without a certain violence, threw it down on the piano and
said: " Oh, what do I care about music now] It is you whom I
haw sought after for two years" She was silent. I did nothing
else to make an impression upon her; I even warned her against
myself, against my melancholy. . . .
She remained quite silent. At last I left, for I was anxious leu
someone should come and find both of us and she so disturbed."

Kierkegaard went immediately to see her father and asked

for the hand of his daughter in marriage. Etatsraad Olsen
gave the young man no definite answer; but il was clear to
S. K. (hat the father was willing. On the afternoon of Sep-
tember 10, he was permitted to call on Rcgina and renew his
proposal. She said yes.
By the next day he saw that he had made a mistake. He
loved Rcgina deeply, but felt that there were sirong reasons
within himself why he should not marry her. Rightly or not,
he believed himself to be " uncommonly erotic," an inherit-
ance from his father. This eroticism had found the basest
possible expression in his drunken visit to a brothel. All his
life was to be spent as a penitent, not only for this single
overt act, but for his continuing eroticism, of which he was
deeply ashamed.
H e was also, as he had warned Rcgina, a melancholy man.
She was a child of laughter and sunshine. He felt that he
would make her very unhappy in marriage, that his melan-
choly would always cast a pall of gloom over their life
together.
Specifically he faced the prospect of the marriage vows and
the b t t r k r to his taking them with complete sincerity. T o do
44 THE L I F E AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

so would require previous confession to Regina of his visit to

a prostitute. His natural reticence made it difficult for him
to confess his sin even to Regina — o r , perhaps, especially to
Regina. She was a young girl of great purity and innocence.
He could not bear to shock and hurt her in this way.
At the same time he could not bear to shock and hurt her
by immediately breaking off the engagement. He loved her
deeply, and so he went on with it, but he was very unhappy.
He suffered unspeakably. But Regina noticed nothing. She
was happy, gloriously and beautifully happy, in being loved
by one who had previously been for her a teen-ager's idol.
There was also a very natural pride in having for her own
a man ten years her senior and one of the most eligible young
bachelors in Copenhagen society. In the happy first days of
their engagement she was in very high spirits. She told him
tcasingly that she had accepted him out of pity. It seemed to
S. K. that she was not so much in love with him as she was
overwhelmed by the glamour of this new antl delightful
relationship.
This would have been his opportunity to break the engage-
ment while it could still be done without wounding her too
deeply. But he was proud too, and was a little nettled by her
lightheadedness — " She vexed m c . " So, instead of breaking
it off, he set himself to win her, drawing upon all the re-
sources of his own dynamic personality. H e succeeded so
well that, as he says, " she worshiped m c . " Then he was even
more unhappy. H e was in a dilemma: it would be unethical
to break the engagement and break her heart; it would be
unethical to marry her and break her heart.
It was not long before Regina began to notice his unhappi-
ness. " You arc never happy," she said, " a n d it is all one to
you whether I am with you or not." But she also told him
 " SOVEREIGN OP M Y HEART " 45

that she would never ask him about anything ii only she
might remain with him. In his later (1849) account of the
affair, he writes:

One thing is certain; that she gave herself to me, almost wor-
shiping me, asking me to love her, which moved me to such an
extent ihai I was willing to risk all for her. . . . If I had not been
a penitent, had not had my vita ante acta, had not been mel-
ancholy, my union with her would have made me happier than
I had ever dreamed of being."

Rut he was all these things; and he was not happy. Kierke-
gaard was one of the most paradoxical of men. H e was hap-
pier in his unhappiness when he was away from her than he
was in what should have been his happiness when he was
with her. He could never, himself, be happy, and to marry
Rcgina would be to impose his unhappiness on her. As he
contemplated their marriage, he felt that he would have to
hide so much from her that the whole relationship would be
based upon falsehood. It could not be a truly Christian
marriage.
This, he believed, was God's judgment upon him, the pun-
ishment for his waywardness, arrogance, and gross sin. This
thought was to him the deciding factor. God did not will
him to marry Rcgina. " There was a divine protest," he says;
" that is how I understood it."
All this did not become clear to him at once. T h e engage-
ment went on for nearly a year. He was a diligent student in
the " Pastoral Seminary," but he must also have spent much
time in making love. H e was often in the Olsen home, and
between times he wrote her love letters. In these he could
truly sign himself" thine forever " ; he would indeed love her
always, but he could not marry her. So, on August 14, 1841,
46 mi M i l . AND THOUGHT OF K11 H K FGA ADD FOR F.VERYMAN

he sen! back her ring, accompanying it with the following

note:

Not to put often to the test a thing which must be done, and
which when once it is done will supply the strength that is
needed — 1 0 let it be done. Above all forget him who write* this;
forgive a man who, though he may be capable of something, is
not capable of making a girl happy.**

T h e first sentence may have been quite difficult for Regina

to interpret; but, accompanied by the ring, the general im-
port of the note was quite clear. Regina, however, did not
give up easily:

What did she do? In her womanly despair she overstepped the
boundary. She . . . knew that 1 was melancholy; she intended
that anxiety should drive mc to extremes. The reverse happened.
She certainly brought me to the point at which anxiety drove mc
to extremes; hut then with gigantic strength I constrained my
whole nature so as to repel her. There was only one thing to do
and that was to repel her with all my power.
During those two momhs of deceit 1 observed a careful caution
in what I said to her from time to time: G i v e in, let mc go; you
cannot hear it. Thereupon she answered passionately thjt she
would bear anything rather than let mc go.
1 also suggested giving the appearance that i( was the who
broke of! the engagement, « i that she might be spared all offense.
That she would no* have. She answered: tf she could bear the
other she could hear this too. And not uniocratically she said: In
her presence no one would let anything be noticed, and what peo-
ple said in her absence remained a matter of indifference.
It was a time of terrible suffering to have to be so cruel and
at the same time to love as I did. She fought like a tigress. If 1
had not believed that God had lodged a veto she would have been
victorious.
 ''SOVEREIGN OV MY H E A R T " 47
And so about two months later it broke. She grew desperate.
For the first time in my life I scolded. It was the only thing to do.
When I left her I went immediately to the Theater because I
wanted to meet Emit Boesen. . . . The act was finished. As I left
the stalls Etatsraad Olsen came up to me and said. " May I speak
with y o u ? " We went together to his house. " I t will be her
death, she is in absolute despair." I said. " 1 shall calm her down;
but everything is settled." He said," I am a proud man and 1 find
it difficult to say. but I beg you, do not break with her." He was
indeed a nohlehearted man; I was deeply moved. But 1 did not
let myself be persuaded. I remained with the family to dinner. I
spoke to her as I left. The following morning I received a letter
from him saying she had not slept all night, and asking me to go
and see her. I went and tried to persuade her. She asked me: " Are
you never going to marry?" I answered, " Y e s , perhaps in ten
years' time when I shall have sown my wild oats; then 1 shall
need some young blood to rejuvenate me." That was a necessary
cruelty. Then she said, " Forgive me for the pain I have caused
you." I answered: " I t is for me to ask forgiveness." She said:
" Promise to think of me." I did so. " Kiss me." she said. I did so,
but without passion. Merciful Godl

And so we parted. I spent the whole night crying on my bed.

But the next day I behaved as usual, wittier and in better spirits
than ever. That was necessary. My brother told me he wanted to
go to the family and show them that I was not a scoundrel. " If
you do so, I will put a bullet through your head," which is the
best proof of how deeply concerned I was. . . . I suffered greatly.
1 thought of her every day. Until now I have kept my promise
and have prayed for her at least once and often twice a day in
addition to the other times I might think about her."

T h e broken engagement created a furore in Copenhagen.

Kierkegaard purposely acted the part of a scoundrel who had
toyed with the affections of a young girl and then tossed her
aside. Almost everyone believed this version of the affair.
48 THE L I F E AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

One story was circulated that while the Olscns were trying
to discuss with him his reasons for breaking the engagement,
he had looked at his watch, and said to the family that if they
had anything else in their minds would they please say it,
as he had to go to the theater.
He had a few loyal friends, among them his own brother,
Peter, and Emil Boesen. Regina's older sister Cordelia also
expressed her faith in him: " I do not understand Magister
Kierkegaard, but 1 believe he is a good man." "
Kierkegaard facet) the storm of criticism for two weeks,
then, on October 25,1841, he departed for Berlin. There he
planned to pursue his studies, particularly to hear a course of
lectures by the best-known of living German philosophers,
Schelling, and do some writing. His brother and Emil Boesen
saw him off at the pier, and Boesen engaged to keep him in-
formed of Regina s activities and health. S. K. planned to
spend a year and a half in Berlin.
Henrictte Lund gives us an intimate insight into S. K.'s
mood:
I . . . did not know that Uncle Soren had broken off his en-
gagement when, shortly after we had moved into town in the
autumn, the message came that we were to go and see him. At
that time he lived in the old house on Nytorv with Uncle Peter,
who had just been married to Hermetic Glahn. . . . When we
children . . . arrived that evening, she was very friendly to us,
delighted that we had thought of visiting her on our own initia-
tive; but she was soon put right about her mistake when, in the
very same moment, Uncle Sorcn came to fetch us to his room. He
looked very moved, and instead of the usual jokes he kissed me
so gendy on the head that my heart was touched. A moment later
he wanted to talk to us, but broke into tears and without knowing
what there was to cry about — that at least was the cue with me
— just moved by bis suffering, we were soon all crying together
 SOVEREICN OK M Y HEART "

ai though in tome great sorrow. Hut Uncle Sdren soon pulled

himself together and explained that he was going to Berlin . . .
perhaps to remain away a long time; we roust therefore promise
to write to bim regularly. . . . We gave our promises between
our sobs. In the sitting room, to which we soon returned, we
found Uncle Peter reading aloud to his wife; for our takes a game
was played, and everything was done to distract us a little. . . .
At tni| time 1 was twelve years old, and was not very happy writ-
ing letters, but nevertheless the promise was kept, and the an-
swer* were just as regular.'*

S. K. had been neglecting his Journals for some time. O n

the day of his sailing for Berlin, he begins again, and the
entries continue during the voyage and during his stay in
Berlin. Most of them have to do with love and Rcgina. Some
of them are rather incoherent; but they reveal his stale of
mind:

What I have lost, the only thing I loved; what 1 have lost, in
the eyes of men my word of honor; what I have lost, what 1 still
and always shall . . . stake my honor, my happiness, my pride in
— being faithful. . . . Yet at the present m o m e n t as I write this,
in a cabin shaken by the double movement of a steam packet, my
soul is as shaken as my body.
My tin it that 1 did not have faith, the faith that to God all
things are possible; but where it the boundary between that and
tempting God? but my sin has never been that I did not love her.
Had she not given herself to me with such devotion, trusted her-
self to H i ' - , stopped living for herself in order to live for me, then
the whole thing would have been an easy matter; to fool the
whole world docs not weigh heavily upon me, but to deceive a
young girl — Oh, if 1 dared return to her; and even though the
did not believe that 1 was false, she certainly believed that once
1 was free I would never turn back. But . . . I will act firmly and
50 THR LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

clearly from ihc point of view which I conceive to be the right

one. . . .
And yet (here is still a fear which tortures me. Supposing she
really becomes convinced that I deceived her, supposing she falls
in love with someone else, which I must naturally wish for in
many ways — supposing she then suddenly discovers that 1 really
love her, that I had done so out of love for her . . . then the last
would be worse than the first. . . .
Again today I tried to give her some kind of account, to let her
suspect thai I love her all the same. My mind is so inventive and
there is something satisfying in thinking one has devised a shrewd
plan. I should write a letter home to be printed. The title would
be: My R — that would be enough for her. The letter itself would
be full of subtle insinuations. But it must not be; I bow beneath
God's hand. Every time a thought such as that occurs to me, and
it usually happens many times a day, I transform it into a prayer
for her, that all may truly be for the best for her, as I wish it. . . .
The thing is settled now, once and for all, and yet 1 shall never
have finished with it. She docs not know what an advocate she
has within me. She was clever. In parting she asked me to think
of her sometimes. She knew well that once 1 remembered her the
fat would be in the fire. Yet even without her having asked me
I should have done so. . . .
There ii indeed a communion of suffering with God, a pact in
tears, which in itself is very beautiful."

Here we glimpse a life of inwardness in which love blends

with resignation, wishfulncss is controlled by stern resolve,
and loneliness and suffering find fellowship with God.
Kierkegaard's genius was to find unique expression in the
understanding and communication of inwardness.
Outwardly, both in Copenhagen and Berlin, life went on
in about the way one would expect. S. K.'s broken engage-
ment was for months a favorite subject for gossip in Copen-
 " SOVERF.ICN OF M Y HEART " 51

hagen, H e forbade Emil Bocsen lo counteract the rumors

that S. K. had behaved quite dishonorably in breaking his
engagement to Rcgina Olscn. He begged for news of Regina,
and even suggested that Boesen station himself in the pastry
cook's shop in order to study Rcgina's appearance as she
passed by and report on how she was bearing up.
One of Bocsen's reports was that Rcgina was having
Kierkegaard's four nephews and two nieces visit her fre-
quently (the beginning, incidentally, of a lifelong friend-
ship). From this it appeared to Kierkegaard that Regina had
not given up, that she might be planning to use these chil-
dren of whom he was so fond in some kind of " flank at-
tack " on his (inn resolution not to marry her. " She is
clever," he wrote Boesen," and a year under my auspices has
not exactly made her more simple-minded." "
Kierkegaard suffered from severe headaches during the
winter. He did not consult n physician because atl the Danes
of the student group in Berlin would know it, and word of it
might get back to Rcgina. Near the end of February, in a
letter to Peter Kierkegaard, he indicated that he had had
enough of Schelling's lectures, and did not intend to stay in
Berlin much longer. His major accomplishment in Berlin
was writing the second volume of his first important work,
Euher/Or. It was Hearing completion, and he was eager to
get back to Copenhagen to sec to Us publication. News from
Emil Boesen that Rcgina was ill hastened S. K.'s departure
from Berlin. H e wrote Bocsen, asking him to explain to peo-
ple that his reason for returning to Copenhagen after only six
months was that Schelling's lectures were nearly over. On
March 6 (1842) he left Berlin on the return journey.
Before her engagement to Kierkegaard, Rcgina had had
an "understanding" of some sort with Fritz Schlcgcl, a
52 T H E U P E AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR FVFRYMAN

young Danish civil servant. T h e developments which fol-

lowed S. K.'s return to Berlin are best told in his own words:
1 only remained in Berlin six monihs. Actually my intention
was to remain away a year and a half. The fact that I came Kick
so soon must have attracted her attention. And indeed it did. and
she waited for me after Mynster's sermon on the first Sunday after
Easter. But I rejected her advances. My intention was to repel
her. 1 did not want her to think that 1 had been thinking of her
whilst 1 was away. Moreover I knew from Sibbcrn that she her-
self had said that she could not bear seeing me. Now that was
not the case as I truly saw; but I was obliged to think she could
not hear speaking to me.

For the rest it would seem she took the most decisive step in
her life under my auspices. Shortly before her engagement to
Schlcgel she discovered me in a church. I did not avoid her look.
She nodded to me twice. I shook my head. That meant. " Y o u
mtisl give me up." She nodded again and 1 nodded in as friendly
a manner as possible. That meant. " You have rciained my love."
Then after she had become engaged to Schlcgel (1843) she met
mc in the street and greeted me in as friendly and confiding a
way at possible. I did not understand her. for I had not heard
about the engagement. I only looked inquiringly at her and shook
my head. She certainly thought I knew about the engagement
and was asking for my approval.
When the banns of marriage were published (1847) I was
present in the church."

Even though it was something he had wished for, Regina's

engagement to Schlcgel was at first a severe blow to Kierke-
gaard. She had sworn that she would never marry — that she
would renounce the world, and become a governess. He was
not, at the time, emotionally prepared to accept the idea that
the woman he loved so deeply had finally and irrevocably
given him up, and was going to marry someone else.
 " SOVP.RF.ICN OF M Y HEART " 55

But he did accept it, anil some years later (1855), when
Schlcgcl was sent as governor to the Danish West Indies,
S. K. could refer to Regina humorously as " my dear little
governess." H e kept her letters in a rosewood pedestal; and
he kept her in his heart. He believed that she had made him
what he was — a poet at heart, and a writer of great original-
ity and power. In 1851, his Two Discourses at the Commun-
ion on Fridays was published with the dedication:

To One Unnamed
whose name some day shall be named
is dedicated,
together with this little work\,
the whole production of the author from the very beginning.

In May, 1848, he wrote in his Journal;

How extraordinary, Socrates always spoke of having learnt
from a woman. Oh, I can also say, I owe what is best in me to a
girl; but I did not exactly learn it from her, I learnt through her.**
CHAPTER 5

"Either/Or"

K M RKECAARD'S RETURN from Berlin was in part

occasioned by bis desire to complete Either/Or
and arrange for its publication. It was to be in two volumes.
He arrived in Copenhagen in March, 1842, with the manu-
script of the second volume virtually completed. By Novem-
ber he had finished the first, and had turned over to the
printer the last additions and revisions. T h e book was pub-
lished on February 20, 1843.
It was his first notable work. Like all his " aesthetic writ-
ings," it was published pscudonymously. There seem to have
been two reasons for this pscudonymity. One was that when
he wrote these books he had already passed beyond them in
his thinking, and they therefore did not say what he wished
to say in his own name. T h e other reason was philosophical.
H e believed that life is primarily a matter, not of what
we think, but of what we feel. T h e more deeply we feel
about things, the more we live and find the meaning of life.
I n an age of science wc arc likely to become confused about
meanings. T o describe a thing objectively in terms of dimen-
sions, density, or weight, is to describe it abstractly. A certain
young woman can, for instance, be accurately described as
five feet, seven inches tall, with 36-23-36 girth and a cephalic
54
 " EITHER/OR" 55

index of 80. But these statistics do not at all express what she
means to her friends.
Kierkegaard believed that all abstract descriptions and ex-
planations fail to convey the real meaning of our deepest
experiences and relationships. In a succession of books writ-
ten between 1842 and 1848, he was trying to give his readers
an authentic sense of the meaning of life. Direct communica-
tion, he thought, could never do this; it must be accom-
plished by indirection. H e must subtly beguile his readers
into a grasp of truth. Therefore, he did not " lecture " them
in his own name. This complexity of his approach is typical
of the complexity of his own nature. In the pseudonymous
works, the supposed authors through their fictitious charac-
ters hold a mirror up to life — a mirror in which every man
may see himself, and so come to know himself.
From the beginning of his authorship, Kierkegaard had a
religious purpose: he wanted to confront men with Christi-
anity. Yet his major efforts at the beginning were devoted
to aesthetic expression. This was part of his strategy for mak-
ing the true nature of Christianity clear to men. " If real
success is to attend the effort to bring man to a definite posi-
tion, one must first of all take pains to find him where he is
and begin t h e r e . "
1

When he wrote Either/Or and the other aesthetic works,

S. K., having moved beyond the aesthetic level, had to ex-
press the thoughts and feelings of himself as a younger man
through what he calls " recollection." Either/Or does not say
what he would have said in 1843, but what he would have
said in 1835-1836.
Kierkegaard begins Either/Or with a " Dear Reader " sort
of preface. Here the pseudonymous author of the whole
work, Victor Eremita, tells of discovering, in a secret com-
56 THE L I F E AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

partmcnt of an antique desk, a mass of papers. These, when

examined, turned out to be two separate manuscripts. They
were in different handwriting, but bore a close relationship
to each other, and, says the fictitious Eremita in his fictitious
preface, arc now published as the two volumes of Either/Or.
T h e supposed writer of the first volume is apparently a
young man with an aesthetic philosophy of life. Like young
Sorcn Kierkegaard in 1835-1836, he has not found himself.
There is no seriousness in him; life to him is a dialogue in
which only the " p u n c h l i n e s " are important. He is inter-
ested in many things, but concerned for nothing. His only
problem is the boredom that results from his lack of serious-
ness about things thai oilier men take seriously.
T h e writer of the second volume of Either/Or is an older
man, though not an old man. His is an ethical philosophy
of life, imparted in a series of three letters addressed to the
younger man. T h e name of the first writer was not given
anywhere in cither of the two documents, says Victor Ere-
mita. T h e name of the second writer was given only as
William. Since the first is completely unidentified, and the
second only partially so, Eremita chooses to refer to his two
writers as " A " and " B . " " A . is unmarried and seems to
be a wealthy man about town without occupation. " B " is
married, has children, and is a magistrate judge.
" A " is more brilliant lhan " B " and a better thinker.
Truth to " A " is merely something to be known. T o " B "
truth is to be appropriated and lived. " B " therefore really
exists, while " A " merely thinks. " A " is the dilettante, the
intellectual, who plays with ideas and relationships. " B " is
quietly committed to truth and right, having a responsible
attitude toward all his concerns and relationships.
T h e title, Either/Or, reflects both Kierkegaard's purpose
 " E I T H E R /OR " 57

and his artistry. In the preface Victor Eremita suggests that

the two writers ( " A " and " B " ) may be considered as the
same man, one w h o had lived through, or thought about,
the aesthetic and ethical phases of life. T h e reader may for-
get this title while reading the book. Then at the end he may
ponder. H e will then realize that both characters in the hook
mirror his own character. Every man has this choice between
the aesthetic way of life, self-indulgent, uncommitted, de-
tached, irresponsible — a m i the ethical way, which is com-
mitted, self-disciplined, and responsible.
Nineteenth-century society in Western Europe was tre-
mendously impressed by its intellectual and scientific achieve-
ments. It had !>ecomc fashionable for men to believe that only
thinking that is detached and dispassionate is intellectually
respectable. Everything that is true must be thought out and
stated in general terms. This is the objective approach to
truth; and it has been very useful for the advancement of
science.
But, Kierkegaard believed, man can't live scientifically or
abstractly. Even the scientist doesn't live scientifically in his
personal relationships. He, like any other man, loves his
wife for purely personal reasons. H e is bound to her in love
and committed to her in faith. His attitude toward her is not
objective, but highly subjective, and quite rightly so.
This aspect of human life is its most important and mean-
ingful aspect. But it has been neglected by philosophy and
held in contempt by pseudo science. Kierkegaard, in all his
writings, was trying to make clear to his readers the im-
portance of this subjective life. It is inward; it is committed;
and it is passionately concerned. Either/Or was S. K.'s first
attempt to summon men to existential living.
Volume I presents a detached, uncommitted, nonexistcn-
58 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

tial view of life. T h e book begins with a collection of prose

poems, the " Diapsalmata."' This term, borrowed from a
liturgical version of The Psalms, may be taken to mean " in-
terlude." T h e " Diapsalmata " of Either/Or express many
moods, most of them ironical, or cynical, or melancholy. T h e
first " diapsalm " is a poetic introspection:

What is a poet? A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn

by secret suffering!, but whine l i p arc so strangely formed that
when the sighs and cries escape them, they sound like beautiful
music. His fate is like that of the unfortunate victims whom the
tyrant Phalaris imprisoned in a brazen hull, and slowly tortured
over a steady fire; their cries could not reach the tyrants ears so
as to strike terror into his heart; when ihcy reached his ears they
sounded like sweet music. And men crowd about the poet and
say lo him, " Sing for us soon again "; that is as much as to say,
" May new sufferings torment your soul, but may your lips be
formed as before; for the cries would only frighten us, but the
music is delicious." And the critics come, ion, and say, "Quite
correct, and so it ought to he. according to the rules of aesthetics."
Now it is understood that a critic resembles a poet to a hair; he
only lacks the suffering in his heart, and the music upon his lips.
Lo, therefore 1 would rather be a swineherd from Amagcr, and
be understood by the swine, than be a poet and be misunderstood
by men."

