Our relationship is not the tender and trusting embrace of understanding, not one of attraction; it is the repulsion of mis- understanding. There is actually nothing at all in my relation- ship with her; it is purely intellectual, which for a young girl is naturally nothing at all. The method I employ has nevertheless its extraordinary conveniences. A person who plays the gal- lant arouses suspicions and stirs up resistance to himself; Iam exempt from all that. 1am not being watched; on the contrary, Tam marked rather as a dependable man fit to watch over the young girl. The method has only one defect, which is that it is slow, but for that reason it can be used successfully against in- dividuals only when the interesting is to be gained.
What a reinvigorating power a young girl has—not the freshness of the morning air, not the sighing of the wind, not the coolness of the sea, not the fragrance of wine, its aroma— nothing in the world has this reinvigorating power.
I hope that soon I shall have brought her to the point where she hates me. I have assumed completely the character of a confirmed bachelor. I talk about nothing else than sitting com- fortably, lying at ease, having a trusty servant, a friend with 321 322 352 Either/Or, I good footing so that I can rely on him when we walk arm in arm. Now, if I can persuade the aunt to forsake her agricultural observations, I can lead her in this direction in order to have a more direct occasion for irony. One may laugh at a bachelor, indeed, have little pity for him; but a young man who (al- though not devoid of intelligence) by such behavior outrages a young girl—all the significance of her sex, its beauty and its poetry, is annihilated.
In this way the days go by. I see her but do not speak with her; I speak with the aunt in her presence. Occasionally at night, it may cross my mind to pour out my love. Then, wrapped in my cape, with my hat pulled down over my eyes, I go and walk outside her windows. Her bedroom faces the courtyard but is visible from the street, since the place is on a corner. Sometimes she stands at the window for a moment, or she opens it and looks up at the stars, unseen by all but the one by whom she would least of all think to be noticed. In these nocturnal hours, I walk around like a ghost; like a ghost I in- habit the place where her dwelling is. Then I forget every- thing, have no plans, no reckonings, cast understanding over- board, expand and fortify my chest with deep sighs, a motion I need in order not to suffer from my systematic conduct. Others are virtuous by day, sin at night; 1am dissimulation by day—at night I am sheer desire. If she saw me here, if she could look into my soul—if.
If this girl is willing to understand herself, she must admit that [ am a man for her. She is too intense, too deeply moved, to be happy in marriage; it would be too meager for her to let herself fall for an outright seducer; when she falls for me, she will rescue the interesting out of the shipwreck. In relation to me, she must, as the philosophers say with a play on words: zu Grunde gehn [fall to the ground].
She really is weary of listening to Edward. Just as always, when cramped limits are set for the interesting, one discovers all the more. Sometimes she listens to my conversation with the aunt. When I notice it, far off on the horizon there comes a flashing intimation from a quite different world, to the aston- ishment of the aunt as well as of Cordelia. The aunt sees the The Seducer’s Diary 353 lightning but hears nothing; Cordelia hears the voice but sees nothing. But at the same moment everything is in its quiet or- der; the conversation between the aunt and me proceeds in its uniform way, like post horses in the stillness of the night; the sad hum of the samovar accompanies it. At such moments, it can sometimes be uncomfortable in the drawing room, espe- cially for Cordelia. She has no one she can talk with or listen to. If she turns to Edward, she runs the risk that he will do something stupid in his bashfulness; if she turns to the other side, toward the aunt and me, the assurance dominant here, the monotonous hammer stroke of the rhythmical conversa- tion, produces the most disagreeable contrast with Edward’s lack of assurance. I can well understand that it must seem to Cordelia as if the aunt were bewitched, so perfectly does she move to the tempo of my rhythm. She cannot participate in this conversation either, because one of the means I have also used to outrage her is that I allow myself to treat her just like a child. It is not as if I for that reason would allow myself any liberties whatever with her, far from it. I well know the upset- ting effects such things can have, and the point is that her womanliness must be able to rise up pure and beautiful again. Because of my intimate relationship with the aunt, it is easy for me to treat her like a child who has no understanding of the world. Her womanliness is not insulted thereby but merely neutralized, for the fact that she does not know market prices cannot insult her womanliness, but the supposition that this is the ultimate in life can certainly be revolting to her. With my powerful assistance on this score, the aunt is outdoing herself. She has become almost fanatic—something she can thank me for. The only thing about me that she cannot stand is that I have no position. Now I have adopted the habit of saying whenever a vacancy in some office is mentioned: ‘“There is a position for me,” and thereupon discuss it very gravely with her. Cordelia always perceives the irony, which is precisely what I want.
