Soren Kierkegaard

nated through and through by a brilliant, imaginative vision. Here was a
wonderful union of genius and level-headedness.” Like Kierkegaard, Mar-
tensentook noteofSchelling’s gratingdiction:“Therewas somethingpreg-
nant in his voice, and he pronounced certain words with an intonation
that was unforgettable to his listeners, for example,das unvordenkliche Sein
[German: ‘un-prethinkable being’ or ‘being from time immemorial’].”
Of course it is not unthinkable that in the intervening years Schelling
had undergone a metamorphosis into nonsensicalness, but when Kierke-
gaard gave up following his lectures the reason was simple: He himself was
otherwise engaged. As early as mid-December he had informed Boesen:
“I’m writing like mad. I have now written fourteen printed signatures. And
with that I have completed part of a treatise whichvolente deo[Latin: ‘God
willing’] I will lay before you one day.” At this point Boesen himself was
doodling away on a novella that had him stymied, so Kierkegaard’s boasting
about the fourteen signatures—which amounted to 224 pages—quite un-
derstandably piqued his curiosity: “You ask what I am working on. Answer:
It would be too complicated to tell you about it now—only this much, it
is the further development of Either/Or.” Kierkegaard demanded that
Boesen keep his mouth shut—“Anonymity is of the greatest importance to
me”—andlimitedhimselftoremarking,withrespecttothebook’stitle,that
it was “quite excellent” because it was both “titillating” and also possessed
“speculative significance.” In mid-January Boesen received yet another re-
portfromtheBerlinwritingmachine:“Iamworkinghard.Mybodycannot
endure it. So that you may see that I am the same I will tell you that I have
againwrittenalargeportionofapiece,Either/Or.Ithasnotgonesoquickly,
but this is because it is not an exposition of an argument but a purely poetic
production that makes quite particular demands that a person be in the
proper mood....Youareused to seeing my works in the making. This
time it is different. When I eventually take out my scrolls and read you
fourteen or twenty signatures, what do you think of that? ‘Courage, Anto-
nius.’ In one sense these are difficult times, and some of the sections I am
working on demand the whole of my spirit, all of my wit, wherever I can
find it.”
In the next letter Kierkegaard extended the list of his sufferings: “cold,
partialsleeplessness,nervousaffectations,disappointedexpectationswithre-
spect to Schelling, confusion of my philosophical ideas, no diversions, no
opposition to stimulate me.” And then he provided a progress report: “This
winter in Berlin will always be of great significance to me. I have accom-
plished a great deal. When you consider that I have attended three or four
hours of lectures every day, that I have had an hour’s language lesson daily,
and that I have nonetheless got so much written,... have done some read-