Soren Kierkegaard

Herodotus in Friedrich Lange’s German translation,The Histories of Herodo-
tus, while Diogenes Laertius’ work had been translated into Danish by
Børge Riisbrigh, who entitled itDiogenes Laertius’ Philosophical History; or,
The Lives, Opinions, and Clever Sayings of Renowned Philosophers, in Ten Books.
Both translations appeared in Berlin and Copenhagen, respectively, in 1812,
the year in which Kierkegaard had been conceived. If Kierkegaard’s account
of Periander is compared with the classical originals, Diogenes Laertius and
Herodotus, it is striking how closely he follows them, sometimes citing the
translations word for word or providing his own translations, which of
course take on the Kierkegaardian flavor, the birthmark of his style. None-
theless, the piece is primarily a compact paraphrase; it is as if Kierkegaard
had composed his manuscript with his volume of Diogenes Laertius open
on his left-hand side and Herodotus on his right. If we ignore a few words
of wisdom taken from the French archbishop Fe ́nelon and worked into the
piece, it contains nothing of importance that is not also found in one of
the original classical texts. This might look like literary forgery, but the
explanation lies ready at hand: In the story of Periander, Kierkegaardrecog-
nizedhis own story and had the strange realization that it was not he who
was to interpret the text, but the reverse, it was the text that was to interpret
him. Thus he dated the text May 5, his birthday. He wanted to emphasize
that it was as if he had been born—archetypically and unbidden—as a part
of the story.
Against the background of Quidam’s misery-filled love life, the six in-
serted pieces, individually and collectively, tell us that the crisis must be
traced back to the father, who because ofhisguilt ruined the son’s inno-
cence, thereby depriving him of the immediacy that is the precondition of
natural love. Even the title “‘Guilty?’/‘Not Guilty?’ ” is thus split between
two characters, a father who was guilty and a son who was not.
“In a novella titled ‘The Mysterious Family,’ ” an 1843 journal entry
reads, “I could perhaps reproduce the tragedy of my childhood: the terrify-
ing, secret explanation of the religious that was granted me in a fearful
intimation, which the powers of my imagination then hammered into
shape—my offense at the religious. It would begin in a thoroughly patriar-
chal-idyllic fashion, so that no one would suspect anything before that word
suddenly resounded, providing a terrifying explanation of everything.”
Kierkegaard never wrote such a novella. Instead, he wrote the six inserted
pieces, arranged them within the story of Quidam’s engagement, had Frater
Taciturnus put his name on the work, sank the whole business to the bot-
tom of Søborg Lake, and finally, had Hilarius Bookbinder assume the task
of publishing it.