Stages on Life’s Way

by Søren Kierkegaard

  The Stages will not have as many readers as Either/Or, will barely make a ripple. That is fine; in a way it rids me of the gawking public who want to be wherever they think there is a disturbance. I prophesied this myself in the epilogue to “ ‘Guilty?’/‘Not Guilty?’ ”38

  In Postscript, Johannes Climacus corroborates the report and also explains that the lack of attention was perhaps because Stages did not have, as Either/Or had, “The Seducer’s Diary,” “for quite certainly that was read most and of course contributed especially to the sensation.”39

  Other, later estimates diverged from the contemporary estimate expressed by indifference. Thirty-two years later Georg Brandes extolled “ ‘In Vino Veritas,’ ” as well as its counterpart in Either/Or. “In the literary sense, they are surely the most excellent things Kierkegaard has written. If they had been written in one of the main European languages, they would have made their author world famous, especially since they appeared, not isolated, but as parts in a whole contrasting spirit. . . . And if one places “ ‘In Vino Veritas’ ” alongside Plato’s Symposium, to which it was ostensibly a companion piece, one must acknowledge with amazement that it sustains the comparison as well as any modern composition could. Greater praise can hardly be given.”40 Speaking of the entire volume, Hirsch declares that Stages, despite earlier lack of attention, “has become, in Denmark as well as in Germany, Kierkegaard’s most famous and influential poetic work,” even though it is still “the most difficult to understand and the most misunderstood”41 of Kierkegaard’s works. With reference to “‘Guilty?’/‘Not Guilty?’” Kierkegaard would be in some agreement: it is “the richest of all I have written, but it is difficult to understand.”42

  1 JP V 5628 (Pap. IV A 215). See “The Seducer’s Diary,” Either/Or, I, pp. 301-445, KW III (SV I 273-412).

  2 JP V 5866 (Pap. VII1 B 84).

  3 “A Possibility,” “A Leper’s Self-Contemplation,” “Solomon’s Dream,” and “Nebuchadnezzar.” See Supplement, pp. 502-03, 504-05, 511, 507-08 (Pap. IV A 65, 68, 105, 147, 110, 111, 114, 119).

  4 Kierkegaard left for Berlin on May 8, 1843, for a short but intensive period of writing. His return date is not known, but in the May 25 letter to Boesen he states that he will return soon (Kierkegaard: Letters and Documents, Letter 82, KW XXV). The printing manuscript of Repetition originally had the superscription “Berlin in May 1843” (Pap. IV B 97:3). In Søren’s letter (no. 83, June 29, 1843) to his brother Peter Christian Kierkegaard, mention is made of his return from Berlin, but no date is given.

  5 Letters, Letter 82, KW XXV.

  6 See Supplement, pp. 505-07 (Pap. IV A 107).

  7 Danish: Vrangen og Retten, literally, “the wrong and the right,” said, for example, of a piece of cloth with the reverse side out and the right side in rather than in a specifically juridical or ethical sense.

  8 Israel Salomon Levin (1810-1883), later a well-known philologist and writer, served Kierkegaard as amanuensis and proofreader for a number of years. See Johannes Hohlenberg, Sören Kierkegaard (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1954), p. 146. See also Pap. VI B 126, 127; VII1 B 81, 82; X5 B 7, 8.

  9 Pages I-CCLIV and 1-452.

  10 See Supplement, p. 568 (Pap. V B 191).

  11 See p. 85.

  12 See p. 85.

  13 See Supplement, p. 515 (Pap. V A 109).

  14 On the whole, there are more changes in the various drafts of Stages (as the Supplement indicates) than is customary in Kierkegaard’s manuscripts.

  15 Kierkegaard did not take another writing sabbatical in Berlin. He did, however, make a considerable number of excursions to areas outside Copenhagen. See JP V, note 1127.

  16 The best discussion of the relation of Stages to the earlier pseudonymous works is by Johannes Climacus in Concluding Unscientific Postscript to Philosophical Fragments, KW XII (SV VII 242-56). See also Supplement, pp. 651-53, 658, 663 (Pap. VI A 41, 78, B 41:10; X1 A 88; XI1 A 164).

  17 See Either/Or, II, p. 178, KW IV (SV II 161).

  18 See, for example, pp. 476-77.

  19 p. 398.

  20 See Hirsch, Kierkegaard Studien, I-II (1930-33; repr., Vaduz, Liechtenstein: Topos, 1978), I, p. 150 [278]; II, p. 150 [752].

