date, first in Latin, then in Danish, on the New Testament. From the stand-
point of Romans 1:1–13, he asked about the epistle’s theological and
historical background and consequences: What was the occasion for Paul’s
journey to Rome? Did the Roman Christians consist of former pagans or
of Jews? Which Romans are mentioned in the letter? What are the contents
of the first seven verses? Why is the opening of this letter different from the
openings of Paul’s other letters? Had Paul previously been in Ephesus? What
was the relation of the bishop of Rome and the Roman congregation to
the rest of the Christian world? What did Tertullian and Irenaeus have to
say about it? What is the significance of the apostolic tradition? Which
bishops enjoyed special respect? What does the title of patriarch signify?
Was the bishop of Rome subordinate to the emperor? And so on, and so
on, until it was over and Kierkegaard could rise from the examination table
as a theology graduate with the grade oflaudabilis. Of the sixty-three candi-
dates for the theological degree that semester, Kierkegaard turned in the
fourth best performance on the written examination, surpassed only by
Christens, Wad, and Warburg, whose answers, according to the examiners,
“contained a greater measure of specifically theological material.” On the
other hand, Kierkegaard’s answers testified to “far greater maturity and de-
velopment of thought than any of the others.” “Praise and thanks be to
God,” Peter Christian wrote in his diary when he learned of the happy
event. And after months of silence Søren Aabye made a metaphorical com-
ment in his journal: “I am always accused of using lengthy parenthetical
phrases. Studying for my examinations is the longest parenthesis I have ever
experienced.”
Sometime after Kierkegaard’s examinations, Peter Stilling, a university
student, sought out a man named Brøchner, who had served as Kierke-
gaard’s tutor. Stilling reckoned that he could complete his philosophy stud-
ies in a year and a half. After all, Stilling said, Kierkegaard had not taken
any more time than that. “Ah, yes,” said old Brøchner, who did not exactly
excel in courtesy, “don’t fool yourself! Søren Kierkegaard was something
else; he could do everything!”
A Dandy on a Pilgrimage
The long parentheses were over, and Aunt Else’s invitation presented a
welcome opportunity to combine diversion with a pilgrimage to Sædding.
So the twenty-seven-year-old theology graduate departed from Copen-
hagen early on the morning of Saturday, July 18, 1840. Ordinarily, the