It is well-known that art emerges from spiritual crises, just as the owl of
Minerva only takes flight at close of day. “To be in perfect physical and
psychic health and lead a true life of the spirit—no one is capable of it, for
in that case he would be carried away by an immediate sense of well-being,”
Kierkegaard noted in 1849, with his characteristically shocking objectivity.
There was no danger that the man who made this observation would him-
self be carried off by any immediate sense of well-being. He was already
more spirit than flesh. Nevertheless, one cannot avoid the flesh as the vessel
of the spirit, and neither can one avoid the question of the extent to which
Kierkegaard had a privilegedpsychosomaticaccess to his artistic talents.
And this question can best be answered by taking a little detour to exam-
ine someone with a very singular fate.
Adolph Peter Adler
On June 29, 1843, Søren Aabye wrote a letter to Peter Christian at his
parish down in Sorø. Most of the letter is inconsequential but then there is
a little postscript: “You know that there is in town a Magister Adler, who
became a pastor on Bornholm, a zealous Hegelian. He has come over here,
wants to publish some sermons in which he probably will make a move in
the direction of orthodoxy. He is a bright fellow, quite experienced in
many of life’s grammatical cases, but at the moment a bit overwrought. It
is nonetheless always possible, however, that this is a phenomenon worth
keeping an eye on.”
The phenomenon of Adler, Adolph Peter Adler, was indeed very well
worth keeping an eye on. He had arrived in Copenhagen ten days earlier
on the steamerHarlequinand had looked up Kierkegaard in order to present
him with a copy ofSome Sermons, just off the printing press. The book was
covered with a lovely dust jacket of shiny green paper, and on the inside
cover Adler had written in his most elegant handwriting—albeit with a
single error—“Mr. Magister Kirkegaard. In friendship, A. Adler.”
The two men sitting in Kierkegaard’s apartment knew each other from
the Borgerdyd School, where they had attended the same classes for a num-
ber of years. This probably also explains why they were on familiar terms
and could discuss family matters. Like Kierkegaard, Adler was also the son
of a well-to-do businessman who was sufficiently successful that by 1815
he could style himself a “merchant,” and that was something in those days.
After passing his university entrance examinations Adler enrolled as a theol-
ogy student in 1832, completing his education in 1836 with a grade of
laudabilis. The next year he embarked on a foreign tour that brought him