  21 In form and tone, “ ‘In Vino Veritas’ ” also is a contrast to Part I of Either/Or. The participants are older and more discerning in self-knowledge, and their self-disclosure is more manifest in their speeches. Judge William in Stages writes as he did before but with deeper insight.

  22 See p. 185. On “imaginary construction [Experiment]” and “psychological,” see Fear and Trembling and Repetition, pp. xxi-xxxi, 357-62, KW VI. A variant, Tankeexperiment (a suppositive case, experiment in thought; see pp. 31-32, 403), was used by Poul M. Møller in Om populære Ideers Udvikling (1825), Efterladte Skrifter, I-III (Copenhagen: 1839-43; ASKB 1574-76), II, p. 17.

  23 JP V 5865 (Pap. VII1 B 83, n.d., 1846). See Supplement, pp. 654-55.

  24 Pap. VII2 B 235, pp. 14-15. See Supplement, pp. 656-57.

  25 SV VII [545-59].

  26 Ibid. [545].

  27 See, for example, Two Discourses at the Communion on Fridays, Without Authority, KW XVIII (SV XIII 267); On My Work as an Author, KW XXII (SV XIII 494, 500); The Point of View for My Work as an Author, KW XXII (SV XXII 517, 521, 569); JP VI 6238, 6444, 6770 (Pap. IX A 227, p. 124; X1 A 541, p. 344; X6 B 4:3, p. 15).

  28 Two Ages, p. 99, KW XIV (SV VIII 92). For a discussion of autobiography and the works, see Fear and Trembling and Repetition, pp. lx-xi, KW VI.

  29 Sponheim, Introduction, Stages on Life’s Way, tr. Walter Lowrie (New York: Schocken, 1967), p. xiv. Walter Lowrie in the Introduction by the Translator (p. 3) says, “I must acknowledge with shame that what I said about the Stages in a few pages of my book on Kierkegaard (pp. 282-5) is not only inadequate but in one respect misleading.” Yet a few pages later (p. 13) there is the very misleading line: “Quidam’s Diary is in every detail the story of S.K.’s unhappy love.” A few details like the ring note in Stages (pp. 329-30) scarcely legitimize the claim that “every detail” is autobiographical.

  30 Einleitung, Stadien auf des Lebens Weg, Sören Kierkegaard, Gesammelte Werke, Abt. 1-36 (Düsseldorf, Cologne: Diederichs Verlag, 1952-69), XV, p. xi.

  31 Berlingske Tidende, 108, May 6, 1845, col. 3-4 (ed. tr.). See The Corsair Affair and Articles Related to the Writings, pp. 274-75, n. 55, KW XIII. The review two days later in Nyt Aftenblad, 105, col. 1, repeats the rumor (ed. tr.): “The present work [Stages] . . ., to judge according to its themes and style, owes its existence to the pseudonymous or, more correctly, polyonymous author of Either/Or, Fear and Trembling, Repetition, Philosophical Fragments, The Concept of Anxiety . . ..” Thereafter, the review consists of two and one-half columns of quoted text from the end of Stages and seemingly is signed Dixi, which, however, is the last word in Stages.

  32 See Corsair Affair, pp. 22-23 (SV XIII 416-17), 156-57 (Pap. VI B 185), KW XIII. See also Supplement, pp. 646-51 (Pap. VI B 184).

  33 Corsaren, 245, May 23, 1845, col. 13 (ed. tr.). See Corsair Affair, pp. 275-76, KW XIII.

  34 See Corsair Affair, pp. 96-104, KW XIII.

  35 Fædrelandet, 2078, Dec. 27, 1845, col. 1-6. See Corsair Affair, pp. 38-46, KW XIII (SV XIII 422-31).

  36 See Corsair Affair, pp. vii-xxxiii, 38-50 (SV XIII 422-35), 96-152, 157-240, KW XIII.

  37 See Frithiof Brandt and Else Rammel, Søren Kierkegaard og Pengene (Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1935), pp. 18-19.

