Soren Kierkegaard

his “declaration” labels, respectively, as “the legitimate ruler of Danish liter-
ature,” “a man of learning of European stature,” and “that authoritative,
right reverend firm Kts.” And as far as is known, n never again dared to say
anything nice about Kierkegaard, whose judgment on his journalistic outlet
was harsh and merciless: “When it comes to literary criticism, theBerlingske
Tidendecan... best be compared with the paper in which a sandwich is
wrapped; you read it while you eat—indeed, I have even seen a man wipe
himself with the newspaper for want of a napkin.”
Just under a week later, on May 13, 1845, the author who had been so
outrageously and fulsomely praised sailed away on the steamshipGeiser.He
traveled via Stettin on his third and next-to-last visit to Berlin. One of his
fellow passengers was a former pharmacist, Lauritz Hagen, who was silent
and withdrawn. The next day Kierkegaard was in Berlin, where he sat in
his hotel room registering in his journals the artistic possibilities of his jour-
ney: “The only usable figure on board the steamship was a young lad...
wearing a velvet cap that was held on by a kerchief, a striped tunic over a
coat, a walking stick hanging by a cord from one of the buttons. Ingenuous,
open, on a journey, attentive to everything, naive, bashful, and yet daunt-
less. By combining him with a melancholy traveler (such as Mr. Hagen) a
mournful effect could be produced.”
On May 19 and 20, while Kierkegaard was in Berlin (where he once
again failed to make himself at home)Fædrelandetpublished a piece by a
certain “A,” titled “A Cursory Observation concerning a Detail inDon
Giovanni,” which Kierkegaard had written on the occasion of the revival of
Mozart’s immortal opera, which was performed at the Royal Theater five
times between February and May 1845. No one was permitted to forget
about Kierkegaard simply because he was not seen on the streets! He arrived
back in Copenhagen harbor on May 24 (once again on theGeiser), and five
days later Philipsen publishedEighteen Edifying Discourses, with six sections
consisting of 52, 62, 84, 59, 70, and 111 pages, respectively. Even though
the volume was a compilation of previously published discourses, it was
quite understandable that n might assume that Kierkegaard was in possession
of a “magic wand.”
It was also quite understandable that others grew envious and soon ar-
rived at a consensus to the effect that Kierkegaard had certainly been rather
hasty with all his productivity—and was thus merely a hack. “They think
I’m a hack writer. Sure, take this here, for example,” he wrote in indigna-
tion shortly after the publication ofConcluding Unscientific Postscript, which
appeared on February 27, 1846. “I am completely convinced that there is
no other Danish author who treats even the most insignificant word with
the extraordinary care that I exhibit.” Not only did he himself rewrite his