T h e writer understands what it is to be a poet, but has no

wish to be one. His attitude is one of detachment. It is all
very well to be a poet, but all one can expect is to be admired
and misunderstood.
Some of the " Diapsalmata " express a biting sarcasm:

1 prefer to talk with children, for it is still possible to hope that

they may become rational beings. But those who have already
become so — good Lord!
 " EITHER/OR" 59
How absurd men arel They never use die liberties they have,
they demand those they do not have. They have freedom of
thought, they demand freedom of speech.*

" A , " the young aesthete who is the supposed author of the
" Diapsalmata," is, as we have noted, bored with life, and
aptly describes his boredom:
I do not C3rc for anything. I do not care to ride, for the exercise
is too violent. I do not care to walk, walking is too strenuous. I
do not care to lie down, for 1 should cither have to remain lying,
and I do not care to do that, or I should have to get up again, and
I do not care to do that either. . . . I do not care at all.*

" A " is a contemplative character who is amused and be-

mused by the busyness of others. T h e activities and concerns
of other people seem to him futile and absurd:

Of all ridiculous ihings, it seems to me the most ridiculous is

to be a busy man of affairs, prompt to meals, and prompt lo work.
Hence when I sec a fly settle down in a crucial moment on the
nose of a businessman, or sec him bespattered by a carriage which
passes him by in even greater haste, or a drawbridge opens before
him. or a tile from ihc roof falls down and strikes him dead, then
I laugh heartily. And who could help laughing? What do they
accomplish, these bustlers? Are they not like the housewife, when
her house was on fire, who in her excitement saved the fire tongs?
What more do they save from the great fire of life? •

T o one who is merely interested in many things, but con-

cerned for nothing, life can be seen in only two possible per-
spectives. One can laugh; or one can blow one's brains out.
Since the former choice involves less courage and less effort,
and is, on the whole, more convenient, it is better to laugh.
This conclusion is deftly expressed in the last of the " Dia-
psalmata " :
60 T H E LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

Something wonderful has happened to me. 1 was carried up into

the seventh heaven. There all the gods sat assembled. By special
grace I was granted the favor of a wish." Will you," said Mercury,
" have youth, or beauty, or power, or a long life, or the most beau-
tiful maiden, or any of the other glories we have in the chest?
Choose, but only one thing." For a moment I was at a loss. Then
I addressed myself to the gods as follows: " Most honorable con-
temporaries, 1 choose this one thing, that I may always have the
laugh on my side." Not one of the gods said a word; on the con-
trary, they all began to laugh. Hence, I concluded that my request
was granted, and found that the gods knew how to express them-
selves with taste; for it would hardly have been suitable for them
to have answered gravely, " It is granted thee."1

These had been young Sorcn Kierkegaard's attitudes be-

fore 1838. Volume I of Either/Or contains much that is bril-
liant and much that is beautiful. In a succession of essays,
S. K. sets forth the aesthetic way of looking at life. T h e first
essay after the " Diapsalmata " is on the immediate (or musi-
cal) erotic. It describes three stages of sensuality. All arc
illustrated from Mozart's operas.
T h e first stage is exemplified by the page, Cherubino, in
Mozart's Marriage of Figaro. Sensuality here is erotic dream-
ing, a mere adolescent longing which contemplates no overt
action, and is embarrassed in the presence of any person of
the opposite sex.
T h e second stage is represented by Papagcno in Mozart's
The Magic Flute. Here the erotic or sensuous is expressed in
seekjng that which it may desire.
T h e third stage is found in Mozart's Don Juan {Don Gio-
vanni). Here the erotic comes to full expression in desire.
Don Juan's whole being is diffused and permeated by de-
sire. Life for him is a succession of amorous conquests. So,
 " EITHER/OR " 61

as Lcpotcllo points out to Donna Elvira in the opera, she

should not feel so singularly bereft — Don Juan has already
seduced 1,003 women in Spain alone!
Mozart's characters arc idealized in " A ' s " interpretation,
i.c., they arc fitted to the patterns of " A's " own thinking.
There is no moral appraisal; " A " is enthusiastic about Mo-
zart's artistry. He finds the situation, characters, and musical
expression " interesting."
In subsequent essays of Vol. I, Kierkegaard demonstrates
many facets of the aesthetic outlook on life. Here we find the
tragedy of the fate that visits the sins of the father, even un-
witting sins, upon the child; psychological analyses of three
fictional victims of faithless lovers (Goethe's Marie Bcau-
marchais, Mozart's Donna Elvira, and Goethe's Marguerite);
and essays on " T h e Unhappicst Man," and " T h e First
Love." Though he had a wider public in mind, S. K. was, in
a special sense, writing for Regina. Many would read, un-
derstand, enjoy, and discuss Either/Or; but, for Rcgina, each
essay would have special meanings which only she would be
aware of and appreciate.
In the next to the last essay of Vol. I, on " T h e Rotation
Method," the theory is presented that " Boredom is the root
o f all evil."" This is why children misbehave — they arc
bored. Sin came into human experience when Adam and
Eve got bored with each other. Men en masse were bored by
human limitations, and so tried to make themselves gods by
building the Tower of Babel. T h e Roman populace de-
manded bread and circuses; and the decline and fall of
Rome were due, not to the failure of the bread supply, but
to the deplorable fact that the circuses got more and more
boring.
"A" suggests that the social unrest of his own time is also
62 T H E LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

due to boredom. People are demanding democracy and have

various other fantastic ideas. T h e answer for Denmark is not
to hold a constituent assembly and establish constitutional
government, but to borrow fifteen million dollars and dis-
tribute it for people to spend. There is much more of this
drollery: Never enjoy anything so much that you remember
it. Make no close friends; never marry; never go into busi-
ness; in short, take nothing seriously. Make all your choices
and preferences whimsical and arbitrary, like the poet Bag-
gesen, whose only objection to a certain famous man was
that his name didn't rhyme with anything.
Either/Or created a literary sensation in Copenhagen, and
was widely read and discussed. T h e essay that really sold
the book was the last in Vol. I, entitled " T h e Diary of the
Seducer." Here, Kierkegaard had wished to go farther in de-
picting demonic sensuality than his fictitious young aesthete
( " A " ) could go and still remain in character. So he has
" A " disclaim authorship, and attribute the diary to another
man, of whose work " A " is merely the editor. This, as S. K.
has Victor Eremita point out in the preface, makes the situa-
tion quite complicated, for each author is enclosed in another
" like the parts of a Chinese puzzle box." Victor Eremita
doubts • A's " sincerity, and suspects that he is really the Se-
ducer, not merely an editor.
This is, of course, a pscudo problem. It conveys to us, as
S. K. intended, the basic dishonesty of the aesthetic view of
life with its refusal to become committed to, or accept re-
sponsibility for, anything.
" T h e Diary of a Seducer " makes interesting reading. T h e
Seducer is a reflective man. His goal is not the same as Don
Juan's, to seduce as many women as possible. Rather, the Se-
ducer is interested in how he seduces. He is proud of his re-
 • EITHER /OR "

fined techniques, which will infallibly seduce the purest and

most virtuous young woman, and keep her quite happy and
even proud of herself while he is doing it. Seduction has be-
come with him not so much a passion as an art.
Don Juan desires women as women. T h e Seducer ponders
the amazing variety of feminine form and feature, and sa-
vors each attractive woman for herself:
My eyes can never weary of surveying . . . these scattered
emanations of feminine beauty. . . . Every woman has her share:
the merry smile; the roguish glance; the yearning look; the droop-
ing head; the exuberant spirits; the calm sadness; the deep fore-
boding; the melancholy; the earthly homesickness; the un-
hallowed movements; the beckoning brows; the questioning lips;
the mysterious forehead; the ensnaring curls; the heavenly pride;
the earthly modesty; the angelic purity; the secret hlush; the light
step; the graceful airiness; the languishing posture; the dreamy
yearning; the inexplicable sighs; the willowy form; the soft out-
lines; the luxuriant bosom; the swelling hips; the tiny foot; the
dainty hand. Each woman has her own, and the one does not
merely repeat the other.*

T h e Seducer is a connoisseur; and this is an artistic cata-

logue of feminine charms. His attitude and enthusiasms arc
demonic; but they arc expressed in perfect good taste. When
he derides the bourgeois institutions of engagement and mar-
riage, he does so with a delicacy which docs not offend. Even
when he has seduced his Cordelia, and comments on the end
of the affair, it is with philosophic detachment:
Why cannot such a night be longer? . . . Still it ii over
and I hope never to see her again. When a girl has given away
everything, ihen she is weak, then she has lost everything; for a
man guilt it a negative moment, for a woman it is the value of
her being. Now all resistance is impossible, and only at long as
64 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

that it present is il beautiful to love. . . . I will have no farewell

v.uli her; nothing is more disgusting to me than a woman's
tears. . . . I have loved her. but . . . she can no longer engross
my soul.
It was wonh-while to show . . . that one can make her so
proud that she would imagine that it was she who tired of the
relationship."

All of this gives us a fair picture of young Sdren Kierke-

gaard before June, 1836. He was not himself a seducer, except
in imagination; but he enjoyed the erotic-intellectual satis-
faction of planning how a woman could be seduced without
involving a man in any permanent or responsible relation-
ship to her. He believed he could even avoid the unpleasant-
ness of her tears, pleadings, and recriminations by clever and
subtle psychology.
T h e aesthetic view of life, which S. K. had chosen for his
own during the summer vacation at Gillclcic in the summer
of 1835, involved no obligations or commitments. Its only
purpose was enjoyment, and this seemed irresponsible, per-
haps, but harmless. T h e exploration of its possibilities in
Vol. I of Either/Or reveals that it ends in frustration and
l>orcdom for the aesthete, and that it involves the possibility
of great harm for others who arc exploited by the aesthete
for his own pleasure. Its beginning may seem harmless; but
its end is demonic.
Either/Or. Vol. II, reveals the ethical side of the dialectic
that went on in the soul of Sorcn Kierkegaard in the two
years of struggle to reform his life between Mollcr's" mighty
trumpet" in 1836 and S. K.\ reconciliation with his father
(and with G o d ) in 1838. In this volume," B , " or fudge Wil-
liam, speaks for S. K.'s better and more mature self.
So Judge William writes to his younger f r i e n d , " A , " in an
 " EITHER / O R " 65

effort to persuade him to adopt those attitudes toward life

which arc necessary for mature and responsible living. " A "
has consistently ridiculed marriage as a relationship so pro-
saic and boresomc that it almost infallibly destroys romantic
love. In his first letter, therefore. Judge William defends
" the aesthetic validity of marriage." H e observes that popu-
lar novelists have produced one volume after another on the
joys and anxieties of romantic love, and readers have vicari-
ously enjoyed all these experiences, secure in the assurance
that the lovers would get married in the last chapter and live
happily ever after. T h e assumption of novelists, playwrights,
and public has been that marriage is a happy state.
But, says the judge, these works really do nothing to make
clear the validity of married happiness. They end where they
ought to begin. T h e lovers sink into each other's arms, the
book ends (or the curtain falls), and the reader is no wiser.
N o r has the cynicism about love and marriage characteristic
of the romantic period helped any. Here a group of gifted
writers, Byron among them, declare, in effect, that " love is
heaven, marriage is hell.**"
Yet, the judge points out, the institution of marriage goes
on, even though many have ceased to believe in it as the cul-
mination of romantic love. It is true that, in some marriages,
love dies and marriage becomes an empty shell, a hollow
mockery. Such a marriage is both tragic and comic, " tragic
because it is perishing, comic because it goes on." 1 1
Many
husbands feel this. They arc prisoners who " sit like mad-
men, each one in his matrimonial partition, and shake the
iron bars and rave about the sweetness of engagement and
about the bitterness of marriage." " They congratulate every
young man who becomes engaged with a certain malicious
and sadistic joy.
66 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

In an engagement, they say, love is voluntary; but the le-

gal bonds of marriage make love difficult and eventually im-
possible. A man's fiancee is his heart's desire, but the same
lovely girl as his wife becomes his ball and chain. Rut, says
Judge William, an engagement has no meaning except as a
preliminary to love's complete fulfillment in marriage.
There are some engaged men who seek to prolong the en-
gagement and |>ostponc marriage. They are like bathers who
spend much lime walking up and down on the float instead
of jumping in. They stick a foot or hand in the water to test
its temperature, and put off plunging in as long as possible.
Love must make the plunge. Its full joy can never be known
except in complete and unreserved commitment. Love re-
quires marriage for its fulfillment.
Love is erotic, but if it is genuine love, it has also a spiritual
quality by which lovers see in each other what others cannot
see. Love is both finite and infinite. It is immediate; it lives
in each moment, and so is temporal. But lovers feel that ihcy
were meant for each other, and that their love has always
been; they have only just now discovered it in discovering
each other. They are convinced too that their love will always
be; so the poets are right in saying that love is eternal.

Marriage may be " arranged," but love never is. Isaac, who
humbly and trustfully referred his choice of a wife to God,
and then sent his servant to look for the girl God had chosen,
missed both the freedom and the joyously erotic experience
of first love. Christianity accepts the erotic as a meaningful
and beautiful aspect of human love. T h e judge's illustration
is an intriguing one:

Imagine a little peasant girl, hiding behind her lashes a pair

of eyes which are audacious and yet humble, a girl healthy and
blooming, with something in her complexion which is not the
 " EJTHWO* " 67

flush of sickness but the sign of a superior health; imagine her on

a Christmas Eve; she ii alone in her room, midnight is already
passed, and yet sleep which usually visits her so faithfully now
evades her; she is sensible of an agreeable, sweet disquietude; she
throws the window ajar, she looks out into the infinite space,
alone with the silent nan; a little sigh makes her feet so light;
she shuts the window, and with a seriousness which yet has con-
stantly the possibility of lapsing into roguishness she prays:

Ye Three Kings of Orient wise,

Disclose a vision to my eyes.
Who is the man whose board I'll spread,
Him for whom I shall make my bed?
What his name is, be it said.
Show me the man whom I shall wed.

With that she springs joyfully into bed. Honestly, the Three
Kings ought to be ashamed of themselves if they did not look out
for her; and it's no use saying one doesn't know what man she
wishes: one knows that very well, at least if all the signs of Yule-
tide do not fail, she knows it ptetty neady.'*

In Christian marriage a man and a woman bring their

love before the altar of God. This does not destroy their free-
dom. It frees them from hesitancy and irresolution so that
each may give himself to the other with an abandonment of
self-love and a wholeness of mutual devotion. Love is aes-
thetic in that it is both sensuous and spiritual, freedom and
necessity, temporal ami eternal. In marriage these contradic-
tions are not lost or destroyed, but resolved and fulfilled.
So love is not lost in marriage. Marriage sustains and en-
hances the sensuous relationships of love. It is true that mar-
riage can be defended and extolled for other reasons. It is a
school for character; it is the basic institution of society for
the begetting and rearing of children; and it provides lonely
68 T H E L I F E AND THOUGHT OF KIERKtXIAARD FOR EVERYMAN

people with the comforts of a home. While it may even be

true that some people marry for such reasons, this does not
prove that all marriages, or even most marriages, arc loveless
and dull.
In the end the genuineness, depth, and meaning of mar-
ried love arc to be validated by every man in his own experi-
ence. Judge William urges his young friend to abandon his
detachment and skepticism so thai he may learn to love
wholeheartcdly — and learn to live. A rich versatility of gifts
may enable a man to mean all things to all men, but such a
one has missed the most rewarding of all human relation-
ships unless he also comes to mean everything to someone.
In his second long " letter " in Either/Or, Judge William
points out that this phrase (cither/or) is often on the lips of
his young friend. B u : " A " does not use it to designate a real
choice. He shrugs off the whole problem of choice. Here wc
may turn back to one of the " Diapsalmata " for an illustra-
tion of what the judge means:

If you marry, you will regret it; if you do not marry, you will
regret it; if you marry, or do not marry, you will regret both.
Laugh at the world's follies, you will regret it; weep over them,
you will regret that; laugh at the world's follies or weep over
them, you will regret both. . . . Hang yourself, you will regret
it; do not hang yourself, and you will also regret that; hang your-
self or do not hang yourself, you will regret both."

" A ' s " attitude is that it is futile to make decisions, espe-

cially important decisions. N o matter what you decide, you'll
be sorry! So he makes no decision he can avoid; he chooses
nothing except on a flip-of-the-coin basis. His only goal is
enjoyment; and no relationship or activity can be depended
on to be permanently enjoyable. Occasionally a friend comes
 ** EITHER/OR " 69

to him with a problem requiring a decision. " A " always

treats the matter with characteristic flippancy. Says Judge
William:

You listen to their exposition of the case, and then you say:
" Yes, 1 perceive perfectly that there arc two possibilities, one can
do cither this or that. My sincere opinion and my friendly counsel
is as follows: Do it/or don't do it — you will regret both." Hut
he who mocks others mocks himself, and your rejoinder is not a
mere nothing hut a profound mockery of yourself, a sorry proof
of how limp your soul is, that your whole philosophy of life is
concentrated in one single proposition," I say merely either/or." "

T h e judge implores his friend to " stop this wild flight,

this passion of annihilation which rages in you; for this is
what you desire, you would annihilate everything, you would
satiate the hunger of doubt at the expense of existence. . . .
T h e only thing that gives you pleasure is to march seven
times around existence and blow the trumpet and thereupon
let ihc whole thing collapse." How then does one become
something?
A man's first choice, says Judge William, is to choose to
recognize that there is a difference between good and evil and
that he must be on one side or the other. T h e aesthetic view
makes no such distinction, and so gives one no selfhood and
no ground for ethical choice. Only when a man wills the
good and, in doing this, recognizes the difference between
good and evil, does he really begin to be someone. Then and
so he becomes a man, a human being, having a commitment
and a purpose. A man without this basic purpose is really
nothing. He is not a man. Existentially speaking, he does not
exist 1
Manhood is freedom of choice, to choose one's self respon-
70 T H E LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

sibly is to be human, and to be human is to possess this free-

dom to choose, and to exercise it. Every man must first
choose to be who he is, then decide to be what he is, and
then he will do in order to reveal and express the self he has
become by his own choice. One meets everywhere, says the
good judge, people who have omitted the first choice (to be
themselves) and arc trying to be normal people by ludicrous
attempts at self-expression, when there is really no self to ex-
press. They arc comparable to that sect of Hussites " who
thought that the most obvious way to become the normal
man was to go naked like Adam and Eve in Paradise."
Neither nakedness nor any other device men adopt — busy-
ness, talkativeness, cynicism—can conceal the real truth
about the man who is nothing.
One who persists at the aesthetic level, and refuses to be-
come himself at the ethical level, has made a choice, but it is
a stupid one. Even if acceptance of the ethical were to mean
the end of all aesthetic values, it would still be the Ixtter
choice, says Judge William. But the aesthetic is not lost, it is
taken up into the ethical. Aesthetic values arc transfigured
and made more meaningful, more constant, and more dura-
ble. Indeed, says the judge, • only when one regards life ethi-
cally does it acquire beauty, truth, significance, firm consist-
ence." "
Either/Or concludes with a brief letter with which Judge
William sends " A " a sermon by a country pastor. This last
essay suggests by indirection that the ethical is not the final
word in an existential view of life. This is a precaution
against misunderstanding and a precursor of a level of liv-
ing which transcends the ethical.
Published in February, 1843, Either/Or created a literary
sensation in Copenhagen. Its unknown author was immcdi-
 " fmiu/o 71

ately recognized as a literary genius. It was " much read and

more talked about," but no one really understood it. Rcgina
Olscn recognized that it was written for her, and learned
much from it, but even she did not grasp its philosophy.
Kierkegaard's motives in writing Either/Or were complex:
It was written for Regina; it was written to make dear to his
readers the futility of aesthetic and the importance of ethical
living; and it was written to get the acsdietic " out of his sys-
tem." It was, as he later describes it, an "expectoration," a
necessary evacuation. In Either/Or and the other aesthetic
writings (Repetition, Fear and Trembling, Stages on Life's
Way) he accomplishes this.
S. K. was not seeking popularity, and the popularity of
" The Diary of a Seducer " was disconcerting. It was written
to repel Rcgina. He believed the public would also find it
repulsive. When they admired and praised it, he was con-
firmed in his low opinion of the public. He scorned the de-
ceptive devices used by some authors for the sake of popular-
ity. In the Journals he exclaims, ** I won't do that; I won't,
I won't, I won't, to hell with the whole thing." " He wrote,
not to please the public, but because he must write.
On Easter Day, a few weeks after the publication of
Either/Or, Rcgina nodded to him in church. As he look his
walks, lie was continually meeting her on the streets. He still
loved her deeply, and he suspected that these were not chance
encounters, but that she contrived to be where she thought
he would be. H e was tortured by these encounters, and he
felt they kepi a false hope alive in her heart.
This and ihe need to find undisturbed time for his writing
probably motivated his second journey to Berlin. He sailed
on May 8, 1843. He had apparently considered making a
more extensive journey, but from Berlin he wrote Emil Boe-
72 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERY MAN

sen that he was not physically well and had decided nut to
travel farther. He had been working on the materials of the
book that would appear two years later as Stages on Life's
Way. H e tells Boesen that in spite of physical weakness his
mental " machinery is working at full speed," and his spirits
are healthy.
Despite this assurance to Boesen, S. K. seems to have been
upset by the evidence of Regina's continuing love ami loy-
alty. " Had I had faith," he writes in the Journals." I should
have remained with Regina." He had been working on a
story, later to appear in the Stages, entitled " Guilty/Not
Guilty." It was a complete, thinly fictionalized account of
his love affair. He found that he could not complete it. T h e
possibility of a resumption of his relationship with Regina
was preying on his mind. So he turned to the writing of two
books for her.
T h e first of these, the first draft of which seems to have
been begun and completed in Berlin, was Repetition. On
May 25, he wrote Boesen that it was completed, and that he
would soon be back in Copenhagen because he needed to be
near his library and the printing presses. In Repetition (by
" Constantinc Constantius"), S. K. writes poetically of a
young man's desire to repeat his most cherished aesthetic ex-
pericnecs and of the impossibility of doing so because the
aesthetic mood requires change and not repetition. It would
be absurd, we may therefore conclude, for S. K. to resume his
engagement to Regina. But the absurd is possible I
It may have been with this hope in his heart that he re-
turned to Copenhagen in June, only to encounter the an-
nouncement of Regina's engagement to Fritz Schlegel. This
was a jarring experience, but only obscure references to it
are found in the Journals. One is this: " T h e most terrible
 " EITHER / OR " 73

thing that can happen to a man is that he should become

comic to himself in essentials, that he should discover that
the content of his feelings is twaddle.""
Ten pages or more were torn from the original manuscript
of Repetition. Its original ending, by which he may, perhaps,
have intended to say to Regina that all might be as before
between them, was now quite foolish and irrelevant. S. K.
wrote a new conclusion in which Constantinc Constantius
finds repetition, not at an aesthetic, but at a religious level:
" She is married, . . . I am again myself, . . . I have the
repetition."" Like |ob of old, Constantinc has again every-
thing double, but in Constantinc's case the repetition is of
blessings that (God knows) are good for him, rather than of
the blessings that he desired.
Fear and Trembling apparently was written for the most
part after the announcement of the engagement. Here, in
obedience to God's will, Abraham in spirit gives up Isaac.
So, in spirit, Sorcn Kierkegaard surrenders his beloved Re-
gina — in response to what is now, clearly, God's command.
CHAPTER 6

"Stages on Life's Way"

•" ire FOR SORES KIERKEGAARD was a scries of shock

I A treatments. A patient recovers from the shock,
but not from the treatment. S o it was with Kierkegaard;
God had again taken a decisive hand in his life. T h e an-
nouncement of Rcgina's engagement to Schlegel was, as he
says, not merely an event; it was a fact. An event passes; a
fact remains and must be lived with. Up to this time the
poet within him had clung to the possibility that he might
yet marry Rcgina. Now that it was no longer a possibility, he
did not immediately cease to be a poet, but he found that
being a poet was irrelevant.