  38 JP V 5824 (Pap. VI A 79). See p. 653.

  39 Postscript, KW XII (SV VII 242).

  40 Georg Brandes, Søren Kierkegaard (Copenhagen: 1877), pp. 156-57 (ed. tr.).

  41 Einleitung, Stadien, Werke, XV, p. vii.

  42 JP V 5866 (Pap. VII1 B 84).

  STAGES ON LIFE’S WAY

  STUDIES BY VARIOUS PERSONS

  Compiled, Forwarded to the Press, and Published

  by

  HILARIUS BOOKBINDER

  LECTORI BENEVOLO!1 [VI 7]

 
Inasmuch as there ought to be honesty in everything, especially in the realm of truth and in the world of books, also since no distinguished professor or man of high standing should resent it if a bookbinder, instead of minding his own business, mingles unauthorized with the literati, a shameless boldness that could also prompt severe judgment on the book and possibly have the result that many, scandalized by the bookbinder, would not read the book at all—there follows hereupon the truthful history of the book.

  Several years ago a literatus well known to me sent a considerable number of books to be bound, item [also] several books in manuscript to be bound in quarto. Since it was the busy time of the year and Mr. Literatus was in no hurry about them, being always a gentle and tractable man, the books, I am ashamed to say, remained with me more than three months. And just as things go as the German proverb says: Heute roth morgen todt [Today red, tomorrow dead], and just as the preacher says: Death recognizes no status and no age,2 and just as my late wife declared: We all must take this road, [VI 8] but our Lord knows best when it is beneficial,3 and then it indeed happens with God’s help, and just as it also happens that even the best of people4 must depart from here, so in the meantime the literatus died, and his heirs, who were abroad, received the books through the probate court, and through the same court I received payment for my work.

  As a hard-working man and a good citizen who conscientiously gives everyone his due, it never occurred to me that I had not sent everything back to Mr. Literatus, and then one day I find a small package of handwritten papers. I ponder in vain who could have sent me these, what should be done with them, whether they should be bound, in short, all the thoughts that can occur to a bookbinder in a situation like this, or whether the whole thing was a mistake. Finally it dawned on my now deceased wife, a singularly faithful aid and support to me in the business, that this packet must have been lying in the big box in which Mr. Literatus’s books had come. I arrived at the same opinion, but by now so much time had elapsed, and no one had thought to ask for the return of the papers, so I thought that it all presumably had little value and let the papers lie after I had, however, stitched them together in a colored paper folder so that they would not lie around and clutter up the shop, as my late wife used to say.

  In the long winter evenings when I had nothing else to do, I sometimes picked up the book and read it for diversion. But I cannot say that there was much diversion, for I did not understand very much but had my diversion by sitting and speculating over what it might all be. And since a large portion was written in well-executed calligraphy, I now and then had my children copy a page so that they might practice penmanship by imitating the beautiful letters and flourishes. Sometimes [VI 9] they also had to read it aloud in order to practice reading script, something that inconceivably and inexplicably is utterly neglected in school instruction, and probably would long continue to be neglected were it not for the deservedly esteemed literatus Mr. I. Levin,5 who, according to the newspapers, has sought to remedy this deficiency and has taught me to understand the truth of my late wife’s words to the effect that “the reading of handwriting is necessary in the various positions in life and should never be neglected in school.” And what indeed is the use of being able to write if one cannot read what one writes, as Henrich says in the comedy: He can write German, all right, but he cannot read it.6

  My eldest son had turned ten years old when I decided last summer to have him begin more rigorous instruction. A reputable man recommended to me an especially qualified normal-school graduate and candidate in philosophy whom I knew somewhat and had heard with real edification at vespers in Vor Frelsers Church.7 Although he had not taken the examination and had entirely abandoned studying to be a pastor since he found out that he was an esthete and a poet (I think that is what he calls it), he nevertheless was well educated and gave good sermons, but above all he had a splendid pulpit voice. Our agreement was that in return for his dinner he should instruct the boy two hours daily in the most important subjects.

  It was truly fortunate for my humble household that the said normal-school graduate and candidate in philosophy became the boy’s teacher, for not only did Hans make great progress, but, as I shall now relate, I became indebted to this good man for something far more important. One day he becomes aware of the book stitched together in a colored paper folder that I had been using for my children’s instruction; he reads a little of it and thereupon asks to borrow it. I say to him [VI 10] and really mean it, “You may very well keep it, for now that the boy has a teacher who himself can show him how to write, I do not need it.” But he was too honorable, as I now perceive, to want to do that. So he borrowed it. Three days later—I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday; it was the fifth of January this year—he comes to us and wishes to speak with me. I thought he possibly wanted to borrow a little money, but no! He hands me the well-known book and says, “My dear Mr. Hilarius! You presumably were unaware of what a glorious gift and donation providence has allotted to your household in this book you so casually wanted to give away. If it comes into the right hands, a book such as this is worth its weight in gold. It is by the printing of worthwhile books such as this that one contributes to the advancement of good and beneficial learning among the children of men in these days when not only money but also faith is becoming a rarity among the people. Not only that, but you, Mr. Hilarius, who have always wished to be able to benefit your fellowmen in some other way than as a bookbinder, as well as to honor your late wife’s memory by some outstanding good deed, you to whose happy lot it has fallen to be able to do this, you will by this undertaking also be able to earn a not inconsiderable sum when the book is sold.” I was deeply moved and became even more so when he raised his voice and continued in a raised voice: As far as I am concerned, I ask nothing or as good as nothing; in consideration of the anticipated large profits, all I ask is ten rix-dollars right now and a half pint of wine for dinner on Sundays and holidays.

