Soren Kierkegaard

of the person who is holding one b ythe arm. One encounters man ypiquant
thoughts, some of which, perhaps, are even profound. One cannot be sure
of this, because when one thinks one has espied a point (which the author
continuall ycalls a ‘pointe’) one again becomes disoriented. One grows im-
patient because the author’s exceptional brilliance, learning, and stylistic
sophistication have not been combined with an organizational abilit ythat
would permit the ideas to emerge properl yformed. Ever ything seems
dreamlike, amorphous, and ephemeral. In the hope of finding at least some
positivel yfirm ground amid all this negativit y, one leaps into a critique of
Scribe’s comedyThe First Love, but here one discovers that the author has
transformed the positive, given material into his own castle in the air. He
wants to turn a prett ylittle bagatelle into a masterpiece and attribute to it
an underlying tendency that is exactly the opposite of what Scribe claims it
to be. One hurries onward to ‘The Seducer’s Diary,’ for here the title itself
implies that this piece of work ma ybe more creative than critical. And, in
a way, these expectations are not disappointed. But one is disgusted, one is
nauseated, one is revolted, and one asks oneselfnotwhether it is possible
that a human being could be like this seducer, but whether it is possible
that an author could be the sort of individual who could take pleasure in
imagining himself to be such a character, and who could create such a char-
acter in his private thoughts. One looks at the book, and the possibilit yis
established. One closes the book and says ‘Enough! I have had enough of
Either, I will not have an yofOr.’ ”
After being exposed to these obscenities, Heiberg had had more than
enough. But he did not miss the opportunit yto rejoice over the furor and
the row that would result when the book reached the philistine public of
“prudes, battle-axes, and dought ymoralists,” all of whom—apparentl yex-
cepting Heiberg himself—“could benefit greatl yfrom it.” Heiberg could
not restrain himself, however—he started reading the second part, which
captivated him in quite a different fashion. In this part he encountered a
series of “bolts of intellectual lightning, which suddenl yclarified entire
spheres of existence,” while at the same time he found the “organizing
force” he had vainl ysought in the first part. So the work was the creation
of a “rare and highl ygifted intellect who, out of a deep well of speculation,
has drawn forth the most beautiful ethical views,” and who “laces his argu-
ment with a stream of the most piquant wit and humor.” The speculative
material was of course right up Heiberg’s alley, and he had now come to
believe that he trul ygrasped the point of the book: “The second volume is
absolute; there can be no question of an either/or here.”
It was no love fest, but for all his harshness Heiberg was more generous
with praise than was his custom. If Kierkegaard nonetheless became furious