H e had already in part become, and was increasingly be-

coming, a religious personality. In many men poetry and re-
ligion would not be incompatible. In him they were. Again
he must make a choice. H e recognized the religious man as
being himself, and so chose himself.
T h e poet did not completely disappear, but he was no
longer at the controls. Indeed, the poet still wrote for publi-
cation, but he no longer directed editorial policy. Kierke-
gaard's movement away from the aesthetic in his writings is
clear from this point on. Three aesthetic works already in
preparation were to appear in print during the next two
14
 " STAGES ON L I F E S W A Y 75
years. Repetition and Fear and Trembling were published
simultaneously on October 16, 1843. Stages on Life's Way
was not published till April 30,1845.
In these works Kierkegaard gets the aesthetic completely
out of his system and makes a subtle transition from the
aesthetic life, through the ethical, to the religious. In Repe-
tition, the pseudonymous author, Constantinc Constantius,
makes an attempt to repeat enjoyments previously experi-
enced. But Constantinc's second visit to Berlin, for instance,
docs not bring the same pleasure as he had on the first visit.
After various experiments, he concludes that while repeti-
tion of aesthetic pleasures is possible, it is impossible to make
sure of this. There is no method of control by which the aes-
thete can guarantee that pleasures will be repeated.
T h e ethical sphere, on the other hand, is constituted by rc-
pcatablc experiences. It is a daily renewal of the same com-
mitments, loyalties, relationships, activities, and satisfactions.
Its joys arc durable because its attitudes arc constant.
Constantinc encounters a very interesting case of a young
man who falls in love and becomes engaged. His love in-
spires this young man to poetry, but does not make him
happy. H e discovers a melancholy in himself, which he be-
lieves unfits him for marriage. Marriage would only bring
unhappincss to the young woman he loves. So the young
man is in despair. Though he is guilty of no wrong intent,
life has forced on him a situation in which there is no ethical
way out. If he marries the young woman, he will be guilty
of a great wrong; if he does not marry her, he will also be
guilty of a great wrong. Either choice will bring undeserved
suffering to the woman he loves.
In this state of mind the young man reads T h e Book of
Job. He admires Job's courage in protesting before God the
76 T H E LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKECAARD FOR EVERYMAN

injustice of life. Reading on, the young man finds that in the
end God answers Job, and restores to him double for all he
has lost. But when the thing a man has lost is his sense of
moral integrity, can this ever be restored?
As wc have seen, Kierkegaard destroyed the original end-
ing of Repetition? As the book now stands, the central ques-
tion really remains unanswered. Is there any escape from
guilt? Is there any way in which a man can leave the old,
guilty self behind him and be born again ?
In Fear and Trembling, the pseudonymous author, Johan-
nes de Sllcntio, gives four |>ossiblc interpretations of the story
of Abraham's journey to Mount Moriah to sacrifice Isaac at
God's command. In all four versions the command of God
is clear, and Abraham's response does not vary. God, who
has given him Isaac whom he loves better than life itself,
now requires that he give thus son back in a human sacri-
fice. So Abraham proceeds with Isaac to Mount Moriah,
fully resigned to obeying God's will, yet in the faith that this
sacrifice will not be required of him.
Faith, Johannes points out, begins with infinite resigna-
tion, but goes beyond it to believe and trust God to the point
of absurdity. T h e man of faith is not only willing to accept
at God's hand whatever God wills, he is also willing to be-
lieve in the possibility of the impossible. H e knows the pain
of giving up everything; yet he also grasps by faith all his
dearest hopes and plans for the finite future. Johannes ad-
mits that, while he can describe the movements of faith, he
cannot make these movements. H e is like one who has stud-
ied the motions of swimming and can describe them accu-
rately, but cannot swim. If a man has faith, he will never be
plunged into despair, he can "swim" no matter how deep
the water.
 " STAGES ON L I F E S WAY " 77

While Kierkegaard declared thai nothing he wrote under

a pseudonym should be regarded as expressing his own ideas,
it seems inconceivable that he is not describing his own ex-
perience at this point. He thought he was resigned to giving
Regina up. But the announcement of her engagement to
Fritz Schlcgel revealed to him that he had not given her up.
He was still unable to make the infinite double movement
of faith, i.c., to achieve complete inner resignation to God's
will, and to believe that God would restore to him, perhaps
double, all he had lost. He writes:

There was one who . . . believed thai he had made ihc move-
ment; but. lo, time passed, the princess did something else, she
married . . . then his soul lost the elasticity of resignation.
Thereby he knew that he had noi made the movement rightly;
for he who has made the act of resignation infinitely is sufficient
unio himself. . . . What the princess does cannot disturb
him. . . . If the princess is like-minded, . . . she will introduce
herself into that order of knighthood into which one is not re-
ceived hy balloting, but of which everyone is a member who has
courage to introduce himself, that order of knighthood which
proves its immortality hy the fact thai it makes no distinction be-
tween man and woman. The two will preserve their love young
and sound, she will also have triumphed over her pains, even
though she docs not. as is said in the ballad, " lie every night be-
side her lord." These two will remain in agreement to all eter-
nity. . . . If ever the moment were to come which offered to give
love its expression in time, then they will be capable of begin-
ning precisely at the point where they would have begun if
originally they had been united. 3

Regina and Fritz Schlcgel read and discussed Kierke-

gaard's books together. They must have found this an in-
teresting passage. Doubtless Regina would have had some
78 THE L I F E AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

difficulty in recognizing herself as Isaac, but as a princess the

reference to her relation to S. K. would have been inescapa-
bly clear.
Kierkegaard's thought (in Fear and Trembling) moves
on to express the broader interests of Johannes de Silentio.
Even if a man is unable to attain to faith, he can make the
preliminary movement of infinite resignation. This is pos-
sible to every man who has courage. But faith is harder. No
one has a right to represent faith as being easy; it involves
serious problems. One of these is what Johannes calls " the
ideological suspension of the ethical."
T h e ethical is universal, its principles arc binding upon ev-
eryone at all times. If the ethical is universally applicable,
Abraham should not be praised as " the father of faith," he
should be prosecuted for murder. It is a paradox of faith that
the individual is above the universal. Here the individual
man is obedient to God in a personal relationship. He is not
bound by universal laws, and the olicdicncc of faith may in-
volve him in an exception to the ethical.
Johannes cites as an example the Virgin Mary, who was
willing to be the handmaid of the Lord, even though she suf-
fered the scandal, in the eyes of the world, of being an unwed
mother. Though Kierkegaard docs not do so, he might with
equal appropriateness have conjectured that Judas was not
really a betrayer, but a man of faith who was willing to be
used for ihc accomplishment of God's plan of redemption.
T h e deceitful activities of a spy, serving a just cause, would
also be an example.
What Kierkegaard (through Johannes dc Silentio) is say-
ing is this: W e cannot be men of faith without previously
and fully accepting God's will. This resignation to God's
will is not infinite so long as we set any emotional limits to
 " STAGES ON LIFE'S WAY " 79

it whatsoever. Many men arc not even willing with Saint

Francis to be God's fools, to believe the absurd. They set hu-
man understanding (their own understanding) above God's
truth. We need to go a big step farther in infinite resigna-
tion: to be willing to be God's sinners, ever, perhaps, God's
criminals, if by our doing this God can accomplish his pur-
pose through us. It is a hard thought, not so much because it
is hard to understand, but because it is very very hard to
accept.
We must recognize that such an event or situation is an
exception. Abraham and the Virgin Mary arc " elect figures,"
and none of us may in Christian humility rate himself as
so important in the plan of God. Men sometimes do this, and
the resulting mental condition is called a " Messiah com-
plex." But every person who possesses the infinite resigna-
tion will be wrong for God if God requires this of him. He
may proceed as Abraham did with the earnest and desper-
ate faith that God will not require this thing of him, that he
is merely being tested. We must remember also that the eth-
ical is not ever abolished or abrogated; in even the most ex-
ceptional cases it would be, as Johannes says, merely sus-
pended. To accept the possibility of such a suspension is one
of the requirements of infinite resignation, and therefore a
requirement of faith.
The man who would attain to faith has other problems.
Does he have an absolute duty toward God which takes
precedence over any duty he may have toward men? Jo-
hannes quotes Luke 14:26: " If any one comes to me and
docs not hate his own father and mother and wife and chil-
dren and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he
cannot be my disciple."
" This is a hard saying," Johannes remarks; " who is able
80 T H E LIFE AND THOUGHT OP KDZRKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

to hear it ? For this reason it is heard very seldom." Preach-

1

ers don't preach on it. Commentaries, forced to say some-

thing about it, tastefully explain it away. But the ensuing
verses in Luke make clear that this is the cost of discipleship.
A man's duty to God is absolute, and contravenes his duly to
wife and children, or parents, or any other member of his
family.
Here we encounter again the paradox of faith: the indi-
vidual is higher than the universal. " Honor thy father and
thy mother " is a universal commandment, but the individ-
ual's duty to honor God takes precedence over every human
relationship. Love for one's neighbor is the second part of the
great commandment and is a universal duty, but love for
God comes first. Love for God and love for men are to be
clearly distinguished from each other. Love for men is a
corollary that follows from love for God. Indeed, many make
the mislake of regarding love for men as a definition of love
for God. Love for God is an absolute duty, and is so stated in
the first half of the great commandment: " Thou shall love
the Lord thy God " (Mark 12:30).
It is a father's duty to love his children; this is universal.
It was Abraham's duty to love Isaac, but Abraham's duty to
love God was an absolute duty to which his duty to love his
son was relative and subordinate. This paradox can be lived
by Abraham, or by any man of faith, only by a willingness
to sacrifice, not only one's own life, but also what one loves
more than he loves his own life.
Johannes points out that very, very few have the courage
to live this way. We should still have the honesty to admit
that it is the teaching of Scripture — and the nature of faith
— that a man must accept his duty to God as an absolute
duty.
 " STAGES ON LIFE'S WAV " 81

Another problem of faith is that an ultimate act of faith is

always misunderstood. T h e man of faith not only suffers, he
must suffer in silence because he cannot explain himself. So
Abraham docs not reveal himself to Sarah, or to Eliczcr (his
servant), or to Isaac, because he cannot. A man may talk
uninterruptedly day and night, but unless he makes himself
intelligible to others he docs not communicate. H e may utter
everything, and say nothing. T h i s adds to the anguish of
faith, that in such an exceptional case as the ideological sus-
pension of the ethical or the unswerving performance of
one's duty to God, the individual must stand alone, deprived
of all human companionship and support. Yet only so can
he truly be himself, and come into a relationship of faith to-
ward God.
Every person, indeed, has an inner life which only he him-
self knows. At the aesthetic level the individual cannot re-
veal his inner life, i.e., reveal himself, because he does not
really W 3 n t to. T h e ethical, however, demands self-revela-
tion, and at this sphere of existence we can and do under-
stand each other. In the sphere of the religions, and at the
level of faith, the individual in finding complete understand-
ing before God must be willing to give up the satisfaction of
being understood by men.
Faith must therefore, Johannes concludes, be a passion of
devotion. It is man's greatest passion. In its simplicity faith
may be described as childlike. Rut far from being an ailment
of childhood which one must wish to get over as soon as pos-
sible, faith is the passion of man's ultimate maturity.
Kierkegaard's literary production in these years was amaz-
ing. While he was writing seven pseudonymous works for
publication between 1843 and 1845, he was also writing seven
collections of what he called " edifying discourses," which
82 T H E LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

were published under his own name. These were authentic

expressions of his own thinking at the time, while the pseu-
donymous writings represented points of view which he had
outgrown, or which he had thought about but never shared.
His mind was full of creative ideas which were crowding
for expression; and he had an urgent purpose to reach the
point in his literary career at which he could abandon pseu-
donyms because his authorship would then represent the
sphere of existence to which he had attained.
This does not justify the conclusion that S. K. meant noth-
ing that he wrote under a pseudonym. He always was to re-
gard the choice between responsibility and irresponsibility,
between the aesthetic life of pleasure and the ethical life of
commitment, as the basic choice that every man must make.
It is the true " either/or." And in the sermon by the country
pastor at the end of Either/Or, S. K. began the movement to-
ward the religious sphere which was to gain momentum in
subsequent "aesthetic works." T h e theme of the sermon,
" As against God you are always in the wrong," suggests
that no man ever really succeeds in his effort to l>c ethical.
W e have seen that the other two pseudonymous publica-
tions of the year 1843, Repetition and Fear and Trembling,
represent a continuing movement toward the religious. If
we may summarize them, in Repetition, Constantinc Con-
stantius seeks to repeat pleasurable experiences, and finds
that repetition is unpredictable for aesthetic experience.
Truly satisfying repetition can be achieved, and docs come
quite surprisingly to the young man at the religious level.
This repetition is a new birth, a beginning again, which is
made possible, according to Johannes de Silentio in Fear and
Trembling, by the negative movement of infinite resignation
and the positive movement of a faith that grasps that which
 " STACKS. ON LIFE'S WAY "

is not present. Infinite resignation is a human movement ami

a necessary preliminary to faith. Faith is a transcendent
movement, made possible only as God invades the human
spirit and enables a man to transcend the limitations of the
human by divine power. This is an awesome experience, and
a man receives it always in fear and trembling.
T h e next of ihc pseudonymous works, Philosophical Frag-
ments, was published on July 13,1844. Here S. K. was com-
ing very close to the level of his own thinking at the time.
He Ijmbolisei this by the use of the pseudonym Johannes
Climacus, and the addition of his own name: " Responsible
for publication, S. Kierkegaard." Johannes Climacus was the
author of an ancient and obscure work entitled " T h e l a d -
der of Heaven." T h e adoption of this pseudonym by Kierke-
gaard apparently symbolized the direction in which he was
now moving.
Philosophical Fragments discusses, with what seems to us
a curious indirection, the twin questions: What is Christian-
ity? and. How does one become a Christian ? But the setting
of the book and its terminology arc Greek rather than Chris-
tian, and its prominent authority is Socrates. T h e name of
Christ does not appear, and Christianity is mentioned only
at the very end of the book. It can be understood only in the
light of its sequel, Concluding Unscientific Postscript to the
Philosophical Fragments, published in 1846.
Kierkegaard's versatility as an author enabled him to keep
several books in preparation continuously. Four days after
the publication of Philosophical Fragments, on June 17,
1844, his book The Concept of Dread was placed on sale. It
was a psychological study of original sin, and can also be
better understood, or at least more logically related to the
other books, by being discussed in connection with the Con-
84 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

eluding Unscientific Postscript.

In the meantime, Kierkegaard needed to clear his mind
of some erotic-acsthctic-cthical-psychological remainders.
These were only loosely related to each other, and his pseu-
donym Hilarius Bookbinder symbolizes this. T h e three
" pieces " included were not originally planned as one book.
T h e first two were intended for publication together in a
book to be entitled " Right Hand/Left H a n d . " T h e third
piece should have occupied the place taken by the sermon in
Eit/ier/Or, but it is so intimate a description of his relation-
ship to Regina that he could not bring himself to complete
o r publish it in 1843. As published on April 30, 1845, this is
one of his longest books, and its title is the only one that
would appropriately unite and describe the three parts:
Stages on IJfe's Way.
T h e manuscripts included in the book, Hilarius Book-
binder tells us, had been lying around his shop for some
time. They had been part of a larger group of manuscripts
left with him to be bound. By some inadvertence these three
had been missed, and were not bound with the others. T h e
" litcratus " who had left them to be bound died suddenly,
before the binding was done, and Hilarius delivered the
bound volumes and received payment through the probate
court. Some time later these three unbound manuscripts
were discovered, and it was recalled by Mrs. Hilarius that
they had belonged to the " literary gent."
It seemed too late to deliver them to anyone, so Hilarius
bound them together to preserve them. Since the handwrit-
ing was beautifully done, he used the bound volume as a
copybook pattern in the instruction of his son. Later, a theo-
logical student whom he employed to tutor the boy advised
Hilarius that these were works of great merit and should be
 " STAGES ON LIFE'S WAY "

puMifhci). So wiih a mock-sty becoming a bumble book-

liintlcr, and yet with a desire to benefit his fellow men, Hi-
larius bad them published.
T h e first piece in the Stages, " In Vino Veritas " (" In
Wine There Is Truth " ) , expresses the aesthetic stage. It de-
scribes a banquet at which the supposed author, William
A!rum, was a silent participant and observer. On the theory
of the adage that drunkards and little children tell the truth,
it is required that each speaker at the banquet achieve a gar-
rulous state of intoxication before he is permitted to speak.
T h e theme of each speaker is the same," W o m a n , " and the
speeches are interesting, if not edifying. They represent the
logical extremes of irresponsible aestheticism. Woman is a
puzzling enigma to the young man who speaks first. In the
speeches that follow she is described as a joke, a negative in-
fluence, and an alluring temptation.
T h e second piece of the Stages is entitled " Various Obser-
vations About Marriage by a Married Man." Here S. K.'s
fudge William sets forth the case for chastity, the satisfac-
tions of the monogamous marriage, and an appreciative re-
spect for woman as a person. It is evident that these two
sections, constituting about a third of the book, repeat with
greater vividness the message of Either/Or. Irresponsible
sensuality is the path of perdition; self-discipline and ac-
ceptance of responsibility may not lead directly to heaven,
but thry lead away from hell.
T h e third section, " Guilty/Not Guilty." by Frater Taci-
turnus, constitutes two thirds of the Stages. Frater Taciturnus
begins with a story of his visit to Soeborg I-ake with a natu-
ralist friend, who was collecting botanical specimens from
the bottom of the lake. Quite surprisingly, their dredging ap-
paratus brings up a rosewood box sealed in oilskins. T h e box
86 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOB EVERYMAN

contains a numl>cr of things, most of them of no great value.

T w o valuable pieces of jewelry (one an engagement ring)
will be returned to the owner, says Frater Taciturnus, if he
will apply to F . T . through Rcitzcl's bookstore.
As a psychologist, Frater Taciturnus is much interested in
a manuscript contained in the box, a young man's account
of his unhappy love affair. This unhappy love story, " Qui-
dam's Diary," has a curious pattern of double entries. In the
mornings the young man wrote his reminiscences of " to-
day a year ago." At midnight each night he wrote about the
day just ended. T h e diary describes two six-month periods,
and covers a year and a half of Quidam's love affair.
While it is a love story, its chief interest from the beginning
is ethical and ultimately religious. In the first entry, the
morning entry of January 3, Quidam raises the real ques-
tion: " O u g h t a soldier of the advanced guard to be mar-
ried? Dare a soldier on the frontier (spiritually understood)
take a w i f e ? " * Quidam's spiritual struggle is not against
" T u r k s and Scythians," the barbarians of this world, but
against demonic forces within himself," the robber bands of
an innate melancholy." Can a man so melancholy as he ho|>e
for happiness in marriage for himself and the girl he loves?
At limes he experiences the immediacy of first love, and
hopes that in marriage to the girl he loves so deeply he will
no longer be " an exception." " After all," he writes, " my
father was married, and he was the most melancholy man I
ever knew." * He therefore plans at first to conceal his mel-
ancholy and its causes. Being an expert at seeming cheerful
when he is not, he will marry the girl, but spare her from
ever knowing his inner suffering.
He will be like " Simon the Leper," who has discovered a
salve thai will conceal his leprosy and enable him to re-enter
 " VI At.1A ON LIFE'S W A Y " S7

society. But to do so would still expose others to the disease,

and Simon chooses instead to remain an outcast and bear his
fate. So Quidam decides that to conceal his melancholy in-
definitely would be impossible. It would still be there, and
would in the intimate relationships of marriage be infectious.
T o expose the one he loves to this infection without her
knowing would be unfair to her and unworthy of the mar-
riage relationship. Such a relation demands complete hon-
esty. " Lovers ought to have no differences between them." *
So Quidam resolves to reveal himself to his fiancee. But to
share and bear his melancholy with him she must be brought
to a religious level of thinking and feeling. His attempt to do
this fails. She is a child of sunshine, temperamentally inca-
pable of living at any other level than pure aesthetic imme-
diacy. She loves Quidam more than she loves God. Indeed
she does not, properly speaking, love God or Quidam so
much as she loves herself. Her love for him is passionately
possessive. When he attempts to leach her, she affectionately
appropriates the teacher, but not the teaching.
So Quidam. in despair, writes her a note in which he at-
tempts to break off the engagement. This does not work ei-
ther. She visits his room in his absence, and leaves a note in
which she says it will be her death if he leaves h e r . " She con-
jures m c for God's sake, and for the sake of my salvation."'
Though he loves her deeply, Quidam feels that it is quite un-
fair for her to use the name of God in this way. God is, for
her, obviously only a rich uncle.
Quidam's only recourse now is a battle to destroy her love
for him, and set her free. This he proceeds to do with a
breaking heart, but with cleverness and firmness. But he
finds that his own strength and courage arc unequal to the
task. Only God can give a man the faithfulness for so des-
88 T H E L I F E AND THOUGHT OF Kir.RKECAARD FOR EVERYMAN

pcrate a battle, not only with her, but with himself. T h e

need for strength from God, and gratitude to God for
strength given, bring to Quidam a new and deeper experi-
ence of religion. " G o d , " he writes, " is the only one who
docs not grow tired of listening to a m a n . " 1

Quidam admits that he had long cultivated an appearance

of being cold and heartless before men. In fact, he had taken
pride in his ability to do this. He was not really cold and
heartless. Now he is caught, not just in the appearance of
hcartlessness, but in the reality. H e writes:

I have been taken prisoner by the appearance I sought to con-

jure up. I have in fact treated a person shabbily. And although I
have a different understanding of it. . . . 1 cannot make any man
understand me.
Providence has taken me captive. The idea I cherished of my
existence was a proud one, now 1 am crushed. . . . I have lost the
real pith of my existence, die secure stronghold behind the deceit-
ful appearance. . . . Only religiously can 1 now understand my-
self before God
My idea was lo reconstruct my life ethically . . . and to con-
ceal this inwardness in the form of deceit. Now . . . my life is
constructed for me religiously. . . . My situation is as if God has
chosen me, not 1 God."