  So it has come to pass as the good normal-school graduate and candidate in philosophy advised me; I only wish I were as sure of the large profits as he of the ten rix-dollars, which I paid him gladly, all the more so because he made me aware that my service was greater because it was not one book I would publish but several books, probably by several authors. [VI 11] In other words, my learned friend assumes that there must have been a fraternity, a society, or an association of which that literatus had been the head or president and therefore had preserved the papers. Personally, I have no opinion on this matter.

  That a bookbinder would aspire to be an author could only arouse understandable resentment in the literary world and be instrumental in making people turn up their noses at the book, but that a bookbinder stitches together, guides through the press, and publishes a book so that he “might be able to benefit his fellowmen in some other way than as a bookbinder,” no fair-minded reader will take amiss.8

  And herewith may the book and the bookbinder and the undertaking be respectfully recommended.

  Christianshavn, January 1845.9

  Yours most respectfully,

  Hilarius Bookbinder

  “IN VINO VERITAS”10

  A RECOLLECTION

  Related

  by

  WILLIAM AFHAM11

  [VI 14] Solche Werke sind Spiegel: wenn ein Affe hinein guckt,

  kann kein Apostel heraus sehen

  [Such works are mirrors: when an ape looks in,

  no apostle can look out].

  LICHTENBERG12

  PREFACE13 [VI 15]

  What a splendid occupation to prepare a secret for oneself, how seductive to enjoy it, and yet at times how precarious to have enjoyed it, how easy for it to miscarry for one. In other words, if someone believes that a secret is transferable as a matter of course, that it can belong to the bearer, he is mistaken, for the [riddle] “Out of the eater comes something to eat”14 is valid here; but if anyone thinks that the only difficulty entailed in enjoying it is not to betray it, he is
also mistaken, for one also takes on the responsibility of not forgetting it.15 Yet it is even more disgusting to recollect incompletely and to turn one’s soul into a transit warehouse for damaged goods. In relation to others, then, let forgetting be the silken curtain that is drawn, recollection [Erindring] the vestal virgin who goes behind the curtain; behind the curtain is the forgetting again—if it is not a true recollection, for in that case the forgetting is excluded.

  The recollection must be not only accurate; it must also be happy. The bottling of the recollection must have preserved the fragrance of the experience before it is sealed. Just as grapes cannot be pressed at any time whatsoever, just as the weather at the time of pressing has great influence on the wine, so also what is experienced can neither be recollected nor be inwardly recollected at any time whatsoever or under any and all circumstances.

  To recollect [erindre] is by no means the same as to remember [huske].16 For example, one can remember very well every single detail of an event without thereby recollecting it. Remembering is only a vanishing condition. Through memory, [VI 16] the experience presents itself to receive the consecration of recollection. The distinction is already discernible in the difference between generations. The old person loses memory, which as a rule is the first faculty to be lost. Yet the old person has something poetic about him; in the popular mind he is prophetic, inspired. But recollection is indeed his best power, his consolation, which consoles him with its poetic farsightedness. Childhood, on the other hand, has memory and quickness of apprehension to a high degree but does not have recollection at all. Instead of saying, “Old age does not forget what youth apprehends,” one could perhaps say, “What the child remembers the old person recollects.” The old person’s glasses are ground for seeing close at hand. When youth wears glasses, the lens is for seeing at a distance, for it lacks the power of recollection, which is the power to distance, to place at a distance. But the happy recollection of old age, just like the happy apprehension of the child, is nature’s gracious gift, which preferentially embraces the two most helpless and yet in a certain sense happiest periods of life. But for this very reason recollection, as well as memory, is sometimes only the holder of accidental happenings.