Soren Kierkegaard

plete with a Bible and collections of sermons, but just as he is provided with
the necessary paraphernalia, everything disappears and he finds himself at the
entrance to a garden surrounded by a high wall with an iron gate. A liveried
footman appears and lets him into the garden. “High up on a terrace that
lay some distance away, there was a solitary building, half modern villa, half
monastery. The surroundings had the appearance of a lovely place in the
country, seen on a clear, moonlit evening. The building itself was brightly
illuminated from within. Through the windows I could clearly see the form
of a man moving quickly from one place to another, like someone who has
something to do.” In this description we easily recognize Kierkegaard’s
house by Sortedam Lake. The pretty garden is depicted as a real labyrinth:
“The path bent and twisted and turned so sinuously that it took a while
before we reached the end.” Might this be a metaphorical depiction of the
convoluted and serpentine canon of Kierkegaard’s works? It certainly seems
so. And indeed, as Martensen makes his way up to the house, he remarks to
himself, “acurious style,a complex,fantasticarrangement.”“Scattered about
were the leafy but exceedingly varied crowns of tall trees looming above
the bushes and smaller plants, their trunks covered with ivy and wild vines.
Countless little patches of light played across the slender branches, and the
dewglistened onthe fresh grass. Everythingwas teeming,lush with blossoms
and with scents; it was the most luxuriant vegetation I have ever seen.”
Our terrified main character mounts a spiral staircase and enters a brightly
lit room where a librarian confronts him with “two elegant bookcases,
placed on either side of the door”—just as in Kierkegaard’s apartment—
and Martensen now had to choose between Kierkegaard’s works, on the
one side, and Mynster’s, on the other. “In the collection on the left can be
foundanumberofedifyingdiscoursesaswellassomepenitentialandLenten
sermons, which in my view are very Christian, but they are absolutely sub-
jective,” the librarian informs him. “I attribute no importance to the au-
thor’s name; they aremore or less anonymous.” On the rightthere are some
lyrical sermons of the opposite type, inasmuch as they have an “objective-
theological-ecclesiastical character that has made them very beloved by the
congregation.” “Your Reverence,” the librarian exclaims, “please choose,
eitherthe bookcase on the leftorthe bookcase on the right.” Predictably
enough, Martensen chooses the bookcase on the right, which is subdivided
into sectionscontaining ancient and modernliterature, and whenthe librar-
ianpullsoutalittle“funeraloration”thathasattractedattentionbothamong
the living and the dead, Martensen sees his own name on the title page!
Now he must compose his sermon, and the librarian promises him that
the congregation will appear as soon as he is finished and pulls on the bell
rope. Martensen is just about to thank the librarian, when all the lights are