Quidam feels that he is helpless in God's hands, and,

though he is involved in a situation that is not of his own
choosing, he humbly acknowledges that he is guilty:
Am I guilty? Yes. How? By the fact that I began what I could
not carry to completion. How is it that thou dost understand it
now? I understand now why it was impossible for me. What then
is thy guilt? That I did not understand it earlier. What is thy
responsibility? Every possible consequence that may follow in
her life.-
 " STAGES ON U F E S W A Y " 89
After two months of struggle, Quidam convinces his fi-
ancee that she must give him up. " So it is over," he writes.
" If she chooses to cry, I choose the pain; and one grows
tired of crying aloud, perhaps she already is; for me ihc turn
of pain will come, and come again." " Every year on the
third of January, he begins to relive the six-months period in
which he accepted divine governance, gave up all hope of
happiness, and broke the heart of the girl he loved. So ends
the diary; and Quidam remarks bitterly," It deals with noth-

Frater Taciturnus ends his book (" Guilty/Not Guilty ")

with an " Epistle to the Reader." He makes an extensive psy-
chological analysis of Quidam's C 3 s e . The basic difficulty was
that Quidam and his fiancee lived in two different existence-
spheres. He writes:

There are ihrce existence-spheres: the aesthetic; the ethical; the

religious. . . . The ethical sphere is only a transitional sphere,
and hence its highest expression is repentance. . . . The aesthcuc
sphere is that of immediacy, the ethical is that of requirement
(and this requirement is so infinite that the individual always
goes bankrupt), the religious sphere is that of fulfillment."

Frater Taciturnus as a psychologist is merely a student of

all this. He deliberately chooses not to become a participant,
i.e., he is not a religious man, and he knows that he is not.
One who imagines himself to be a religious man when he
is not is a fool. One who sees what religion is without becom-
ing religious is a sophist, and Frater Taciturnus admits that
he is a sophist.
For Kierkegaard, the writing of the Stages was the last ex-
pression of a self that was present in him, but was not the
self he had chosen to be. He had many possibilities of self-
90 THE LIFE AND THOUCHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

hood. He was not so much a split personality as " a splintered

personality."" Several characters in the Stages represented
fractions of his personality. Rut he knew clearly in 1844 the
kind of man he was in part and aspired to be completely —
a religious man. He still had active aesthetic tastes and inter-
ests. He still felt himself to be " uncommonly erotic." This
" other man " within himself was given the last opportunity
for expression with the writing of " In Vino Veritas."
There was yet another man within him who aspired to
ethical self-sufficiency; he relied on himself, and did not need
God. This man expressed himself for the last time in " Ob-
servations About Marriage." It is " Judge William's " last
moralistic discourse.
In "Guilty/Not Guilty," S. K. eliminated the ethically
self-sufficient man by showing his impossibility in a crisis ex-
perience. T h e failure to find an ethical solution to his prob-
lem of guilt forced Quidam into a lonely understanding with
God. Here Kierkegaard, the author, "catches u p " with
Kierkegaard, the man, and from 1846 they struggle onward
together. Pseudonymity is no longer necessary.
CHAPTER 7

"Poor Individual, Existing Man"

0\ «N THE DAY BEFORE the publication of Stages on

'Life's Way, Kierkegaard had published a book
under his own name, entitled Three Occasional Discourses.
His prolific authorship in these years was due in part to the
tremendous urge of his creative genius, and in part to his se-
rious purpose to confront men with Christianity. Such pro-
ductivity represented a vast amount of sheer, grinding hard
work. He rose every morning, gave thanks to God, and then
to work, with time off only for meals and his midday walk.
Sometimes he interrupted work in the evening to appear at
the theater for about ten minutes in order to maintain the
fiction that he was a loafer. At a set time in the evening he
stopped his work, again gave thanks to God, and so to bed
and to sleep.
Writing had become his vocation, and he pursued it with
single-minded devotion. Between February 20, 1843, the date
of Hither/Or. and February 27, 1846, the date of the Post-
script, he published in allfifteenbooks. Except for Either/Or,
which was rewritten only once, all his publications were
composed in an original draft and rewritten twice. Even his
midday walks were periods of meditation in which he gained
perspective and new ideas for his writing.
9!
92 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

While he worked hard, he was not a recluse or an ascetic.

He particularly enjoyed meeting ordinary people, and on his
walks stopped often to chat with them. At the same time he
lived in style! He had inherited a substantial sum from his
father, and had also, with Peter Kierkegaard, inherited the
family home. On October 16, 1844, S. K. moved from his
rented apartment at 230 Norregade to the old home on the
Nytorv where he had grown up. Here he lived an outwardly
carefree bachelor existence, with no lack of anything he
might want for his comfort or convenience.
Israel Levin, who was for a time Kierkegaard's secretary,
tells us that S. K. tried constantly to project himself into vari-
ous ways of life and points of view. On one occasion, for in-
stance, he lived like a miser for a week, just to learn how it
feels to be a miser. He also admitted (to Levin) " that he had
a tremendous desire to commit a real theft, and so live with
a bad conscience in fear of discovery." Fortunately for his
1

reputation, then and now, he wisely kept this desire under

control. Doubtless, though it intrigued him, he could not fit
such an experiment into his highly ethical perspective of life.
In spite of the wide ranging of his imagination and all the
possibilities opening before a man of genius, he lived a nar-
rowly disciplined life. God had imposed on him a task which
must be pursued in wholehearted obedience. He believed
that, because of advancing ill-health, his life would be short
and his time limited. He therefore wrote, urgently and in-
cessantly, seeking to make clear to finite men the way to an
infinite happiness.
The climax of this period of prodigious effort has, appro-
priately, turned out to be his greatest work: Concluding Un-
scientific Postscript to the Philosophical Fragments. Though
he meant what he said in this book, and the principal reason
 " POOR INDIVIDUAL, EXISTING MAN " 93

for pscudonymity was past, he regarded the book as a sequel

to the Fragments, and used the same pseudonym, Johannes
CHmacus, with his own name as editor. As its title indicates,
he intended that this book would be his last. It would com-
plete his authorship. This done, he would seek an appoint-
ment in the Danish Lutheran Church, and spend the re-
maining years of his life as a country pastor. As we shall sec,
. governance " was to change this plan, but that is a later
development.
The nineteenth century was a century of optimism. Its ma-
jor philosophies and popular opinion combined to encourage
man's confidence in his ability, by his own wisdom and clev-
erness, to move toward a perfect society. Reason and knowl-
edge would vanquish ignorance, and all remaining problems
would I K solved cither by evolution or revolution. Kierke-
gaard was one of the few who spoke out against this com-
placent optimism. He saw that man's deepest problems are
not to be solved by catchwords, or armchair speculation, or
legislative fiat. All human problems have their origin in the
nature of human nature.
Man is a sick soul, and there is no real solution for his
problems except to find the cure for this sickness. Kierke-
gaard's diagnosis of man's illness in The Concept o\ Dread,
and his search for a remedy in the Fragments and the Post-
script, constitute a penetrating and illuminating analysis.
The clue to understanding man is to recognize that every
human individual lives in a state of dread. No other creature
can know such a state—it is possible only for humans. It
arises from an individual's awareness of himself. He is aware
of himself as existing in time and having freedom of choice.
As he realizes that he is free, the future becomes an awesome
possibility. Being free, every individual must make choices;
94 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

it is possible for him to choose good or evil, fortune or dis-

aster. Every moment is a crisis of responsibility. In his in-
wardness man must face this crisis alone, and he is afraid.
Being aware that he lives, he is also aware that he may die.
This is dread, as Kierkegaard explains in The Concept of
Dread:

One may liken dread to dizziness. He whose eye chances to

look down into the yawning abyss becomes dizzy. . . .
Thus dread is the dizziness of freedom which occurs when . . .
freedom gazes down into its own possibility. . . . In this dizzi-
ness freedom succumbs. That very instant everything is changed,
and when freedom rises again it sees that it is guilty. Itctween
these two instants lies the leap which no science can explain. He
who becomes guilty in dread becomes as ambiguously guilty as it
is possible to be."

Dread is, then, the psychological state that precedes sin. In

dread, the individual merely contemplates the wrong, and
fears it. H e has made no choice, and committed no overt act,
yet knowing that choice and action arc inevitably his, he
dreads the wrong, and is at the same time fascinated by its
possibility:

The nature of original sin has often been examined, and yet
the principal category has been missing — it is dread, . . . for
dread is a desire for what one fears, a sympathetic antipathy, . . .
an alien power which takes hold of the individual, and yet one
cannot extricate oneself from it, docs not wish to, because one is
afraid; but what one fears attracts one. Dread renders the indi-
vidual powerless, and the first sin always happens in a moment of
weakness; it therefore lacks any accoumableness, but that want is
the real snare.*
 " POOR INDIVIDUAL, EXISTING MAN " 95
Genesis (chs. 2 and 3 ) pictures Adam living in unself-
conscious innocence in the Garden of Eden. God has forbid-
den him to cat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil,
and he is naively obedient. T h e n , through Eve, he becomes
aware that he and the woman arc free to disobey G o d ; sin
is a possibility. T h e temptation comes through the woman
because woman is more perceptive than man, and therefore
more prone to existential dread.

Sexuality is not a sin; but awareness of its presence as a

difference between man and woman — as the possibility of a
relationship — causes shame, shyness, attraction and repul-
sion, and therefore dread. Dread leads to sin, and sexuality
becomes sensuality.
Sin came into the world by Adam's sin, as the theologians
affirm, but only in the sense that sin comes into the world
when any man sins. What happened, strictly speaking, was
that sin came into Adam. His sin is unique in that it is the
first, and is prior to all other sins, and therefore reveals and
illustrates the sinful nature of man. In existential inward-
ness, every man is Adam, and every woman is Eve.
It is human nature to sin. It is also human nature to judge,
and to judge oneself. But so long as a man permits sin to
absorb his attention, he cannot judge himself, and is lost in
sin. If he will turn his attention from the evil to the good,
this is the beginning of hope. Evil does not lose its power,
but it is seen in the perspective of the good, and the individ-
ual knows that he is guilty even in the mere contemplation
of evil. It is better to admit and accept one's guilt than merely
to dread it. As S. K. points out:

Dread maintains a sly intercourse with its object, cannot look

away from it, indeed will noi. for if the individual wills this, then
repentance sets in. . . . He who has the firmness to be . . . a
96 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

prosecuting attorney for the Deity. . . . not with respect to others,

but with respect to himself, wilt not find this saying difficult. . . .
Guilt, like the eye of the serpent, has the power to fascinate spirit.*
Dread can also be educative. It educates a man to the infi-
nite possibilities of freedom. It has a negative function to re-
veal to each individual the sinful possibilities within himself:
" T e r r o r , perdition, annihilation dwell next door to every
man, and . . . every dread which alarms may the next in-
stant become fact." * One is educated by dread whenever the
infinite possibilities for evil within oneself are faced. One
must be honest toward possibility.

Honesty with oneself, however, is not enough. Its end

would be despair were it not for faith. Honesty is a necessary
condition of faith, but faith goes farther. Faith abandons the
false security of finite respectability, and " assaults the infi-
nite." T h e soul that accepts its own dread and guilt and seeks
a remedy has not yet found the cure, but it has a " holy hypo-
chondria," and this is hopeful if it leads to faith.
Faith is the outreach of man's need. It is a man's firm
grasp of the truth which edifies. At this point Kierkegaard
ends his discussion in The Concept of Dread. It is a psycho-
logical study, as he has said, and psychology can go no far-
ther. So psychology surrenders the discussion of the cure of
sin to theology. In The Concept of Dread, Kierkegaard has
faced man's predicament that he is sinful, but powerless to
conquer sin; that he is guilty, but helpless to expiate his own
guilt.

In Philosophical Fragments and the Concluding Unscien-

tific Potiscript, Kierkegaard looks at God's problem of help-
ing man. One way would be for God to transfigure man by
bringing him to a level with God. Man would then no longer
be a prey to dread, which is a symptom of his finitcness. God
 " POOR INDIVIDUAL, EXISTING MAN " 97
and man would be equals. But this would be an artificial and
magical solution which disregards the inescapable difference
between God and man. It would not be a true expression of
God's love. It would do violence to the nature of man, and
man would be no longer himself. It would end man's life as
man. T h e Hebrews expressed this in saying that no man can
see God and live. If this were God's only possible solution, he
would face the sorrowful dilemma that not to reveal himself
would be the death of love, to reveal himself would be the
death of the beloved.
T h e alternative is for God to become man. This is, from
the human viewpoint, unimaginable. Man can pridcfully im-
agine himself to be God or an equal with G o d ; but that God
would make himself an equal with man is a " stupid
thought" which would never have entered man's mind. Yet,
when God docs just this, man stands in awe and worship be-
fore the miracle of divine grace. God becomes man, and
takes upon himself the form of a servant. He actually has
done this with convincing completeness:

The servant-form was no mere outer garment, and therefore

God must suffer all things, endure all things, . . . experience . . .
all things. He must suffer hunger in the desert, . . . thirst in the
time of his agony . . . be forsaken in death. . . . This entire life
is a story of suffering."

Indeed, it is not in the figure of an " omnipotent wonder-

worker " that God reveals his love, but in the figure of one
who humbled himself to become man's equal. He was born
as a man, lived as a man. And, since the servant-form is no
mere outer garment to be lightly put off at will, " God must
yield his spirit in death and again leave the earth." T

God has acted to save m a n ; but man is, typically, too stu-
98 I Hi LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

in. 1 and perverse lo accept the message and the means of sal-
vation. He prefers his own way to God's way. He takes great
pride in his intelligence, in his ability to diagnose his own
illness and discover the cure. So instead of asking the impor-
tant question, How can I avail myself of God's saving power
and grace ? man asks such a question as. Is there a God ? This
question is cither useless or silly. If God does not exist, it is
useless to try to prove it; if he does exist, it is silly to attempt
such a proof.
S. K. remarks that he always reasons from existence, not
toward it. He would not attempt to prove that a stone exists,
but that something existing is a stone. T h e attempt of phi-
losophers and theologians to prove God's existence is bad
logic because it inevitably " begs the question." It also con-
fuses two frames of reference: logic is abstract, faith is ex-
istential.
Because of vastly increased knowledge in the modern
world, men have forgotten what it means to exist. They have
turned to objective knowledge, and so magnified its impor-
tance that they succeed in knowing more and more, but also
in living less and less. Human existence cannot be experi-
enced by abstract thought. It cannot be objectively under-
stood by speculative philosophy. Therefore the attempts of
philosophers to correlate Christian belief with objective
knowledge and to " prove " the truth of Christianity result,
not in faith, but in skepticism.
Christianity is not speculative or abstract. It is the religion
that makes man's eternal happiness dependent upon a par-
ticular historical event. God came into the world in the per-
son of Jesus Christ. Christianity does not try to prove God's
existence by pointing to the evidence of purpose and design
in the universe, or by the logical necessity for a first cause. It
 "POOR INDIVIDUAL, EXISTING MAN " 99
says very simply; God was in Christ reconciling the world,
i.e., men, to himself, Only in a personal relationship to God
can man find the courage to be himself in spite of dread.
Only in accepting by faith what God has done through Christ
can man live in freedom from guilt, and master the sin
which so easily besets him.
Christianity has, as an intellectual necessity, a theology; but
it is not itself theology, for theology moves toward abstrac-
tion. Christianity is a relationship of individual men to God
and a way of life which this relationship reveals and sus-
tains. Christianity lifts man above his finiteness; it is exist-
ence, moment by moment, in the perspective of eternity.
T h e truth of Christianity is primarily subjective (personal)
truth. Those who seek to support or defend it objectively arc
therefore mistaken. They battle valiantly for the dependabil-
ity of the Scriptures: " the canonicity of the individual books;
their authenticity; their integrity; the trustworthiness of
their authors; and a dogmatic guarantee . . . : Inspira-
tion." * Kierkegaard speaks with great respect for scholars
and their splendid talents and earnest labors. But no one is
brought a step nearer faith by scholarly inquiry or conclu-
sions. Christian scholars do not engender faith, any more
than the enemies of Christianity can destroy faith by their
destructive criticism of the Scriptures. Faith is a passionate
commitment which does not need proofs and is not disturbed
by hostile criticism.
Those who would put the church in place of the Bible as
the authentic source and support of faith are likewise mis-
taken. This results in reliance on the literal acceptance of a
creed or in superstitious dependence on the sacraments as
having some magical efficacy. Creeds have their place, and
sacraments arc important symbols of Christian truth; but no
100 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

one is saved by assenting to a creed, nor can anyone depend

upon it that he is saved because he was baptized and at-
tends the lord's Supper regularly.
Equally mistaken is the man who would defend the truth
of Christianity on the basis of its historical success:
He confronts the poor sinner with innumerable hosts of past
generations, with millions upon millions, and then says to him:
" Now dare you be so insolent as to deny the truth? Dare you im-
agine that you are in possession of the truth, and that the eighteen
centuries, the innumerable generations of men . . . have lived
their lives in error? " *

Christianity stresses the significance of the individual. It

deals with the individual, and the individual alone.

It is an unchristain use of the eighteen centuries to employ them

for the purpose either of enticing or of threatening the individual
to embrace Christianity. He will . . . never become a Christian
in that manner; and if he docs become a Christian, it will be a
matter of indifference whether he has the eighteen centuries for
him or against him. 18

Christianity is a relation of subject to subject. Truth is sub-

jectivity; and subjectivity in the existence-sphere of Chris-
tianity is a relationship of faith, a man's grateful acceptance
of God's love and passionate commitment to love, trust, and
obey God. Speculation deals with objective truth, and while
this has its uses, it is quite irrelevant to faith.
T h e speculative philosophy of Hegel and his followers was
the currently popular " w o r l d v i e w " in both Germany and
Denmark in Kierkegaard's day. S. K. hints that it would be
difficult for a philosopher to hold a teaching position in a
German university unless he subscribed to the " Hegelian
system." " Alas," he exclaims, " what will not the Germans
 " POOR INDIVIDUAL, EXISTING MAN " 101

do for money, and the Danes do afterwards, when the Ger-

mans have done it first?"" Kierkegaard satirizes the tend-
ency to conformity even in matters of belief, " now that
travel goes by train, so that the entire art of keeping up with
the times consists in jumping into the first coach that comes
along." " No one can be a Christian by jumping on the first
coach of an excursion train. Christianity is an individual way
to G o d
Christianity is also a religion of paradox. It begins with the
paradox of the incarnation of God in human form. Man is
man, a finite spirit; and God is God, the infinite Spirit. T h e
two are separated by an infinite difference, a complete " oth-
erness." It is absurd to suppose that God and man could be-
come one. Yet, in Christ, God became man, in order that
men might find a way to God.
Dogmatism seeks to remove the paradox from Christian-
ity by explaining everything. T o accept a paradox as true is
difficult for the human mind, and intellectual pride therefore
rejects the paradoxical. Speculative thinkers rationalize by
saying " that there is no paradox when the matter is viewed
eternally, divinely, theocratically." This is equivalent to say-
ing that all a man needs to do is to achieve the perspective of
God, and he will see that seemingly contradictory truths fit
together neatly! There are no contradictions, and therefore
there is no paradox. There is no room for faith in a " sys-
tem " that claims complete knowledge of the true nature of
everything, that does not need to believe anything because it
knows all on the basis of a series of approximations and prob-
abilities:
Or suppose a man who says thai he has faith, but desires to
make his faith dear to himself, so as to understand himself in
his faith. Now the comedy again begins. The object of faith be-
102 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

comes . i l m r . M probable, as good as probable, extremely and cm-

pliatically piobahle. He has complcicd his investigations, and he
ventures to claim for himself that he does not believe as shoe-
makers and tailors and other simple folk believe, but thai he has
also understood himself in his believing."

This is not Christianity, nor is it of any real help to a man.

In attempting to eliminate the paradox from Christian faith
the speculative philosopher has not only lost the faith, but he
has become more absurd than the truth he sought to avoid.
No evasion is possible here:

Christianily has declared itself to be the etetnal essential truth

which has come into being in time. It has proclaimed itself as ihc
paradox, and it has required of ihe individual the inwardness of
faith in relation to thai which stamps itself as an offense to (he
Jews and a stumbling block to the Greeks —an absurdity to the
understanding. *
1

Christianity is then 3 religion of the individual, a religion

of inwardness, of subjectivity, of faith, of paradox. Its truth
is subjectively known by individual Christians. It cannot be
objectively " proved " or understood. It is not intended to be
understood, it is intended to be lived. Still unanswered is the
question that Johannes Climacus propounds in the " Intro-
duction " to the Postscript: " How may I, Johannes Climacus,
participate in the happiness promised by Christianily? " * *
How docs one become a Christian cxistentially? T h e an-
swer is, in part, clearly implied in Kierkegaard's description
of the nature of Christianity. One must find the way into
Christianity for himself. It is an individual matter, and faith
is an individual relationship.
Every person begins in the loneliness of existential dread.
 " POOR INDIVIDUAL, EXISTING MAN " 103
T o exist is to be afraid. T h e lonely individual first seeks to
resolve dread in the sphere of the aesthetic. Here the effort
is to escape responsibility. T h e aesthete covers up any feelings
of guilt he may have by seeking to make his life a continu-
ous round of pleasurahlc activities and relationships. He does
not have to be a " Seducer " or a Don Juan. His enjoyments
may be of the kind that society docs not condemn. But the
last thing he wants is to encounter himself. His only princi-
ple of choice is to seek the pleasant and avoid the unpleasant.
He never achieves selfhood, he never knows who he is cx-
istcntially because he never chooses firmly to become some-
one. He lives at the level of the first immediacy, with no true
inwardness, no subjectivity. If he thinks of God, it is (like
Regina) as a " rich uncle."
If he chooses to do so, an individual can escape the aesthetic
stage and achieve a responsible level of existence. When he
does this, lie becomes an ethical individual. This is the true
" c i t h c r / o r " choice. It is the major choice of every person's
life, for hy it he becomes an authentic, existential self. He
commits himself to ideas and ideals; he adopts responsible
relationships to other people; he seeks to do his duty toward
God and man. But he discovers that such responsibility is in-
finite, its standard is a standard of perfection, and no man
can attain it. Yet this man is an authentic existential indi-
vidual. Outwardly he lives a useful, respected life. Inwardly
his life may be one o f " quiet despair." Here we find Kierke-
gaard's " Judge William " :
I am the humbled man, conscious of my guilt; I have only one
expression for what I suffer — guilt, one expression for my pain
— repentance, one hope before my eyes — forgiveness, and if 1
find this difficult . . . 1 have only one prayer, 1 would cast myself
upon the ground and implore of the eternal Power who guides
104 THE L I F E AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

the world . . . that sooner or later it might be granted me to

repent.'*

By its very nature the ethical stage is transitional. It drives

a man who is truly existential (serious about himself) onward
to the religious stage. He is keenly aware of his moral bank-
ruptcy, of the wide gap between finite ability and infinite re-
sponsibility. He needs, and if he is desperate enough, he
seeks, God.
Kierkegaard describes religion as existential at two levels.
Religion A is the religion of immanence. If is Old Testament
religion —perhaps Old Testament religion at its best. It is
the faith of Abraham and Job. It is possible in any period of
world history and in paganism as well as in Judaism, and in
much that passes for Christianity. It knows the guilt and re-
pentance of The Concept of Dread and the infinite resigna-
tion and faith of Fear and Trembling. It also knows suffer-
ing.
Religious suffering, as Kierkegaard describes it in the Post-
script, is not to be confused with physical suffering. It is a
psychic tension in which the religious individual is pulled in
two directions by conflicting forces within himself. He is a
part of the culture in which he lives, and this culture is a
part of him. This involves many commitments; but he must
be absolutely committed to God, and so must renounce the
world and all relative commitments. His suffering is that he
must die to the world in order to live for God.
There is also tension (and therefore suffering) in the fact
that eternal happiness is not an immediate blessing but a fu-
ture one. This requires patience; and patience involves suf-
fering.
A third tension is between man's experience of an absolute
 " POOR iromDUAL, EXIST!N'C MAN " 105
relation to God and his inability to find any adequate exter-
nal expression for this relation. Says Kierkegaard, " Herein
lies the profound suffering of true religiosity, . . . to stand
related to God in an absolutely decisive manner, and to be
unable to find any decisive external expression for this." "
T w o human lovers, each with an absolute commitment to
the other, can, in contrast, find a happy expression of their
relation in their union with each other.
Religion A, with its guilt and repentance, its resignation
and faith, and its pathos of suffering, regards its own inward-
ness as the truth. God is immanent; he is within man. Reli-
gion A is a necessary approach to Religion B, or Christianity.
Christianity is made possible in man only by the pathos of
suffering. An individual who docs not know this suffering
cannot become or be a Christian. T o want to bc-a Christian,
a man must have in his heart the cry of Job: " O h , that I
knew where 1 might find him! "
In order to become a Christian, an individual of deep re-
ligious convictions must accept an added tension, the tension
of the absurd. Christianity is a faith in the absolute paradox
of a God who came in human form, and became man's serv-
ant. In Christ, Deity experienced all the religious suffering
that men experience. For immanence, God is always and
everywhere. In Christianity God does not lose this omnipres-
ence, but he transcends it by acting decisively for man's sal-
vation in a particular time and place.
This is absurd —illogical — b u t it is not irrational to be-
lieve it. One must believe it if he is to become existentially a
Christian. Through Jesus Christ, God has bridged the infi-
nite gulf that separated man from God. This was a descent
of Deity, an outreach of divine love. It cannot be explained
or understood, but it can be received by any man who will
106 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

accept it on God's terms. It requires a " leap " of faith, and

this cannot be made for any man, it must be made by him.
Therefore no one can " teach " Christianity to anyone else,
except in an abstract sense. Kierkegaard expresses himself
quiie pungently on this. " It requires a discipline of the
spirit to honor every human being, so as not to venture di-
rectly to meddle with his God-relationship; partly because
there is enough to think about in connection wiih one's
own, and partly because God is no friend of imperti-
nences." When it becomes possible for one man to com-
municate a God-relationship to another man, S. K. remarks,
it will also be possible to accomplish that famous impossibil-
ity of antiquity: to paint Mars in the armor that made him
invisible I
Kierkegaard does not even claim that he has such a rela-
tionship to communicate, and he avoids all appearance of at-
tempting such communication. He can only make clear what
a Christian relationship to God is, and perhaps even more
helpfully, what it is not. S. K. is far from professing to know
all, but says rather," There is much that I do not know." "
In an addendum at the end of the Postscript, Kierkegaard
signed a statement in which he acknowledged that he was
the author of all the pseudonymous works. He made it clear
that none of the pseudonymous writers can be regarded as
expressing the views of Soren Kierkegaard. For any damage
he has done to much that is good in the established order of
things, he is willing to make apology. His purpose has been
only " to read solo the original text of the individual human
existence-relationship, the old text, well known, handed
down from the fathers —to read it through yet once more,
if possible, in a more heartfelt way."w
CHAPTER 8

"Trampled to Death by Geese"

T ira " TOWN TOPICS " type of publication in Copen-

hagen in that day was a weekly scandal sheet
called The Corsair. Founded in 1840 by a talented young
Jew, Meyer Cioldschmidt, this paper had within five years at-
tained the largest circulation of any periodical in Denmark.
Its popularity was built upon a facade of intellectual snob-
bery and a solid content of malicious gossip. No one of any
prominence was safe from its pitiless assassination of charac-
ter for profit. T h e " good people " of Denmark publicly con-
demned The Corsair, but privately these same good read it
with avidity.

