Soren Kierkegaard

saying more than precisely whathehas been sent to say, in accordance with
the specific spiritual gifts that have been laid down in his soul. Bishop Myn-
ster always observed this golden mean, and if it were followed by everyone,
a great many untrue and distorted words about the heights and depths of
the Christian life—about dying away from the world, for example, some-
thing this speaker is acquainted with only by way of the imagination—
would be avoided, and indeed, many edifying discourses and books would
remain unwritten.” If one wishes to pass judgment on a man like Mynster,
“what is required is not only something different from and greater than
Dr. S. Kierkegaard’s slovenly article inFædrelandet, but also something dif-
ferent from and greater than the whole of that long-winded body of Kier-
kegaardian literature.” Here Martensen is quoting himself; in fact, he is even
quoting himself quoting himself. For as early as hisDogmatic Information
from 1850, Martensen had rather arrogantly summed up his familiarity with
Kierkegaard’s work: “[My] acquaintance with that long-winded body of
literature is, as I have mentioned, quite scanty and fragmentary.”
Martensen then turned to the attac kon Mynster’s “life and character”
and quite understandably expressed amazement that Kierkegaard could have
accused Mynster—“one of the hardest-working men in Denmark”—of
having been “pleasure-mad.” At this point, Martensen came close to losing
the sober-mindedness that Peter Christian Kierkegaard had attributed to
him in such great measure: “Truly, this mask, which he removed inFædre-
landet, will surely be long remembered in the history of our public morals
and will add to S. Kierkegaard’s renown. But the following observation
seems obvious: Might not things reach the point that Dr.S. Kierkegaard
himself will finally become a mask, wandering among us.... Ordoes
Dr.S. Kierkegaard really think that we should continue to assume that he
isseriousin what he continually lectures us about, that the truth must be
expressed in ‘existence?’” Despite his merely fragmentary acquaintance with
Kierkegaard’s writings, Martensen had nonetheless grasped several points—
and problems—of decisive significance. “I do not know,” Martensen con-
tinued, “how he can justify this masquerade to himself. For, after all, in his
relations with people, both with the living and the dead, a knight of faith
(and Dr.S. Kierkegaard has often given the appearance of being one) ought
to endeavor to comport himself in a chivalrous manner. I have, however,
no doubt whatever that he will be able to justify his actions to his conscience
by appealing to the morality of some sort of higher genius, perhaps even by
appealing to some sort of religious requirement that demands that every
other consideration give way, thus providing him with a criterion—ele-
vated far above the ordinary—by which his actions are to be judged.” This
is followed by an unctuously unkind cut: “This much is certain, that with