All of Kierkegaard's friends and acquaintances in intellec-

tual circles in Copenhagen had been pilloried in its pages.
S. K., curiously enough, had been spared. Indeed he had been
singled out for praise. In its issue of November 14, 1845, The
Corsair had said of another author that Lchmann would die
and be forgotten, but Victor Eremita ( " a u t h o r " of Ei-
ther/Or) would never die, Kierkegaard wroie an immediate
and sarcastic protest, but because he was busy with final copy
for the Postscript, he did not publish it.
S. K. had been uncommonly kind to Goldschmidt — had
been the only gentleman of standing in Copenhagen society
107
108 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

who accepted Goldschmidt as a person. He had praised

Goldschmidt's novel, 77ie few, hut he did not like The Cor-
sair, and had tried to persuade Goldschmidt to abandon it.
Writers for The Corsair did not sign their names, but took
cowardly refuge in anonymity. One of these, whose relation-
ship to the paper was unsuspected, was the brilliant and tal-
ented P. L. Moller (not be confused with S. K. s great and
good friend Paul Martin Moller who died in 1838). He was
a year younger than S. K., and had been one of his drinking
companions in student days. Though he had achieved some
reputation as a writer, he was a completely irresponsible aes-
thete. Kierkegaard had written " The Diary of a Seducer " in
a clever imitation of Moller s style, and probably had Moller
in mind as the model for the Seducer.
One of Denmark's well-known and respected poets had
died in 1845, and Moller was hoping to succeed him as pro-
fessor of aesthetics in the University of Copenhagen. In De-
cember of that year, Moller had an article in Goea, an " aes-
thetical annual " published as a New Year's gift book. Here
he reviewed Kierkegaard's " Guilty/Not Guilty," and treated
the characters as real. He praised the forthright and unin-
hibited " Seducer," and demeaned S. K.'s " Quidam." He
praised Stages on Life's Way in general as a work of high
literary merit.
On December 27, S. K. responded in a letter published in
The Fatherland, in which he expressed a wish to be attacked
rather than praised in The Corsair, and exposed Moller s
connection with that publication. The request to be attacked
in the pages of The Corsair got immediate results. Moller re-
plied in the issue of January 2,1846, with an article entitled
" How the Itinerant Philosopher Found the Itinerant Virtual
Editor of The Corsair." The article was accompanied by scv-
 " TRAMPLED TO DEATH BY GEESE " 109
cral cartoons caricaturing Kierkegaard.
From that time on, in almost every issue, The Corsair had
one or more articles ridiculing S. K., accompanied by numer-
ous outrageous and insulting cartoons. Kierkegaard's name
was not used, but the essays and the captions accompanying
the cartoons ran the gamut of his various pseudonyms. His
misshapen figure, his thin legs, the uneven length of his
trousers, and his omnipresent umbrella were cruelly carica-
tured. One cartoon pictured a young woman on hands and
knees with Kierkegaard astride her back, accompanied by
the caption: " Frater Taciturnus chastises his girl."
One of the witty little essays was a " prize-winning " dis-
cussion on the manufacture of cloth. Its main thesis was that
a pair of trousers must cither have one leg shorter than the
other, or both must be of equal length (either/or). The
Corsair for the next eight months missed no opportunity to
place Kierkegaard in the worst possible light before the Dan-
ish public: a selfish, snobbish aristocrat; a half-crazy eccen-
tric; an ugly, ludicrous, misshapen monster.
The Corsair's circulation, and Goldschmidt's profits, in-
creased. Other papers took up the hue and cry. T h e public is
always willing to believe the worst about a man, and Sorcn
Kierkegaard could no longer appear in public without being
derided and vilified by the very people with whom he had
most enjoyed visiting — the common people. He was deeply
hurt; and whatever remaining illusions he may have had
about human nature were shattered beyond hope of repair.
After one reply in The Fatherland of January 10, S. K.
kept silence. A Literary Review was published on March 30.
After that he published nothing for a year. But in the Jour-
nals he wrote voluminously. Here wc get his intimate reac-
tions to the distressing situation in which he found himself:
110 T H E LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

My life is wasted. If I had lived anywhere but in Copenhagen

that would be understood to mean thai I had wasted the best years
of my youth in frivolities. . . . Alas, no, the reverse is the truth.
I have become something — and it is just for thai reason that my
life must be looked upon as wasted in Copenhagen, where one
can only live happily and very comfortably so long as one is
nothing, here in Copenhagen where little but harm is talked of
those who arc something, ( t o r n which it clearly follows that those
who arc nothing can say with pride: nothing had is said of me.
If one is a student or graduate, a notary or registrar, but nothing
more, then when ihc heat is great and although it is not the
fashion to carry an umbrella in the sun, one can freely do so —
but if 1 . . . am so bold as to do so it is called pride.
1

These words were written in the midst of the attack. T w o

years later he is able to view the situation more calmly, but
still, quite judicially, he must condemn the land he loves:

And even though Denmark were willing to do so, it is very

questionable whether Denmark could make good the wrong that
it has done me. Thai I am the author in whom Denmark will un-
doubtedly lake pride, is certain; that |asj author, I have lived, to
all intents and purposes, at my own expense and without as-
sistance from government or people, have borne a continuous lit-
erary production without the smallest literary support from a pe-
riodical because I saw how small the country was: and then to
have had such treatment, my biggest work not even reviewed —
the machinery of the whole plan hardly suspected: and then its
author marked out by all that is vulgar and known by every shoe-
maker's boy who in the name of " public opinion " insults him on
the street . . . : no, no, Denmark has condemned itself.*

S. K. was a master of invective and sarcasm, and it is a

pity that the following passage from the Journals did not
see the light of day during his lifetime.
 " TRAMPLED TO DEATH BY GEESE " 111
In antiquity men demanded intclkctii.il gifts, an open mind,
and passionate thought. Only compare the present limes; nowa-
days in Copenhagen ihey require that a philosopher should also
have f.H calves or ai least a well-turned leg. and that his clothes
should he fashionable, ll becomes more and more difhcull unless
one is content wtih ihc last requirement and assumes thai anyone
who has fat. or well-turned legs, and whose clothes arc fashionable
is a philosopher.'

Goldschmidr frequently met Kierkegaard in the streets,

and tried to get some comment from him on The Corsair
articles, hut without success. In S. K.\ opinion, Cohlschmidt
was a filthy money-grabber. " T h e lack of independence,"
we read in the Journals. " is the ruin of everything, every-
thing depends upon money; if it could be made to pay 1 am
sure that one could get a man to edit a paper that was only
intended to be read in lavatories." * Yet even in the Journals,
Kierkegaard was kinder to Goldschmidt than that individual
had any right to expect:
Hcrr Goldschmidt . . . is an intelligent man. without a domi-
nating idea, without education, without a philosophy, without
self-control, hul not without a certain talent, and the strength of
aesthetic despair. At a critical moment in his life he lurncd to mc;
indirectly I sought to give him . . . support; I praise him for
having made himself a position. He has succeeded, I believe, in
what he desired. 1 had hoped that he would have chosen an
honorable way of making himself a name; it frankly pains mc
that as editor of The Corsair he continues to choose a contemptible
way of making money. It was my wish to stop a man. who is
after all gifted, from being the instrument of all that is vulgar;
bui, in truth, it was not my wish to be disgracefully rewarded by
being made immortal in a contemptible newspaper which ought
never to exist— . I t suited mc as an author to be . . . a b u s e d . . . .

I had hoped, at the same time, to profit others by thai step.'

112 T H E L I F E AND THOUGHT OF KIERKFGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

This rather long passage in the Journals concludes: " I f

Herr Goldschmidt will reply in a respectable paper and sign
his name to it, I will read what he writes; I no longer read
The Corsair; 1 would not even order my servant to read it,
since I do not think it lies within a master's authority to or-
der his servant to go to an immoral place." 4

On a day, probably in August or September (1846), Gold-

schmidt met Kierkegaard on the street and Kierkegaard
passed him by with a bitter look, and would not speak.
Goldschmidt wrote about the incident later:

There was something which fringed on the comic in that look

of cmbittcrmcnt, as in everything about his outward appearance.
But . . . there was room for all that was lofty and ideal in his
personality . . . which I did not want to see. It accused and op-
pressed me. . . . A protest arose in my mind. I was not to be
looked down upon in that way, and 1 could prove it. As I went
through the streets on my way home, the thing was decided; I
would give up The Corsair. 1

In this incident Goldschmidt sensed the essential moral

worth of Kierkegaard's personality, and knew himself to be
lower than low. As soon as it could be arranged, he closed
out his interest in The Corsair, and on October 2 left Den-
mark for Germany and Italy. He was back in Copenhagen
by December, 1847, became the publisher of a reputable pa-
per, and took a leading part in the adoption of the measures
that changed the government of Denmark from an absolute
to a constitutional monarchy.
There is no indication that P. L . Moller ever regretted his
part in the vicious destruction of another man's reputation.
From his point of view he had every reason to feel very bitter
toward Kierkegaard. S. K.'s exposure of Moller's connection
 " TRAMPLED TO DEATH BY GEESE " 113

with The Corsair was quite damaging to a reputation already

none too good. He did not receive the hoped-for appointment
to the chair of aesthetics in the university, A short time later
he left Denmark for France. From that time on he seems to
have moved in the direction that Kierkegaard's Judge Wil-
liam had regarded as inevitable for such a man. He died mis-
erably in Rouen a few years later, ironically dependent in his
last weeks of life upon the love and loyalty of two women
whom he had seduced.
This did not end The Corsair affair, for things were never
the same for Kierkegaard. Goldschmidt and Mollcr had
started something they could not stop, and the evil they had
done lived after them. Whatever hope Kierkegaard may have
had of being taken seriously by his own generation in Den-
mark was gone. He was generally regarded as an absurd
egotist, a comic figure — as he himself says, " t h e village
idiot." When he walked about the streets of Copenhagen,
he could no longer talk companionably with the common
folk as he had loved to do. They looked at him askance. O n
his carriage rides, he was often exposed to taunts and ridi-
cule. All his life he had enjoyed the streets and parks of the
city and the countryside around about. Now he dreaded to
show himself.
Students in Copenhagen University wrote and produced a
play whose principal character was called " Sorcn K i r k . " It
was actually intended to ridicule a few students who still
took Kierkegaard seriously and tried to be " little Kicrkc-
gaards." S. K. remembered his own student days, and as a
typical undergraduate activity accepted it in a spirit of good
s|H>rtsmanship. Soon, however, the play was being produced
all over the country. Eventually it was produced in Copen-
hagen at the Theater Royal, and also in Norway. There a
114 THE L I F E AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

newspaper account of the play openly referred to the play's

principal character as Sorcn Kierkegaard.
T h e name Sorcn had been the commonest name in Den-
mark, but fell into disfavor and disuse from this time on.
There arc still many Sorcnscns in Denmark, but almost no
Sorens. Kierkegaard's career as a writer was ruined. Some
of his books had sold well, notably F.itlter/Or, which went
into a second edition, and continued to be read. Ilut the
Postscript, which S. K. with considerable justification re-
garded as his greatest work, sold only about fifty copies.
Since he had no publisher, but had all his books printed at
his own expense widi the hope of recovering his money from
sales, this situation created a serious financial problem.
S. K. was also hurt and disappointed that none of his lit-
erary contemporaries and none of the reputable newspapers
came to his defense. Privately his friends anil acquaintances
in his presence deplored his persecution by The Corsair. But
he knew that they also rend the paper, and he suspected that
they actually enjoyed seeing him lampooned.
Yet the whole experience was one of the great formative
influences in Kierkegaard's life and thinking. Christians
have no cause to feel grateful to Judas Iscariot, and yet arc,
in a sense, indebted to him. In the same sense we arc indebted
to Meyer Goldschmidt and P. L. Moller. In retrospect,
Kierkegaard was able to view the whole experience as a part
of God's plan for him:

I do not feel any bitterness at the thought of all the scorn that
I have suffered, and the treachery that I have endured. . . . I feel
quite sure that in eternity there will be time and place for jokes,
I am certain that the thought of my thin legs and my ridiculed
trousers will be the source of greatest amusement to me. . . .
What I suffered in that respect 1 suffered in a good cause. . . . I
 TRAMPLED TO DEATH » V GEESE " 115
did a good work humanly speaking, with disinterested sacri-
fice. . . .
1 have never been a Diogenes. I have never touched the fron-
tiers of cynicism, I am properly and respectably dressed — 1 am
not responsible for a whole country having become a madhouse.
I feci a longing to say nothing more except Amen. I am over-
whelmed by all that Providence has done for mc. . . . There is
nothing which has happened in my life of which I cannot say,
that this is the very thing which suiti my nature and disposi-
tion, . . . I was persecuted, . . . had that been wanting my life
would not have been mine. There it melancholy in everything
in my life, but then again an indescribable happiness. . . . In that
way I became myself through God*» indescribable grace and sup-
port.'

Through this experience, Kierkegaard saw that his plan to

abandon his writing at what was then the height of his pop-
ularity, and become a country pastor, was prideful rather
than humble, a temptation rather than an inspiration. By it
all he was truly humbled and prepared to be guided by
God's will. It became clear to him that God had given him
something more to say, and he must resume his authorship:
God be praised that the attack of all that is vulgar was made
upon me. Now I have had time to learn from within and to
assure myself that the desire to live in a country parsonage in
otdcr to do penance, remote from the world and forgotten, was
really a melancholy idea. Now 1 stand at my post, decided in
quite a different way than 1 have ever been.*

H e had acquired a whole new perspective of his task in

life. Literary, social, political, and religious conditions re-
quired, as he wrote in his Journals, an exlraordinarius, a new
Socrates. It was a task that his unmarried state made possible;
no one was dependent upon him or close enough to him to
116 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

be harmed or hurt when he was vilified and persecuted. It

was a task for which he was, as he admits, properly en-
dowed " by intellectual gifts and " cast of mind." It was a
task in which he would be misunderstood, lonely, and friend-
less. It would take him along a road that led patently to dis-
aster:

Humanly speaking my actions will go unrewarded. Nor do I

ask for anything else. The fact that at ihe moment a certain im-
patience may awaken in my soul proves nothing, for I am will-
ing . . . to sacrifice everything and hope that God will give me
the strength to bear it all.
. . . From now on, humanly speaking, I must not only be said
to be running into uncertainty, but to be going to certain destruc-
tion—and, in confidence in God, that is victory. 10

Heretofore S. K. had conceived of his vocation as the in-

tellectual task of making clear to men what Christianity is.
Henceforth it would be the existential task of suffering for
Christ's sake in the midst of a generation that would only be-
gin to understand him after his death. H e was to be a
prophet who would be unrecognized, and indeed " unrecog-
nizable." Making no pretensions and no claims for himself,
he would be a witness for the only truth that is cxistcntially
important — Christian truth.
In February, 1846, in the midst of his persecution by The
Corsair, Kierkegaard wrote a review of a book entitled The
Two Ages. It was published on March 30. T h e second part
of this long review, The Present Age, is a penetrating com-
mentary on the society of his day.
Prevailing social pressures in almost any age place a pre-
mium on conformity. Men tend to dislike and distrust an ec-
centric person, and arc intuitively opposed to new or different
 " TRAMPLED TO DEATH BY CEESH " 117
ideas. Kierkegaard was a nonconformist, not only in such
nonessentials as umbrellas and trousers, but also in his whole
perspective of life. T h e ideologies of the nineteenth century
subordinated the individual and advocated a mass cqualitari-
anism in which the aim seemed to be to reduce all men to a
level of mediocrity. S . K. was one of the few men of his gen-
eration who saw the danger and spoke his mind on the sub-
ject, both in The Present Age and in the journals:

The thing thai makes my position in public life most diffi-

cult . . . is that people simply cannot grasp what 1 am fighting.
T o make a stand against the masses is, in the opinion of the ma-
jority, complete nonsense; for the masses, . . . the public, are
themselves the . . . lovers of liberty of whom salvation it to come
from kings, popes, and officials who tyrannize over us. . . . That
is the result of having fought for centuries against kings and
popes and the powerful, and of having looked upon the masses as
something holy. It docs not occur to people that historical cate-
gories change, that now the masses arc the . . . tyrant. . . .
The antients understood the problem better, understood that
the masses arc a dangerous power. . . .
If mankind had not embedded itself, with the momentum of
centuries, . . . in the idte fixe that a tyrant is one man, they
would understand that to be persecuted by the mattes it the most
grievous of all."

Kierkegaard saw that the majority can be as often wrong

as right, that the principle of the right of the people to rule
contains no guarantee that the people will rule rightly, that
there is indeed no virtue in government by the people as
such. T h e rightness or wrongncss of any government de-
pends upon its leadership. Political democracy, he reminds
us, is good government only when men of good character
choose leaden of superior ability and character. Democracy
118 THE LIFE AND THOUCHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

devoid of worthy leadership and divorced from morality

easily becomes " monocracy." " When truth conquers with
the help of 10,000 yelling m e n — e v e n supposing that that
which is victorious is a truth: with the form and manner
of the victory a far greater untruth is victorious." '*
T h e present age, says Kierkegaard, is not committed to
values; men do not live or work or sacrifice for their ideals,
they merely think and talk about them. N o one lives passion-
ately cither to serve or to sin. Men talk about revolution, but
have no serious intention of actually revolting. S. K. writes:
" A passionate, tumultuous age will overthrow everything,
pull everything down; but a revolutionary age, that is at the
same time reflective and passionless . . . leaves everything
standing but cunningly empties it of significance." '*
An age that docs not inspire men to great enthusiasms will
inevitably provoke them to envious resentments. In such an
age men do not act for the achievement of great ends; they
brood over real or fancied wrongs. Even an enthusiastic age
must have outlets for the expression of envy (caricature and
other forms of humor, and the Greek ostracism). These arc
relatively harmless as long as the common people have char-
acter values and, while envying the great man, can still ad-
mire his greatness.
But, as Kierkegaard saw clearly, the envious equalitarian
sentiments that infected European society in the nineteenth
century, and found expression in the demand for a classless
society, could only result in disaster for mankind. They
called for a leveling process which exalts men in the mass
and belittles man, the individual. T h e chosen authorities in
such a society would not be leaders, but mediocre representa-
tives of " s o and so m a n y " thousands of ordinary people.
Their function would be, not to lead the common people,
 TRAMPLED TO DEATH BV GEESE " 119
but to give ihcm what they want. T h e " p u b l i c " rules, and
the little roan gets an exaggerated sense of his own impor-
tance. Rut such a society will strip the little man and the
gifted man alike of all opportunity to be an individual.
" Though the very abstraction of leveling gives the individ-
ual a momentary, selfish kind of enjoyment, he is at the
same time signing the warrant for his own doom." "
Kierkegaard believed that the only sense in which all men
are equal is that God loves all men equally. T h e doctrine of
human equality is true only in a context of religious faith.
Only a religious individual has the sobering sense of his re-
sponsibility toward God, which can save him from arrogance
and stupidity. Only man as an existing and responsible indi-
vidual is real. " T h e public " is an abstraction — and a dan-
gerous one, because it is mistakenly regarded as real:

A public is everything and nothing, the most dangerous of all

powers and the mast significant: one can speak to a whole na-
tion in the name of the public, and still the public will be less
than a single real man however unimportant.
If 1 tried to imagine the public as a particular person, . . . I
should perhaps think of one of the Roman emperors, a large well-
fed figure, suffering from boredom, looking only for the sensual
intoxication of laughter. . . . And so for a change he wanders
about, indolent rather than bad, but with a negative desire to
dominate."

Men think they can make themselves significant by band-

ing themselves together in associations or committees, or by
signing petitions. " Twenty-five signatures make the most
frightful stupidity into an opinion." Mere numerical strength
is ethical weakness. F o r twenty-five men, or 25,000, to unite
in support of something wrong docs not make it right:
120 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOB EVERYMAN

Ii is only after the individual has acquired an ethical outlook,

in (he face of ihc whole world, that there can be any suggestion
of really joining together. Otherwise the association of individuals
who arc themselves weak is just as disgusting and harmful as the
marriage of children. '1

Kierkegaard prophetically predicted that great changes

would come in Western society. These changes would be due
to three major factors: ( 1 ) an educational-scientific empha-
sis on facts to the neglect of meanings; ( 2 ) preoccupation
with detached, reflective observation to the abandonment of
creative enthusiasm and action; and ( 3 ) idealization of an
abstraction, mass man, to the exclusion of real man, the re-
sponsible individual. There was, S. K. believed, no hope that
these forces could be baited, or their logical consequences
avoided.
In retrospect, and in the circumstances of our own time,
we sec that he was right. W e sec this most plainly in the col-
lective schizophrenia of the totalitarian ideologies of fascism,
nazism, and communism. W e can see it also in our own so-
cial order — and, if we will, in ourselves.
Kierkegaard was a political conservative in his day, and a
strong supporter of the Danish monarchy. In 1846 and 1847
King Christian VIII several times summoned S. K. to the
palace because of his wise knowledge of the thinking of the
Danish people. Coming in the midst of The Corsair affair,
this was balm to the spirit of one who, to use his phrase, was
being " trampled to death by geese." T h e king enjoyed S. K.'s
independence of spirit and his humor. Few subjects of an
absolute monarch would address to their sovereign such re-
marks as the following:

I have often pondered what a king should be. In the first place,
he can perfectly well be ugly; then he ought to be deaf and blind,
or at least pretend to be so, for that gets over many difficulties; a
 TRAMPLED TO DEATH BY GEESE "

tact leu or nupid re mark is best put ofT by an " I beg your pardon ~
— i x , the king has not heard iL Finally a king ought to have
some expression which be can use on every occasion, and is con-
sequently meaningless. . . . One thing more: the king must take
care lo be ill every now and then, so as to arouse sympathy."

In all his troubles, Kierkegaard had not lost his sense of

humor. What he was saying whimsically to the king was
that a monarch docs better by not appearing to his people to
have too definite a pattern of special preferences or abilities.
So it will be easier for him to become in popular thinking a
symbol of all that people wish their ruler to be.
Christian VIII would have liked to subsidize Kierke-
gaard's writing by a regular gratuity from the crown in rec-
ognition of his distinguished ability and contribution. But
S. K. pointed out in their first interview that such a gratuity
would place him under obligation. He did not want to sacri-
fice the independence that was his as a private, self-support-
ing individual, even though it would have relieved him of fi-
nancial problems. He also wanted it clear that, while he was
a loyal subject of the Danish monarchy, his absolute alle-
giance was to God alone. " I have the honor," he said to the
king, " to serve a higher power for the sake of which I have
staked my life." "
S. K. had a great concern for the problems of society, and
temporarily he assumed die role of a social prophet. But this
was not the only or the most important outcome of his suf-
fering in The Corsair persecution. H e was a religious man,
this was his primary interest, and his relationship to God was
his deepest concern. T h e year of silence (March, 1846, to
March, 1847) brought an experience of deepening faith.
When he spoke again, his witness had a new authenticity.
He had acquired, as he says, a new string to his instrument.
CHAPTER 9

"Thou and I Are Sinners"

K; IERKF.CAARD did not. spend the " year of silence "

.in idleness. He was bringing himself and Chris-
tianity into a new perspective, and was working hard at it.
One result was that he wrote a big book which he didn't
publish. It had been clear to him for a long time that he was
an " ugly gosling " who had grown up unable to cackle with
the other geese. In the unpublished " great work on Adler,"
though he was writing about another man, S. K. was really
stretching his neck to " take a gander " at himself.

T h e case of A. P. Adler is of little importance now. H e was

a clergyman of the Danish Lutheran Church, who had been
deposed for claiming to be divinely inspired. Kierkegaard
had always been too sane to take such a view, or to make
such claims for himself. What was wrong with Adler ? One
of the Two Minor Ethico-Rcligious Essays, published in 1849
and entitled " Of the Difference Between a Genius and an
Apostle," gives S. K.'s answer. Rare insight and artistry may
stamp a man as a genius, even a religious genius perhaps, but
these qualities don't make him an apostle. Genius is a matter
of superior human ability; an apostle may be a very ordinary
man — he is what he is by divine appointment and authority.
S . K. claimed no authority for himself. From their begin-
122
 " THOU AND I A M SINNERS "

ning in 1843, he had published his religious writings, as he

says," withoul authority." His ideas were his own; he did not
profess to be divinely inspired. Nor did he claim the author-
ity of the church. He was not ordained to preach the gospel,
and therefore wrote, not sermons, but " edifying discourses."
The eighteen discourses of 1843-1844 had expressed the
great Christian themes of gratitude, love, faith, spiritual need,
sin, forgiveness, and eternal happiness. They quoted the
Chrisiian Scriptures and interpreted them with true under-
standing. But they avoided the name of Christ and the dis-
tinctively Christian doctrines of the incarnation and the
atonement. The Three Discourses on Imagined Occasions
of 1845 was S. K.'s last expression of this true but limited per-
spective. He knew that the incarnation of God in Christ and
the atoning death of Christ for man's salvation were essential
Christianity, and he could expound this philosophically in
the Postscript, but they were not yet part of his own Chris-
tian experience. He therefore could not speak of them di-
rectly in his discourses.
The Corsair persecution drove him deeper. When he re-
sumed publication in March, 1847, with Edifying Discourses
in Various Spirits, a change is evident. The " key that ex-
plains all" is " God's Son, . . . revealed in human form,
. . . crucified." The first joy of the Christian life is " The
1

foy That Lies in the Thought of Following Christ."'

He has a new and intriguing conception of the speaker-
hearer (or writer-reader) relationship. Both speaker and lis-
tener have a responsibility before God:
The foolishness of many is this, that they . . . look upon the
speaker as an actor, and the listeners as theatergoers who are to
pass judgment upon the artist. But the speaker is not die ac-
tor. . . . No, the speaker is the prompter. There are no theater-
124 T H E L I F E AND THOUGHT O F KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

goers preseni, for each listener will be looking inio his own heart.
The stage is eternity, and the listener, if he is ihc true listener,
stands before God during the talk. The prompler whispers to
the actor what he is lo say, but ihc actor's repetition of it is the
main concern. . . .
The address is not given for ihc speaker's sake, in order that
men may praise or blame him. . . . If the speaker has a respon-
sibility for what he whispers, ihcn the listener has an equally
great responsibility not to fall short in his task. . . . In the most
earnest sense, God is the critical theatergoer, who looks to sec how
the lines arc spoken and how they are listened to. 1

Kierkegaard here turns the tables on the critical sermon

tasters in every congregation. They are not there to be enter-
tained. The speaker is responsible, not to the listeners, but
before God. Each listener has, before God, an equal respon-
sibility. He is to receive the spoken word into his own heart,
and permit it to transform his attitudes and his life.
Here, then, is S. K. s own conception of the nature of his
task. He was a preacher of the Word of God without a pul-
pit. He was a prompter from the wings in the great drama of
life. His own generation would not listen to him, but this
was their responsibility. His responsibility before God was to
speak; and speak he did. The result was a new period of pro-
ductivity that pivoted upon his " second conversion " on
Wednesday before Easter in 1848. Three of his great devo-
tional works were written before this experience. Thefirstof
these was Edifying Discourses in Various Spirits (now pub-
lished in English in two separate books, Purity of Heart and
The Gospel of Suffering). The other two were Workj of
Love (September, 1847) and Christian Discourses (April,
1848).
The theme of the discourse entitled Purity of Heart is the
 " THOU AND I ARE SINNERS " 125

quotation from Kierkegaard that is perhaps best known to

English-speaking readers: " Purity of heart is to will one
thing." H e writes:

For only the pure in heart can see God, and therefore draw
nigh to him; and only by God's drawing nigh to them can they
maintain this purity. And he who in truth wills only one thing
can will only the Good.*

Doublc-mindedness, says Kierkegaard, is an attitude of

willing the good for external reasons: desire of reward; fear
of punishment; approval of others. Only the man who wills
the good unreservedly and for itself alone really draws near
to God and makes it possible for God to draw near to him.
And only then, i.e., as God draws near to him, can a man, by
God's power, become single-minded and pure in heart.
In such a state of mind and bean one learns to be content
with his crcaturclincss — with the limitations of being hu-
man. God's simpler creatures know this instinctively. Only
man has forgotten it, and lives in dread and anxiety. Men
may learn from the birds and the lilies to trust God com-
pletely. When a man trusts God completely, he also learns
that joy which comes through suffering and prepares him for
eternal happiness. This is the hard and narrow way, but it is
the only way, and one must choose it and follow it if he
would reach the g o a l . " It is not the way which is narrow, but
the narrowness which is the way." *
S. K.'s book Workj of Love discusses the attitudes of Chris-
tian love, rather than charitable deeds. He believed that the
Lutheran ism of his day had set such an emphasis upon salva-
tion by faith alone that men had lost sight of the necessity for
love and good works. His basic text is Mark 12:31: " T h o u
shall love thy neighbor as thyself."
126 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KtERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

Christian love is noi a sentiment or an emotion, hut a duty,

a response of the human will in obedience to a divine com-
mand: " T h o u thalt love thy neighbor as thyself." It is also
a duty toward all m e n : " T h o u shalt love thy neighbor"
One's neighbor may be quite unlovable or undeserving, may
even be one's enemy; but the Christian must love all men
without partiality and every man without exception. " If,"
says Kierkegaard, " a man . . . wishes to make an exception
in the case of one man whom he does not wish to love, then
such love is not . . . Christian l o v e . "
-

T h e duty of Christian love is a command to each individ-

ual: " Thou shalt love thy neighbor." It is a personal respon-
sibility. No man may properly question the sincerity of an-
other man's good works. As S. K. quaintly points out, a tree
must be known by its fruits, but this does not mean that any
tree may be critical of the fruits of other trees.
Workj of Love is a valuable contribution to the under-
standing of motivation in Christian social ethics, and of the
reality and consistency of love in the inward life of the indi-
vidual Christian. Cod is always the third party in this rela-
tionship. If 1 am truly to love my neighbor (S. K. would say),
God's love for me must be the motive and source of my love;
and it is possible for me to love my ncighlmr only by the
power of God's grace in my life. In Christianity, faith, love,
and the works of love are inseparably connected with each
other. Faith without works is dead, and love without works
is hypocrisy.
Christian Discourses completed this trilogy of devotional
Uterature, and here are to be found the recurrent themes of
the lilies and the birds, and joy in suffering. Here also is an
anticipation of a new and searching exposure of weaknesses,
falsities, and hypocrisies of " popular " Christianity, under
 • THOU AND I ARE SINNERS " 127

ihe title " Thoughts Which Wound from B e h i n d . " ' Out-
wardly and inwardly S. K. was experiencing great changes
while this book was being written.
On May 5,1847, he observed his thirty-fourth birthday. It
came as a surprise, for he had shared with Peter and their fa-
ther the melancholy conviction that none of M. P. Kierke-
gaard's childcn would survive their thirty-fourth year. Peter,
eight years older than Sorcn and in good health, had obvi-
ously been an exception to tins " infallible law." But Sorcn
had still clung to the personal conviction that he would not
live this long. H e had planned his life — a n d his finances —
with this in mind. As a result, he stood on the threshold of
his thirty-fifth year in no worse health than usual and facing
the necessity of finding some adequate means of income. T h e
capital inherited from his father was almost gone, and the in-
come from the sale of his books was meager.

His solution, to which Peter agreed, was to sell the house.

So the old home on the Nytorv was put up for sale; and S. K.
for some months was tied down by the necessity of being at
home to deal with prospective buyers. In August he gave up
a projected trip to Berlin for this reason.
O n August 14 he wrote in the Journals: " Curiously
enough the journey to Berlin is still in my thoughts. But I
cannot go. A man has applied to me regarding the sale of
my house." And again on August 16: " So the decision is
taken; I remain at home. Tomorrow the manuscript goes to
the printer."" T h e manuscript mentioned was Workj of
Love. This passage in the Journals moves on to deeper mat-
ters:

I now fed die need of approaching nearer to myself in a deeper

sense, by approaching nearer to God in ihc understanding of my-
128 T H E LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

self. I must remain on the spot in Copenhagen and be renewed

inwardly. . . .
I must come to closer grips with melancholy. It has until now
Iain deep down, and the tremendous intellectual strain has helped
to keep it down. . . . My work has profited others, . . . God has
approved it and helped me in every way. . . . Again and again
1 thank him for having done infinitely more for me than I ever
expected. . . . Just because 1 began my literary activity with a
heavy conscience I have taken the greatest care to make it so pure
that it might be a small repayment of my debt. That puriiy, that
integrity, that indusiry is what seems to be madness in the eyes of
the world. . . .
But now God wishes things otherwise. Something is stirring
within me which points to a metamorphosis. . . . I dare not go
to Berlin, for that would be to procure an abortion. I shall ihete-
fore remain quiet, in no way working too strenuously, . . . but
try to understand myself, and really thinks out the idea of my
melancholy together with God here and now. . . . I have de-
fended myself against my melancholy with intellectual work,
which keeps it away — now, in the faith that God has forgotten
in forgiveness what guilt there may be, I must try to forget it
myself, . . . not at a distance from it but in God, I must see to it
that in thinking of God I learn to think that he has forgotten it,
and thus myself . . . dare to forget it in forgiveness.*

Kierkegaard had not yet achieved the feeling that God had
forgiven and forgotten his sin, but he had begun to believe
that this was possible. As a Christian he believed that God
forgives and forgets the sin of a repentant sinner, but he had
no sense of being forgiven, and so was not quite yet a Chris-
tian. His problem was paradoxical: How does one become a
Christian when he already is one? So he waited, and while
he waited things were happening in the world about him.
Regina was married to Fritz Schlegel on November 3. In
 " T H O U AND I ARE SINNERS " 129

December, S . K. sold his house for Rd. 22,000 (ca. $53,000).

T h e year 1848 was one of revolution and strife in many Eu-
ropean countries, and Denmark did not escape this. Chris-
tian V I I I died on January 20. On March 2 1 , King Christian s
successor, Frederick VII, met the leaders of a crowd which
had marched on the palace, and promised a constitutional re-
form. This came about in orderly fashion, and Denmark be-
came a constitutional monarchy. In the meantime the little
country had other troubles. There was a rebellion in Schlcs-
wig-Holstcin, followed by war with Germany. This taxed
Danish resources severely, even though the little country was
able at that time to retain control of the disputed provinces.
In his Journals, S. K. makes only indirect references to
these events. In April, just when he was about to move from
the old house to rented rooms at 156 Tornebuskegadc in Co-
penhagen, his faithful servant, Anders, was drafted into the
army, and S . K. had to make the move without his help. He
had carefully invested the money from the sale of his house
in government bonds. T h e events of the next few months
caused the bonds to depreciate in value to the extent that
Kierkegaard eventually lost about $1,700 of the capital on
which lie had expected to live for the rest of his life.
T h e Journals of 1848 are primarily concerned with his spir-
itual problems. He was approaching the " metamorphosis ••
he had hoped and believed would come. From the Journal
entry of April 19, 1848 (Wednesday of Holy W e e k ) , we
read the brief but sweeping statement: " My whole being is
changed. My reserve and self-isolation is broken — I must
speak."'°
This Wednesday before Easter experience has been re-
ferred to by some as his second conversion. It was a complex
experience, which made him, as he says, indescribably
130 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

happy; and yet its results were somewhat disappointing to

him. He resolved in the joy of the moment to abandon all
his painful reticence and isolation, to reveal himself fully to
others. Yet he found that a lifetime habit of concealing his
deepest thoughts could not be broken in a moment. He did
reveal himself quite fully to his doctor, and was advised not
to make the heroic confession of sins which he had planned.
Nor did the doctor think that the conflict between faith and
melancholy in Kierkegaard's nature could be completely re-
solved.

Faith had won many battles, but the doctor did not believe
that, in S. K.'s earthly life, it could ever win the war. T h e
melancholy was to remain; he would still be different from
others, an exception. But the experience brought new re-
sources of power and, even in the midst of his melancholy,
a sort of joy which the world did not know and could not
take away.
He was now deeply sure that God had not only forgiven,
but had also forgotten, his sins. This helped him to a greater
openness and frankness before men. He no longer was guilty
of the inverted hypocrisy of trying to appear before men to
be a frivolous loafer. His religion would still be one of in-
wardness, but not of " hidden inwardness." He would not
only write about faith, lie would show himself to be a man
of faith. His next book, The Point of View for My Work\ as
an Author, written between April and November, 1848, was
a courageous revelation of himself, and provided the indis-
pensable key by which we now understand much in him and
his writings that would otherwise remain inexplicable. In the
preface he wrote:

In my career as an author, a point has now beco reached where

it is permissible to do what I feel a strong impulse to do, and so
 " THOU AND I ARE SINNERS " 131

regard as my duly—namely. 10 explain once for all, and as di-

recdy and frankly as possible . . . what 1 as an author declare
myself to be. The moment . . . is now appropriate; partly be-
cause . . . this point has been reached, and partly because 1 am
about to encounter . . . my first production, Either/Or, in its
second edition, which 1 was not willing to have published earlier."

T h e second edition of Either/Or was published (with a

substantial financial return to its author) in May, 1849; but
The Point of View was not published during Sorcn Kierke-
gaard's lifetime. Peter Kierkegaard had it posthumously pub-
lished in 1859. S. K. had expected this. He was willing to
make posterity his confidant, but not his contemporaries.
In The Point of View, he wants it made clear that he has
been a religious writer from the beginning. His purpose was
to show men the true nature of Christianity. Most men iden-
tify Christianity with a culture pattern which they call Chris-
tendom. This, says S. K,, is " a prodigious illusion." Chris-
tianity is a personal faith, a unique relationship of individuals
to God. Ir is the way that leads to life, and few arc they who
find it. Most men to a greater or less extent live for pleasure.
So, in an effort to find men where they are, Kierkegaard be-
gan his authorship with the aesthetic works.
H e realized from the l>cginning that most men would not
respond. T h e culture of a comfortable bourgeois society and
the dogmatism of a stereotyped church were against him.
But " even if a man will not follow where one endeavors to
lead him, one thing it is still possible to do for him — compel
him to take notice." Increasingly, after 1848, Kierkegaard's
, ;

major effort was to confront men with the fact that what
they called Christianity was not Christianity.
H e continued to produce some searching devotional books;
he even wrote an occasional aesthetic piece; but his main
132 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKFCAARD FOB EVERYMAN

drive in the writings of this last period of his authorship was

controversial. His works were a series of sledge hammer
blows, aimed at destroying the complacency of conventional
Christianity. Three books, published in three successive years,
set Christianity in sharp contrast to the pscudo Christianity
of the contemporary church. These were The Sickness Unto
Death (1849), Training in Christianity (1850), and For Self-
examination (1851).
T h e first of these, like Fear and Trembling, is psychology
cal. T h e thesis of that work had been that all sin has its origin
in dread; the thesis of Sickness Unto Death is that all sin is
a form of despair. Despair is I consequence of a man's failure
to believe and to achieve. Failing to believe, he does not trust
God, and so lacks faith. Failing to achieve the ethical, he be-
comes discouraged and frustrated, and so is without hope.
H e is in despair about himself, about his real freedom to
choose, about God's power to save, and about the hope of
eternal life. So men retreat from reality, they will not face
the truth about themselves. 1*hey live superficially, half-
heartedly, or perhaps cynically or defiantly. They sin; and
they despair of their sins being forgiven.
All despair is sin. Yet a man must despair before he can be
saved. He must be far removed from God in order to be near
him. For despair about oneself, which leads a man to face
his own helplessness and cast himself on the mercy of God,
is the beginning of hope for that man. Far from encouraging
man to do this, however, popular Christianity lulls man into
a false sense of security.
Christendom has obscured and belittled man's distance
from God. It brings God so close, and makes him so familiar,
thai men no longer utter his name with solemnity, or stand
in awe of his presence, or fear his almighty power. " God
 " THOU AND I ARE SINNERS 133

. . . has become a personage all too well known by the

whole population, to whom one renders an exceeding great
service by going once in a while to church, where one is
praised for it by the parson, who on God's behalf thanks one
for the honor of the visit.""
Christendom substitutes mere observance of the ordi-
nances of the church for the fear and trembling in which a
man's salvation must be worked out. It has substituted an
easy optimism for rigorous ethical self-judgment. It falsely
represents man as being already so dose to God that it pro-
vides an opiate for his despair and prevents him from seek-
ing the radical cure of true Christianity. Man needs surgery;
the church gives him a tranquilizer. The lives of most men
are determined by " a dialectic of indifference." They under-
rate God, and overrate themselves. They become, not hum-
ble, but arrogant. This is hopeless sin and hopeless despair;
but men do not know it.
The Sickness Unto Death and Training in Christianity
were published with Kierkegaard's name on the title page,
but were ascribed to a new pseudonym, Anti-Climacus, as
the ostensible author. This pseudonym it y was transparent;
its purpose was not to conceal the author's identity, but to
express his humility. Anti-Climacus was the opposite num-
ber for Johannes Climacus, the " author " of the Fragments
and the Postscript, who knew what Christianity is, but was
not a Christian. Anti-Climacus knows what Christianity is,
and is a Christian. Kierkegaard felt that for him, in his own
name, to make such criticisms of others as arc expressed in
these books would show an unbecoming lack of humility. So
he invents an author who would have a right to make such
criticisms, but who could really never exist — the perfect
Christian.
134 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

T h e essential truths of Training in Christianity are not dif-

ferent from those of the Postscript. But there is a new hon-
e s t y — a new earnestness — a new relevance to man's condi-
tion and concerns. Christ, says Kierkegaard, is a historical
figure, but nineteenth-century Christianity overemphasized
his historicity. He is not to be limited to a period in past his-
tory, but is the eternal contemporary of every generation. He
still speaks to every man, not out of history, and not from his
at the right hand of God, but from the cross.
His call, " Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy
laden, and I will give you r e s t " (Matt. 11:28), is the invita-
tion of one who has known the ultimate in human suffering,
and who is willing to bear our suffering with us and pay the
price of our sin for us. He is the contemporary of every sin-
ner. He is the helper of every man, and he is also the help.
Standing beside the bed of pain of every sin-sick soul, he is
the physician and the cure.
T h e position of the church has been that it is hard to un-
derstand Christianity, but easy to be a Christian. T h e reverse
is true. Christianity is essentially simple to understand, but
to be a Christian is hard. Christendom is a grotesque distor-
tion of Christianity. " T o be a Christian has become a thing
of nought, mere tomfoolery, something which everyone is as
a matter of course." '*
Men are being deluded and victimized by " band wagon "
Christianity. Sermons boast of how Christ's disciples " made
a triumphal conquest of the whole world — i n short, one
hears only sermons which might properly end with Hurrah!
rather than with Amen." What happened in the fourth cen-
tury was not that the pagan world became Christian, but that
Christianity became a form of paganism. " Since that time
Christendom has been increasing in numbers year by year —
 " THOU AND I ARE SINNFJU " 135

and what wonder; for people are only too eager to take part
when there is nothing whatever to do but to triumph and
to enjoy the parade." "
Christianity is a religion of suffering. This is an offense to
many people, indeed, Christ was an offense to the lews. Ev-
ery man today has this c h o k e : he may choose to be of-
fended, or be may choose to accept Christ in faith. Chris-
tianity makes no apologies for itself and no defense. It is on
the offensive, or it is not Christianity. Its would-be defend-
ers, with their evidence of its triumphs and their proofs of
its truth, are " betraying, denying, abolishing Christian-
ity.""

H e who s a i d , " And 1, if I be lifted up . . . , will draw all

men unto mc " (John 12:32), docs from his cross draw all
men. But not all men permit themselves to be drawn. Some
are offended by the necessity of confessing that they are sin-
ners, some by the demand for the surrender of all self-trust
and self-will. These men do not become followers, yet they
arc admirers of Christ. T h e church, in its zeal to count ev-
crylxxly, has accepted these admirers into its membership.
So it includes the vast majority of people in every " Chris-
tian " nation. It has become the " established " church. It has
valiantly overcome all opposition by callous compromise. It
is " the church triumphant "1

And this triumphant church, or established Christendom, does

not resemble the church militant any more than a quadrangle
resembles a circle. Imagine a Christian of those ages when the
church was truly militant — it would be perfectly impossible for
him to recognize the church in its present perversion. He would
hear Christianity preached, and would hear that what was said
was quite true, but to his great amazement he would see that the
actual conditions for being a Christian were exactly opposite to
136 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN
what they were in his time, so that to be a Christian now is no
more like being a Christian in his time than walking on one's
legs is like walking on one's head."
W h e n Kierkegaard published For Self-examination, in
September, 1851, he put his own name as author on the title
page. He still wished, however, to avoid the appearance of
preaching to others with any assumption that he was better
than they. So, in a brief preface, he requested every reader to
read the book aloud, thus gaining the impression that he was
saying these things to himself.
God's Word, says S. K., is meant 10 be a mirror in which
each man sees himself. Protestantism has so stressed the im-
portance of the Bible, and Protestant scholarship has labored
so earnestly in examining it, that the Word of God has come
to be regarded as an end in itself. It has become the fashion
to look, not at one's reflection, but at rite mirror. Kierkegaard
compares this situation to a kingdom in which the king
issues a royal command which everyone is to obey. Immedi-
ately there arises a vast literature of interpretation: T h e com-
mand means this, and the command means that. Much learn-
ing is expended in determining the historical setting lying
back of the king's command and the circumstances in which
it was signed. Books and articles arc written on the structure
of the king's sentences, the logic of his ideas, and the philol-
ogy of his vocabulary. In all this hubbub, by which they
think they honor the king, it does not occur to anyone .to
obey the command.
Christianity is a narrow way. Christ makes this very clear.
It is also a hard way, and we may know that any way that is
easy is not Christianity. But an apostate church in a cultured
society cannot have it so. T h e kiss of Judas is still given the
Master by his professed followers, but with greater refine-
 " THOU AND I ARE SINNERS " IS/
mcnt and good taste. Judas was a crude fellow who cm-
braced the Lord with unwashed hands!
When the disciples saw the risen Christ on the mountain
in Galilee, they worshiped him. They were his followers.
But some doubted. These were never heard from again. It
was his followers who were persecuted, and who became the
leaders of the early church. In modern times, Kierkegaard
suggests, the situation has been reversed. T o be a " C h r i s -
tian " had become easy and commonplace:

. . . so that there was nothing left to persecute — then in idle-

ness and self-indulgence ihcre arose all sorts of doubt. And doubt
assumed an air of importance (who could doubt it?), and
people became self-important by doubting — just as once upon a
lime . . . they became self-imponant by giving all their goods
to feed the poor. . . . And while they doubled everything, there
was yet one thing beyond all doubt. . . . they assured them-
selves . . . an exceedingly sure position in society, along with
great honor and repute among men.
. . . But again there were some who sought by reasons to re-
fute doubt. . . . They sought by reasons to prove ihc truth of
Christianity. And these reasons — they begat doubt, and doubt
became the stronger. For the proof of Christianity really consists
in " following." That they did away with. . . . They did not ob-
serve that the more reasons one adduces, the more one nourishes
doubt and the stronger it becomes, thai to present doubt with
reasons with the intent of slaying ii is like giving to a hungry
monster one wants to be rid of, the delicious food it likes best."

In 1851-1852, S. K . wrote a second part of Self-examina-

tion, entitled Judge for Yourselvesl Out of genuine concern
for the feelings of Bishop Mynster, the venerable primate of
the Danish Lutheran Church, he did not publish it. Mynster
had been S. K.'s pastor all his life, and had been his father's
138 T H E LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

pastor. While he disagreed with the whole interpretation of

Christianity that Mynster represented, S. K. felt that he had
gone as far as he should in opposing him. So except for oc-
casional entries in the Journals. S. K. virtually quit writing.
After the death of Etatsraad Olsen, Regina's father, in
1849, S. K. began to dream of the possibility of a brother-
sister friendship with Regina. He met her on the streets
almost daily, and he saw her in church every Sunday; for an-
other man it would have been easy to exploit these opportu-
nities. But Kierkegaard could not do it this way. He wrote a
letter to her husband, asking him, if he approved, to give Re-
gina an enclosed letter addressed to her. Schlcgcl replied in
an angry note, returning Rcgina's letter unopened. S. K. s re-
sponse to this was to dedicate his Two Discourses at the Com-
munion on Fridays " to one unnamed whose name some day
shall be named." If S. K. could not have Regina as wife or as
friend, at least no one could prevent him from taking her
with him into history.
CHAPTER 10

"A Poet's Heart Must Break

T i KIERKEGAARD'S surprise, the drastic criticisms

of the Danish Church in his books of 1849-1851

attracted little attention. Bishop Mynster resented them but
apparently felt that it was wiser to keep silent. Few people
read these books at the time, and probably most of those who
did decided that this was what might be expected from so
eccentric a writer as S. Kierkegaard.
Such neglect, oddly enough, was not a wholly unwelcome
situation to S. K. He did not fear the anger of the public or
the opposition of the church; but he had deep affection and
respect for Mynster, anil dreaded an open break with him.
For this reason S. K. did not publish fudge for Yourselves!
and after June, 1852, lapsed into silence. But he realized also
that a more violent attack than any he had yet made was
necdetl, and must come, if he was to fulfill his task of being
a witness for the truth. So he waited for guidance and op-
portunity.
In the meantime he lived quietly and simply. He had en-
trusted his remaining capital to the keeping of his brother-
in-law, Hcnrik Lund, and drew upon it from time to time for
his living expenses. He lived abstemiously for the first time
in his extravagant life. He discovered some of the values of
139
140 T H E L I F E AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

disciplined self-denial, and became very humble about his

previous extravagance.
T h e Journals of this period give us limited but interesting
information about his thinking and activities. W e learn that
he met Regina in the streets almost daily. On his birthday
(May 3 ) in 1852 he met her just outside his door. H e writes:

As has so often happened lately I cannot help smiling when

I see her — oh, how important she has become!—she smiled
back, and thereupon bowed to me, I went a step past her, there-
upon I took my hat off and went on.1

On the following Sunday, Regina took a seat near him in

church. The sermon was on James 1:17, " E v e r y good gift
and every perfect gift." This had been one of S. K.'s first
texts in the Two Edifying Discourses of May, 1843, and he
knew from Sibbern that Regina had read these. W h e n the
text was announced, she turned her head and looked at him,
" a heartfelt look." She was obviously quite affected by the
announcement of the text and by the preacher's opening
statement: " These words are implanted in your souls." S. K.
was moved and deeply gratified:

It must have been overwhelming for her. I have never ex-

changed a word with her, . . . but here it seemed as though a
higher power was saying to her what I had been unable to
say. . , .
In the meanwhile I think that impression was so strengthening
that she can now maintain her position.2

S. K. had long since " died " to love, and given Regina up
for the sake of giving himself completely to God. By doing
this, he had found himself, and had, in his own terminology,
" become something." In the governance of God he saw that
this was the better way for him, but he had never ceased be-
 " A POET'S HEART MUST BREAK Ml

ing concerned for Regina. Now he was comforted by the

thought that she also had, in her own way, found a sustain-
ing faith.
She was still very much in his thoughts. T h e task that lay
before him would involve a complete break with the estab-
lished church. As he realized that Regina would not under-
stand his doing this, he had an additional reason for his re-
luctance to make such a break:

There is one thing which prevents me: her. She has no notion
of thai kind of Christianity. If I grasp at it, if I go through with
it, then there is a religious difference between us.
1

Kierkegaard remarks in the Journals that Christianity is

not a collection of teachings, but the development of charac-
ter. T o be a Christian is to become what God wills one to be.
S. K. W 3 s still being shaped by God, and reluctantly he real-
izes that there is one more step that must be taken:

There is something quite definite I have to say. But indeed I

am not eager to say it. On the contrary, I would infinitely prefer
that another should say it — which, however, would not help
mc, since (as I understand it) it was and remains my task. But
I am not eager to say it; on the contrary, I have wished and
desired and sometimes almost hoped thut I might be dispensed
from saying it. For it is not a cheerful message, . . . and there
arc several persons dear to mc to whom I cannot but think it
would be unwelcome to hear it said. Above all there is among us
a right revetend old man, . . . which has constantly held mc
back, . . . a consideration for the church's highest dignitary, a
man to whom by the memory of a deceased father I felt myself
drawn with an almost melancholy affection — and I must think
that to him especially it would be very unwelcome if this were
said.'
142 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

So S. K. waited, not at all impatiently, content to have his

final break with the church postponed:

God is infinite love in (his too, thai he does not suddenly and
all at once fall upon a man, and demand that he should be spirit
— for then a man must perish. No, he takes hold so gently, it is
a long operation, an education; sometimes there is a breathing
space, when God strengthens the patient in finite ways.*

Kierkegaard had learned that to love God and be loved by

God is to suffer. Happy indeed is the man who, through suf-
fering, has learned to love God. He knows that God's best
gifts are not those of prosperity and good fortune, but of suf-
fering. Yet it would be presumptuous of a man to pray to
God for suffering. Kierkegaard's prayer, therefore, has for a
time been a silent surrendering of everything to God.
Beyond this, it was not clear to him how he should pray.
Acceptance of suffering as a gift from God had brought
him an infinite happiness. In February, 1853, he wrote: " I
now feci so happy, so rich, so indescribably rich; at the pres-
ent time 1 am, had I to describe it, like a man who has re-
ceived enormous riches, at the moment when he does not
even want to think about the individual riches, but basks in
the whole of it — indeed I a m infinitely richer."*
H e was happy to be sacrificed, to be " a pinch of cinna-
mon " which loses itself in adding tastiness to the pudding.
Having long since " d i e d to the world," whenever God
called him S. K. was ready to die for Denmark:

Christianity in these parts simply docs not exist, but before there
can be any question of its being restored again " first a poet's
heart must break, and 1 am that poet"; these words of mine about
myself are only too true. . . . Denmark has need of a dead man/
 " A POET'S HEART MUST BUEAK " H3
Kierkegaard believed thai he would suffer martyrdom in
some form in order that he might make the true nature of
Christianity unmistakably clear to men. He was aware of all
the dangers of mental aberration in this direction, and with
remarkable self-discipline of thinking kept himself in per-
spective. Sometimes he wondered whether or not God would
really single him out in this way. Certainly martyrdom was
not a thing to be sought; it must come unsought. Humbly
he wrote (in the Journals) that he would not approach " too
near to God uncalled." He was therefore " brought to a
standstill," and resigned himself to this while awaiting " a
nearer understanding."
T h e Danish Lutheran Church was a typical, seriously led,
established church. Financially it was supported by the gov-
ernment from tax funds, and every minister was therefore, in
a sense, a stale official. Creedally the church was earnestly
Protestant. Ruhop Mynster was one of the better type of lead-
ers who emerged in such a church. He was an effective
preacher, a capable administrator, and a man of fine charac-
ter and great moral earnestness. In the midst of the wide-
spread confusion and skepticism of the times, he had given
the Danish Church solid moorings in a deep pietistic faith.
But, in Kierkegaard's view, it was a Sunday religion. At its
best it was a one-sided expression of Christianity. It found ex-
pression in solemn worship without any adequate applica-
tion in daily living. S. K. compared Mynster to a child's
nurse who persuades a child to take unpleasant medicine by
putting it up to her lips and pretending to take tome herself.
So Mynster, with great eloquence, said to his congregations
on Sundays, ** A h , Christianity tastes so good," and thought
no one would notice that he didn't actually take the medicine
he recommended.
144 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN
Mynster was a practical man. H e regarded it as fanatical
that anyone should require Christians to live according to the
teachings of the New Testament. S. K. was not unreasonable
about this. H e realized that a measure of practicality is nec-
essary. Few men can live in the Kierkegaardian way as " ex-
ceptions." Most men must compromise. But Mynster's error
was that he identified this compromising religion as true
Christianity and defended it. Compromise must be recog-
nized 3 s sin, and repented, not defended. A Christian must
live in daily awareness of his disobedient way; only so can
he be repentant, and humbly depend, not on his own right-
eousness, but on God's forgiving grace.
This Mynster refused to acknowledge. He could not see,
or would not admit, that his stereotype of religion was a
watered-down version of Christianity. Yet Kierkegaard had
no wish to attack personalities, least of all his old and re-
spected friend Bishop Mynster. He could not bear to hurt the
old man in this way.
When the attack came, the man who bore the brunt of it
was Hans Martcnsen, S. K.'s old teacher of theology in the
Pastoral Seminary of the University of Copenhagen. Only
five years older than S. K., he had achieved early success as a
theologian and " apologist" for Christianity. A leading ex-
ponent in Denmark of the rationalistic philosophy of Hegel,
Martcnsen had adapted Hegel's " system " to the needs of
Lutheran orthodoxy. T h e result was a system of his own,
which " explained " and defended all that Martcnsen re-
garded as essential in Christian belief.
T o Kierkegaard, Christianity is not amenable to logic. It
begins with the paradox of the incarnation of God in Christ.
This is absurd, and must be accepted as an absurdity. It can-
not be logically explained or defended. Martcnsen was there-
 " A POET'S HEART MUST BREAK " 145

fore not a defender, but a destroyer of true faith. Through

the years, S. K. had satirized him in such barbed comments
a s , " T a k e away the paradox from the thinker, and you have
the professor."
T h e outstanding characteristic of Christianity in Denmark,
Kierkegaard believed, was its mediocrity. Protestantism tends
to exalt mediocrity. Perhaps we cannot prevent this, but we
should at least recognize that it is far removed from the rad-
ical faith of the New Testament. T h e clergy of the Danish
Church were so far from being honest about this that they
had sunk into a blase cynicism. This called forth typical
Kierkegaardian sarcasm; the following is entitled " T h e
Preaching of the Gospel
Par/on: Thou shah die unto ihe world. The fee is one guinea.
Neophyte; Well, if I must die unto the world 1 quite under-
stand that 1 shall have to fork out more than one guinea; hut
just one question: Who gets the guinea?
Parian; Naturally I get it, it is my living, for 1 and my family
have to live by preaching that one must die unto the world. It is
really very cheap, and soon we shall have in ask for considerably
more. If you are reasonable, you will easily understand that to
preach that one must die unto the world, if it is done seriously
and with zeal, takes a lot out of a man. And so I really have to
spend ihe summer in the country with my family lo gel some
recreation."

Bishop Mynster died on January 30, 1854. On the follow-

ing Sunday. Martcnscn, who hoped to succeed him, deliv-
ered a memorial address in which he eulogized Mynster as
" one more link in the holy chain of witnesses for the Truth,
stretching all the way from the days of the apostles to our
own times." Mynster could no longer be hurt; and. in de-
scribing him as " a witness for the Truth," Martensen had
 146 tm U N AND THOUGHT CIV Kit. UK EGA AID FOB tWIYMAN

thrown out a direct challenge. Kierkegaard regarded it at

the signal for the attack. He immediately wrote an article en-
titled " Was Bishop Mynster a Witness for the T r u t h ? "
Rut because Martcnsen was a candidate for the hitliopric.
and a public controversy might damage his chances of clcc<
lion. S. K. did not immediately publish his protest. He
waited for ten months until Martcnsen had hern clwnrn, ami
Iris consecration was assured, as the bishop primate of Den-
mark.
T h e article was published in The Fatherland on December
1 8 . 1 KM. Martcnsen published only one reply, but other men.
most - ! ihcm writing anonymously, joined ihe controversy.
Kierkegaard carried on his silk- of the argument, in its early
stages, in a scries of twentyonc articles in The Fatherland.
the last of these coming in the issue of May 26. 18*55. In mid-
May, S. K. shifted the form of his attack with a leaflet pub-
lished independently, entitled This Must He Said. Late in ihe
same month he Ixrgan publication of his own periodical,
which he called The Instant. Nine numbers of this little pa
per .i|>p< atcil between May 24 and ScpumU i 24. T h e tenth
number was completed anal lying on his desk when hr died.

Tlie opening shot in Kierkegaard's attack was that Bishop

Mynster was not a witness for the truth, but that by word
ami by life lie had witnessed to a pernicious error. What he
had preached was not Christianity, anil the way in which lie
had lived was even farther from Christianity. This shoe was
not " heard round the world," but it was certainty heard in
Denmark. Everyone was shocked, the clergy was outraged,
anil the battle was on. S. K. gradually broadened his attack.
The second number of The Instant staled the issue clearly:

When Christianity came into the world the task was simply to
explain Christianity. The same is the case wherever Christianity
 " A POET'S HEART MUST BREAK " 147
it iniroduccd into a country ilic religion of which is noi Chris-
tianity.
In "Christendom" the situation is a different one. What we
have he-fore us is run Christianity, but a prodigious illusion, and
the pic arc noi pagans but live in the blissful conceit that they
arc Christians. So if in this situation Christianity is to be iniro
duccd, first of all the illusion must lie disposed of. But since
this . . . illusion is In the elTcct that they are Christians, it looks
indeed as if introducing Christianity were taking Christianity
away from men. Nevertheless this is the first thing to do. the
illusion muu go.'

Kierkegaard goes on to indicate that the task is twofold:

( I ) correcting the error in men's minds; and ( 2 ) destroying
the established church, which has a vested interest in per-
petuating the error. This church is indeed based on the er-
roneous theory that Christianity ami the state have been
amalgamated. No church subservient to the state can be ex-
pected to represent Christianity,
S. K. pointed out that the one thousand parish ministers of
the Danish Lutheran Church were state functionaries, ap-
pointed and paid by the state. Their primary loyalty was not
to Christ but to the established order of things. They had to
maintain church mcml>crship and attendance at any cost,
and keep Denmark "statistically Christian," or their jobs
and their careers would be endangered. On the other hand,
if they were ** successful " in the eyes of the world, their in-
come would increase, and their careers would be advanced.
N o man can serve two masters, and these men, professing to
serve Christ, had become traitors to him.
In fact, Judas was a mere piker in comparison. Judas be-
trayed Christ for thirty pieces of silver, and that was all he
got; these men betrayed him daily for thousands of dollars a
148 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

year. Judas betrayed Christ so honestly and obviously that he

was disgraced; these men betrayed Christ so cleverly that
they continued to be honored and praised as servants of
Christ. At ordination each of them took an oath to interpret
the Scriptures faithfully and with diligence; but the religion
they preached was not the searching, demanding faith of the
Bible, but rather a religion of bourgeois mediocrity that was
careful to offend no one and calculated to please everyone.
It is a mistaken notion that the state can supjxirt and " pro-
tect " Christianity. T h e best service ihe stale could render
Christianity would be to cut off all funds for the church, and
begin instead to persecute i t . " What Christianity needs is not
the suffocating protection of the state; no. it needs fresh air,
it needs persecution, and it needs . . . God's protection."
Kierkegaard advises men who are really earnest about being
Christians to sever all connection with a state-supported
church:

Whoever ihou an, whatever in other respects thy life may be.
my friend, by ceasing to take pan (if ordinarily thou dost) in
the public worship of God. as it now is (with the claim thai it is
the < IK r : II •. of ihe New Testament), thou hasi constantly one
guilt the less, and that a great one: thou dost not lake part in
treating God at a fool by calling lhai the Christianity of the New
Testament which is not ihe Christianity of the New Testament."

Kierkegaard did not expect instantaneous or wholesale ref-

ormation in the church. He did not really expect that he
could persuade the men of his generation lo abandon the
idea of a state church. What he hoped for was an admission
that this church did not represent New Testament Christian-
ity. Men seemed to think that they could deceive God, and
this was far worse than those sins which the church con-
 " A POBT'S HEART MUST BREAK " 149
dcmncd. He e x c l a i m s , " I would rather gamble, carouse, for-
nicate, steal, murder, than take part in making a fool of
God." "
T o speak of Christendom, or to refer lo Denmark as " a
Christian nation," indicates a belief that men can be Chris-
tians en masse. Christianity is a personal relationship, and
only individuals can be Christians. But men are dazzled by
numbers. S. K. uses as an illustration the story of an inn-
keeper who sold beer for a cent a bottle less than he paid for
it, and yet insisted that his large volume of business made
this operation profitable:
When one has laughed at this story, one would do well to take
to heart the lesson which w.irns against the power which num-
ber exercises over the imagination. For there can be no doubt that
this innkeeper knew very well that one bottle of beer which he
sold for i cents meant a loss of 1 cent when it cost him 4 cents.
Also with regard to ten bottles ihc innkeeper will be able to hold
fast that it is a loss. But 100.000 bottles! Here the big number
stirs the imagination, that round number runs away with it and
the innkeeper becomes dazed —it's a profit, says he, for the big
number docs it. So also with the calculation which arrives at a
Christian nation by adding up units which arc not Christian,
getting the result by means of the notion that the big number
does i t »

T h e idea of Christendom, S. K. says, is a betrayal of Chris-

tianity, and the concept of a Christian nation or Christian
world is apostasy. Luther had ninety-five theses; Kierke-
gaard has only one:
The Christianity of the New Testament simply does not exist.
Here there is nothing to reform; what has to be done is to throw
light upon a criminal offense against Christianity, prolonged
through centuries, perpetrated by millions . . . whereby they
150 THE LIFE AND THOUGHT OK KIERKEGAARD FOR EVERYMAN

have cunningly, under ihe guise of perfecting Christianity, sought

little by little to cheat God out of Christianity, and have suc-
ceeded in making Christianity exactly the opposite of what it is
in the New Testament.
In order thai common Christianity here in our country . . .
may be . . , related to the Christianity of the New Testament,
we must make it known, as honestly . . . as possible how remote
it is from the Christianity of the New Testament.
So long as this is not done, so long as we make as if nothing
were the matter, as if everything were all right, and what we
call Christianity is the Christianity of the New Testament. . . ,
so long as this criminal offense continues, there can be no question
of reforming, hut only of throwing light upon this . . . criminal
offense.'
4

Kierkegaard regarded himself, therefore, not as a re-

former, but as a detective ferreting out the evidence, and
making known the collective crimes of a " Christian nation."
Under Danish law, for instance, all businesses had to be li-
censed, and in order to secure a license a man must indicate
that he was a member of some religious faith. So a man who
operated a house of prostitution would register himself as a
Lutheran, and acquire the status of " a Christian whore-
monger I A young man who was an agnostic and " free-
thinker " must, to be socially respectable, have his child bap-
tized. He must then for the emergency be a " Christian " :

So they notify the priest, the midwife arrives with the baby, a
young lady holds the infants bonnet coquettishly, several young
men who also have no religion render the . . . father the service
of having as godfathers the Evangelical Christian religion, and
assume obligation for the Christian upbringing of the child, while
a silken priest with a (graceful gesture sprinkles water three times
 " A POET'S HEART MUST BREAK " 151
on the dear linlc baby and dries bis hands gracefully with ihc
I owe I —
And ihis ihcy dare to present to God under the name of Chris-
tian baptism.'*

When a child attains the age of fourteen, this baptismal

farce is continued in the service of " confirmation." This,
Kierkegaard says, is " a spendid invention, if one makes a
double assumption: that divine worship is in the direction of
making a fool of G o d ; ami that its principal aim is to pro-
vide an occasion for family festivities, parties, a jolly eve-
ning, and a banquet which differs in this respect from other
banquets that this banquet (what a refinement!) has a reli-
gious significance." w

Marriage and the observance of the Lord's Supper arc also

described with Kierkegaard's inimitable sarcasm. His atti-
tude toward marriage was particularly extreme. In his ef-
fort to shock people, he departed from the teaching of the
New Testament as a whole, and followed Paul's more ex-
treme statements. Indeed, he went far beyond Paul. He ad-
vocated celibacy for the clergy as the only way to lift the
minister above the earth-bound mediocrity of subservience
to the needs and wishes of his wife. He also denied that there
can be Christian marriage even among the laity. In all this
he was exaggerating for the sake of shocking his own gener-
ation into paying attention to his message. T h e extremes to
which he goes should not obscure the fact that basically his
criticisms of the Danish Church were just, and that most of
them apply to the church in our day also.
Kierkegaard aroused the bitter opposition of the clergy as
he hail expected. What he had not expected was that the
common people heard him gladly. Suddenly he was a pop-
ular writer again. People subscribed to The Instant and read
152 THE LIFE AND THOUCHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOR FVFRYMAN

it, and hit booki sold. It became necessary to issue Workj of

Love in a second edition. H e was more popular than ever
with students in the university.
But the " Attack " made little visible change in the estab-
lished church; and though Kierkegaard's books were read,
they were little understood. This would not have worried
him. Understanding and appreciation have come in the full-
ness of time. Unappreciated in the nineteenth century, he
has become the most influential philosopher of the twentieth.
T h e danger now is, as he feared, that he will become the
" property " of philosophers and ihcologians. He wanted his
message to reach " the individual." T o such a one he speaks
today as he did in 1855:

Thou plain man! 1 do not conceal from ihee ihe fact thai, ac-
cording to my notion, the thing of being a Christian is infinitely
high, thai at no lime are there more than a few who attain it, as
Christ's own life attests, if one considers the generation in which
He lived, and as also his preaching indicates, if OIK lakes it liter-
ally. Yet ncvcnhclcss it is possible for all.'
:

On October 2, 1855, S. K. visited his banker brother-in-law,

Hcnrik Lund, and drew the last installment of his remain-
ing capital. T h e tenth and final number of The Instant lay
completed on his desk. His money was nearly gone, but his
task was completed. On the way home from the bank he col-
lapsed on the street and was picked up and taken lo Fred-
cricks Hospital. In the hospital, he told them he had come to
die. T h e intern who took his " case history " has left us this
report:

He considers his disease mortal; his death is necessary to the

cause he has used all the powers of his spirit to further, for which
he alone has lived, and which he considers himself especially
 " A POET'S HEART MUST BREAK " 153
called and fined to serve; whence the great intellectual powers i n
connection with so frail a body. If he lives, he must continue his
religious struggle, but people will then tire of it; if he dies, on
the contrary, the cause will maintain its strength and, as he thinks.
its victory."

When he arrived in the hospital, Kierkegaard was para-

lyzed from the waist down. T h e paralysis progressively af-
fected other parts of his body, and he gradually grew weaker.
But his spirit was triumphant. T h e Lund family havtcncd to
the hospital as soon as they heard that Uncle Sorcn was
there; and Hcnrictte has given us a vivid picture of him as
she saw him on this visit:

I received an impression that with this suffering and sadness

there was murd a sense of victory as I went into the little room,
where I was met by the light which seemed to radiate from his
countenance. I have never seen the spirit break through it* earthly
frame in that way and lend it such brilliance, as though it were
the glorified body at the dawn of the resurrection. *
1

S. K.\ gentleness and cheerfulness made a deep impression

on numbers of the hospital staff. His nephew, Henrik Lund,
Jr., was an intern and was able to sec his uncle frequently.
The supervising nurse, Froken Fibigcr, became greatly at-
tached to this remarkable " old man of forty-two." She kept
fresh flowers in his room, watched over him daily, and, said
one nurse," What is more, she cries over you."
His faithful friend Emil Boesen was often at his bedside,
and has left us a record of their conversations. They talked
of many things: of his continuing affection for Rcgina (then
in the West Indies); of Peter Kierkegaard and their misun-
derstandings; of the state of his finances (enough left for the
funeral); of the controversy with the established church; and
154 THE [.ill- AND THOUCHT OF KIERKEGAARD FOB EVERYMAN

of the kindly care he received from the nurses. H e was con-

vinced that his illness was more psychic than physical, and
that if he believed he should live longer, he could do so.
They would need only to give him a glass of water and his
boots, and he could go home. Having lived as an exception,
he was ready to die, and was quite content to die in the or-
dinary way. He desired Holy Communion, but would not
receive it at the hands of a minister of the established church
because they were " the king's officials" and not true repre-
sentatives of Christ.
Boesen asked if he had anything to say, i.e., any last mes-
sage. H e replied:
" No; yes, remember me 1 0 everyone, I was much attached to
them all, and tell ihem that my life is a great, and to others un-
known and unintelligible suffering. It all looked like pride and
vanity, but it was not. 10

Boesen asked him if he could pray in peace. His reply was:

Yes, that 1 can; first of all 1 pray that my sins may he forgiven
me; . . . then I pray that 1 may lie free from dcsjwir in death,
and the words often occur to me when ii is said that death should
be pleasing to Cod; and so 1 pray for what 1 so much desire,
which is that I may know a tittle beforehand when death is to
come. 11

T h e last time Boesen saw Kierkegaard, he was lying com-

pletely helpless, and could hardly speak. He died on Novem-
ber 11, 1855.
T h e funeral service was held in the Cathedral Church of
Our Lady on the following Sunday. T h e large church was
packed with sympathizers and opponents. A crowd of stu-
dents fought their way into the church, and insisted on act-
ing as a guard of honor. Peter Kierkegaard, who delivered
 " A POET'S HEART MUST BREAK " 155
the funeral oration managed with great tact to maintain or-
der. But at the cemetery, as the dean of the cathedral was
about to conduct the committal service, he was interrupted
by young Dr. Hcnrik Lund, Jr., who denounced the church
for appropriating the earthly remains of a man who had so
decisively rejected its ordinances. Young Lund read from
Revelation 3 : H ff. the passage about the church in Laodicca
(" I will spew you out of my mouth " ) , and matched this
with quotations from The Instant.
But he who had suffered so in this life was at peace. H e
would be willing for us to forget him, if we will remember
and ponder and profit by his message. As we leave him in
peace, and turn each of us to his own way, we may appropri-
ately join in the prayer that he once wrote to preface his
Sickness Unto Death:

Father in heaven, to thee the congregation often makes its peti-

tion for all who arc sick and sorrowful, and when someone among
us lies ill, alas, of mortal sickness the congregation sometimes
desires a special petition; grant that we may each one of us be-
come in good time aware what sickness it is that is the sickness
unto death, and aware that we arc all of us suffering from this
sickness."
NOTES
 NOTKS

Chapter I L Ibid., p.
1. fournali. p. ION Quoutmiu 4. Ibid., p. 15.
throughout arc u*d by per- 5. Lownc. op. (i/.. pp. 68-69;
miuuxi uf iIn- publisher. »ee alio /onrnali. pp. 66-67.
2. MM, p. 556. 6. Ibid. p. 145.
i . Volume II. pp. 22S-22*. 7. Ib,d.. p. 21.
4. !,..• : . r . Kierkegaard, p. 58. I / « . . p. 19.
(.K.'i.i: i throughout JIC 9. Ibid., p. 26.
10. /*•*. p. 27.
u*ed by prrmmum uf the
11. Ibid., p. 27.
pubhihci JIH) M I V Wjlttr
12. The Contepl of Dread, p.
1-owrnr.
5 . Hid-., p. 58. IK
6 . Ibid., p. 57 U. four null. p. 29.
7. P. 112.
8. /ourmali, p. wt. Chapter i
9. /f,.: p. UU. Lowrie. op. nr.. p. 148.
10. FMher/Or, Vol. |. p. 21. lourmMs. p.
Quotation* throughout are mine.
utcd by pcrrmuaon of the M U , p. 28.
pubuAcr. / W , p. 28.
Ibid., p. J8.
Chapter 2 MM, p. 32.
1. / . ' • - / . . p. xaiii. Ibid., p. 47.
2. H M , p. xxii. /fc.f.. p. 52.
iw
 NOTES

9. Ibid., p, 54. 18. Lnwric, op. tit., p. 228.

10. Ibid., p. 56. 19. Journals, pp. 95-96.
11. MA, p. 57. 20. MM, p. 242.
12. /*»</., pp. 57-58.
Chapter 5
13. MM, p. 59.
14. Ibid., p. 59. 1. The Point of View for My
15. IbiJ.. p. 59. Worl^ as an Author, p. 3.
16. /*>«/.. p. 59. 2. Etther Or. Vol. I. pp. 15-
17. Ibid., pp. 59-60. 34.
18. p. 61. 3. Ibid., p. 15.
19. p. 62. 4. />.•.;. p. 15.
20. /fcrf.. p. 557. 5. Ibid., p. 15 .
21. MM. p. 137. 6. Ibid., pp. 19-20.
7. /*»«/.. p. 34.
Chapter 4 8. Ibid., p. 234.
1. \oiitnah, p. 43. 9. Ibid., p. 357.
2. MM, p. 44. 10. /*///.. p. 371.
3. /*»*/., p. 44, footnote. 11. Either/Or, Vol. II. p. 19.
4. Ibul., p. 55. 12. Ibid., p. 17.
5. /*.«/.. p. 60. 13. Ibid., p. 28.
6. ibu/., p. n. 14. Ibid., p. 38.
7. /*.,/., p. 64. 15. Either/Or. Vol. I. pp. 30-
8. /fc</.. p. 70. 31.
9. Ibid., p. 74. 16. Ibid.. Vol. II. p. 134.
10. Lnwric, op. til., p. 205. 17. Ibid., p. 136.
11. Iannuls, p. 92. 18. Ibid., p. 219.
12. MM, p. 93. 19. Ibid., p. 227.
13. Stages on Li\cs Way, p. 20. Journals, p. 117.
304. Quotations throughout 21. Ibid., p. 128.
arc used by permission of 22. Lowrie, op. tit., p. 258.
the publisher.
Chapter 6
14. Journals, pp. 94-95.
15. I • i ••' op. at., p. 224. 1. Ch. V. p. 73
16. \omnah, p. 557. 2. Fear <W Trembling, pp.
17. lb,d., pp. 96-102. 55-56.
 NOIfS 161
3. Ibid., p. 82. 17. Postscript, p. 440.
4. Stages, p. 188. 18. Ibid., p. 73.
5. lb,d.. p. 189. 19. Ibid., p. 550.
6. Ibid., p. 205. 20. Ibid., p. 554.
7. /A/,/., p. 304.
Chapter 8
8. Ibid., p. 320.
9. Ibid., pp. 322-323. 1. Journals, pp. 156-157.
10. Ibid., p. 348. 2. p. 252.
11. Ibid., p. 360. 3. /*/</., p. 153.
12. /*.</.. p. 362. 4. Ibid., p. 152.
13. Ibid., p. 430. 5. Ibid,, p. 162.
14. Lowric, op. cit.. p. 289. 6. Ibid,, p. 163.
7. Ibid., p. xlvii.
Chapter 7 8. ««/.. pp. 245-246.
1. Journals, p. 502. 9. Ibid., p. 192.
2. TAf Concept of Dread, p. 10. Ibid., pp. 190-191.
55. 11. Ibid., pp. 207-208.
3. Journals, p. 105. 12. Ibid., p. 234.
4. The Concept of Dread, p. 13. TAe Present Age, p. 15.
92. 14. Ibid., pp. 30-31.
5. ibid., p. n o . 15. On?., pp. 42-44.
6. Philosophical Fragments, p. 16. Ibid., p. 62.
25. 17. Journals, p. 287.
7. U f * , p. 26. 18. Ibid., p. 283.
8. Postscript, p. 26. Quotations
throughout arc used hy per- Chapter 9
mission of the publisher. 1. /Wry o/ Heart, p. 115.
9. Ibid., p. 46. 2. 7'Ae Gorpc/ of Suffering, p.
10. Ibid., p. 47. 5.
11. Ibid., p. 129. 3. Purity of Heart, pp. 163-
12. Ibid., p. 63. 164.
13. Ibid., p. 189. 4. Ibid., p. 25.
14. ibid., p. 191. 5. The Goipel of Suffering, p.
15. Ibid., p. 20. 97.
16. Either/Or. Vol. II. p. 199. 6. l C ^ o / L o i / e . p . 4 1 .
162 NOTTS

7. Christian Discourses, pp. 7. / * « . , p. 467.

171-250. S. p. 471.
8. journals, pp. 216-217. 9. Attack, Upon " Christen-
9. Ibid., pp. 217-218. dom," p. 97. Quotations
10. Ibid., p. 235. throughout are used by per-
11. The Point of View. p. 5. mission of the publisher.
12. Ibid., p. 34. 10. Ibid., p. 140.
13. The Sickness Vmo Death, 11. Ibid., p. 59.
p. 247. 12. Ibid., p. 20.
14. Training in Christianity, p. 13. Ibid., pp. 30-31.
71. 14. Ibid., pp. 32-33.
15. /*/</., p. 109. 15. Ibid., p. 205.
16. Ibid., p. 144. 16. Ibid., p. 217.
17. Ibid., p. 207. 17. Ibid., pp. 287-288.
18. For Self-examination, pp. 18. David F . Swenson. Some-
87-88. thing About Kierkegaard,
p. 25. Augsburg Publishing
Chapter 10 House. 1945.
1. Journals, p. 459. 19. fournals.p. 561.
2. /#«/.. p. 460. 20. Ibid., p. 550.
3. /«</., p. 492. 21. Ibid., loc. cit.
4. Ibid., p. 493. 22. Sickness Unto Death, Dou-
5. M/rf.. p. 456. bledav Anchor edition, pp.
6. /*;</., p. 487. 133-134.
SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
 Selected Bibliography

Attack. Upon " Christendom!' tr. by Walter Lowric. Princeton

University Press, 1944.
Christian Discourses (with The Lilies of the Field and Three Dis-
courses at the Communion on Fridays), tr. by Walter Lowrie.
Oxford University Press, 1939.
The Concept of Dread, tr. by Walter Lowtie. Princeton Univer-
sity Press, 1946.
Concluding Unscientific Postscript, tr. hy David F . Swcnson and
Walter Lowrie. Princeton University Press, 1941.
Edifying Discourses, four volumes, ir. by David F . Swcnson and
Lillian Marvin Swcnson. Augsburg Publishing House, 1943-
1946.
Edifying Discourses: A Selection, cd. by Paul Holmcr. A Harper
Torchbook, Harper t* Brothers, 1958.
Either/Or; A Fragment of Life, Vol. I tr. by David F. Swcnson
and Lillian Marvin Swcnson, Vol. 11 tr. by Walter Lowrie.
Princeton University Press, 1944.
Fear and Trembling, tr. by Walter Lowric. Princeton University
Press, 1941.
Fear and Trembling and Sickness Unto Death, tr. by Walter
Lowric. A Doublcday Anchor Book, Doublcday & Co., Inc.,
1954.
For Self-examination and fudge for Yourselves! tt. by Walter
Lowrie. Princeton University Press, 1944.
165
166 SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

The Gospel of Suffering, tr. by D.ivid F. Swcnson and Lillian

Marvin Swcnson. Augsburg Publishing House, 1948.
The journals of Soren Kierkegaard, cd. and tr. by Alexander Dru.
Oxfoid University Press. 193°.
Philosophical Fragments, tr. by David F. Swcnson. Princeton Uni-
versity Press, 1936.
The Point of View for My Work^ as an Author (with Two Notes
About " The Individual " and On My Work, as an Author),
tr. by Walter Lowric. Oxford University Press. 1939.
The Present Age (wilh Two Minor i-hi. Religious Treatises),
ir. by Alexander Dru and Waller Lowric. Oxford University
Press, 1940.
Purity of Heart, tr. by Douglas V. Steerc. Harper & Brothers,
1938.
Repetition: An Essay in Experimental Psychology, tr. hy Walter
Lowric. Princeton University Press. 1941.
The Sickness Unto Death, tr. by Walter Lowric. Princeton Uni-
versity Press. 1941. (Sec also Fear and Trembling, above.)
Stages on Life's Way, tr. by Walter Lowric. Princeton University
Press. 1940.
Thoughts on Crucial Situations in Human IJfe: Three Dis-
courses on Imagined Occasions, tr. by David F. Swouon.
Augsburg Publishing House, 1941.
Training in Christianity, tr. by Walter Lowrie. Oxford University
Press, 1941; Princeton University Press, 1944.
The Worlds of Love, ir. by Lillian Marvin Swcnson. Princeton
University Press, 1946.
Walter Lowric, Kierkegaard. Oxford University Press. 1938.
INDEX
 / rider
Ahraham. 71,76. 78-81. 104
Adam, 70, 95
Adlcr, A. P.. 122
Aesthetic, 24, 54-57, 62, 64. 65.
69-72, 74-75. 81. 82, 84. 85,
103, 108, HI
Afham, William (p»eud.). 85
Andcncn. Hans Christian. 35
Anger, Pauor, 15
Anii-Ctimacus (pseud.), 133
Badcr. Franz, 29
Berlin. 48-52. 54. 71-72. 75. 127
llncscn. Emil. 39. 47, 48, 71-72,
153-154
Bookbinder. Hilarius (pseud.),
84-X5
Borgetidydikolc. 14 Ifc, 31
Byron, George Gordon, Lord,
65
Camus, Albeit, II
Christ, 17.33. 34. 83, 98-99,101.
105. 123. 134-137. 147-148
Christendom, 132-135, 147-150
Christian Vlll, 120-121. 129
Christian Discourses, 124, 126
Christianity, 11. 21, 34. 41. 55,
66, 83. 91. 9 M 0 6 , 121. 126,
131-13S, 141-151
Climacm. Johannes (pseud.),
13. S3. 93. 102
Concept of Dread. The. 28. 83,
93-96, 104, 107
Concluding Unscientific Post-
script to the Philoiophital
Fragments. 81, 84, 91, 92, 93.
96-106, 114, 123, 134
Constantius. Comtaniinc
(pieud.), 72. 73, 75. 76, 82
Copenhagen, 12. 14, 16. 19. 20.
35, 37. 42, 44. 47. 50-51. 54.
62. 70, 72, 107-113, 144
Corsair. The. 107-116. 121. 123
Denmark. I I . 27. 62. 100. 107-
114. 120. 121. 129, 142, 144-
147
170 MUX
Despair. 76, 103, 132
" Diapsalmata," 58-«>, 68
'* Diary of iKe Seducer." 62-64.
71,108
Don Juan. 24, 60-63, 103
Dread. 23. 93-96, 102-103, 125
Dru, Alexander, 21
Edifying Discourse! in Various
Spints, 123-124
Either/Or, 14, 51. 54 71, 82.
85, 91. 114. 131
Ercmita, Victor (pseud.), 55-
57, 62, 107
Ethical, 69-70, 75, 78, 81. 84,
89-90.103-104,119-120.132
Eve, 70. 95
Existential (existing), 57, 69-
70,89,93,95,98,100-106,116,
119
Faith. 76-83, 96, 102, 106. 123,
130. 132,141
Fathcriand, The. 108, 109, 146
Faust. 24, 61
Fear and Trembling, 71, 73. 75,
76-82, 104, 132
Fibigcr, Frokcn, 153
For Self-examination, 132, 136,
137
France, 113
Frederick VII, 129
Germany, 100, 112. 129
Gillcleie, 21. 24
QWlIlf Hcnricite, 48
Goethe. Johann Wolfgang von,
60
Guldschmidt, Meyer, 107-H4
Gospel of Suffering. The. 124
-Oudty/Noi Goihy.- 72, 82-
90. 108
Hegel. Q. W. F„ 100. 144
Hcibcrg. J . L , 27, 29
Hen*. Hcnnk, 27
Infinite resignation. 76-79. 82-
83
Intiam. The. 146,151, 155
" In Vino Veritasr 85. 90
Isaac. 66, 73, 76, 78, 80. 81
Italy, 112
Job. 73, 75-76. 104, 105
Journals of Soren Kierkegaard,
The. 16, 23-26, 27-35, 37-W,
42, 49, 50, 53, 72. 109-112,
115. 117. 127, 129, 138. 140.
HI, 143
judas Iscariot. 78, 114, 136-137.
148
Judge for Your selves!. 137,139
Judge William (pseud.). 56,
64-70. 85. 90. 103, 113
Jutland. 12, 42
KalthorT, R V , 34
Kierkegaard, Anne Lund, 12,
17
 INDEX
Kierkegaard, Michael Pcdcr-
*cn. 12-14, 17. 19-23, 30, 32,
35. 127
Kierkegaard, Pcicr Christian,
19. 20, 22, 47-49, 51, 92, 127,
153. 154
Levin, Israel, 92
Literary Review, A. 109
Love (Christian). 80. 123. 125-
126. 142
Love (romantic), 65-68,77. 86-
87. 140
Lund. Henrietta 13, 35, 48, 153
Lund, Hcnrik. 139.152
Lund, Hcnrik, |r., 153, 155
Mature, 33
Martcnscn, Hans, 31, 144-146
Mary, ihe Virgin, 78, 79
Maihitwn. Profcisor, 15-16
Mollcr, P. L.. 108. 112-114
Mollcr. Paul Martin. 27. 28,31-
32, 64, 108
Mozart, Wolfgang Amadcus,
60,61
Mynster, Jacob Peter, 52, 137-
138,139. 143-146
Nielsen, Michael, 15, 16
Nielsen, Rasmus, 32
Norway, 113
Olsen, Etatsraad, 43, 47, 138
Olsen, Regina, 28,37-53,71-73,
171
74,77, 84, 103, 128, 138, 140-
141, 153
Paradox. 18. 78, 80, 101-102.
105. 144-145
Paul, ihe apostle, 151
Philosophical Fragments, 83,
93,96-97, 133
Point of View for My Worb^
as an Author, 130-131
Present Age, The. 116-120
Purity of Heart. 124-125
" Quidam's Diary." 41, 86-90
Repetition, 71-73, 75. 76, 82
Rome, 61, 119
Rordam, Bolctic, 37-38
Schelling, P. W . U 48, 51
Schlegel, Fritz, 51-53, 72. 74.
77.128, 138
Sch les wig-Hoist ein, 129
Seeland, 20-21
Sibbcrn. F . C-, 28, 36. 52, 140
Sickness Unto Death. The, 132,
133, 155
Silentio, Johannes dc (pseud.),
76-82
Socrates, 28, 53,115
Stages on Ufe's Way. 71, 72,
75,84-90.91, 108
Subjectivity, 57, 102
Taciturnus, Frater (pseud.),
85-86, 89, 109
172 INDtlX

Three Diicouriet on Imagined Two Minor Ethico-Religious

Occasions. 91,123
Training in Christianity. 132-
136
Two Discourses at the Com-
munion on Fridays. 53, 138
Two Edifying Discourses. 140
Treatises. 122
Wandering Jew, 24
Welding, Dean, 15
Work} of Love. 124-127, 152