Poor Edward! It is a shame that he is not called Fritz.”” Every time I ponder my relationship with him, I always think of Fritz in The Bride.” Moreover, like his prototype, Edward is 323 I 324 354 Either/Or, I a corporal in the civic militia. To be honest, Edward is also rather boring. He is doing it all wrong, always arrives so for- mal and spruced up. Out of friendship for him, unter uns gesagt {just between us], I come visiting dressed as negligently as possible. Poor Edward! The one thing that almost makes me feel bad is that he is so infinitely obliged to me that he hardly knows how he will thank me. For me to be thanked for it— that is too much.
Why can’t you just be nice and quiet? What have you done all morning but shake my awnings, tug at my window street- mirror and the cord on it, play with the bellpull wire from the fourth floor, push against the windowpanes—in short, pro- claim your existence in every way as if you wanted to beckon me out to you? Yes, the weather is fine enough, but I have no inclination; let me stay home. ”—You playful, exuberant zephyrs, you happy lads, go by yourselves; have your fun as always with the young girls. Yes, I know, no one knows how to embrace a young girl as seductively as you. It is futile for her to try to wriggle away from you; she cannot extricate herself from your snares—nor does she wish to, for you cool and re- fresh and do not agitate. Go your own way! Leave me out of it. But then you think you have no enjoyment in it; you are not doing it for your own sake. Well, then, I shall go along with you, but on two conditions. —Number one. On Kongens Nytorv there lives a young girl; she is very lovely but also has the effrontery to be unwilling to love me—yes, what is worse, she loves someone else, and it has gone so far that they go walking together arm in arm. I know he goes to fetch her at one o’clock. Now promise me that the strongest winds among you will remain hidden somewhere nearby until the moment he comes through the street door with her. The very moment he is about to turn down Store Kongensgade, this detachment will rush out and in the most courteous way take the hat off his head and carry it at a steady speed exactly one yard ahead of him—not any faster, for then it is conceivable that he would go home. He continually expects to grab it the next second; he does not even let go of her arm. In that manner you will lead The Seducer’s Diary 355 him and her through Store Kongensgade along the wall to Nerreport, to Haibroplads. —How long will that take? I think just about a half hour. Exactly at half past one, | shall approach from Mstergade. Now, when the detachment has led the lov- ers out into the middle of the square, a powerful attack will be made on them in which you will also snatch off her hat, di- shevel her curls, carry off her shawl, while all this time his hat is jubilantly rising aloft higher and higher. In short, you will produce such a confusion that not only I but the very honored public will burst into roars of laughter, the dogs will begin to bark, the tower watchman to toll. You will contrive to have her hat soar over to me, who will be the lucky fellow who hands it over to her. —Number two. The unit that accompa- nies me will obey my every suggestion, keep within the bounds of propriety, insult no pretty girl, take no more liber- ties than will allow her childlike soul, during the entire joke, to preserve its delight, her lips their smile, her eyes their calm- ness, and her heart to remain without anxiety. If one of you dares to act in any other way, may your name be cursed. — And now be off to life and gladness, to youth and beauty. Show me what I so often have seen, what I never grow weary of seeing; show me a beautiful young girl and unfurl her beauty to me in such a way that she herself becomes even more beautiful; examine her in such a way that she finds joy in the examination! —I choose Bredgade, but remember, I have at my disposal only the time until half past one.— There comes a young girl, all starched and dressed up—to be sure, it is Sunday today. —Cool her offa bit, fan her, stroke her with gentle breezes, embrace her with your innocent touch! What delicate reddening of her cheeks I detect! Her lips become more vividly colored; her bosom rises. —Is it not true, my girl, that it is indescribable, that it is blissful pleasure to breathe this fresh air? The little collar flutters like a leaf. How healthy and full her breathing. Her pace slackens, she is almost carried along by the gentle breeze—like a cloud, like a dream. —Blow a little harder, in longer drafts! —She pulls herself together, draws her arms closer to her bosom, which she covers more carefully lest a puff of wind be too indiscreet 325 I 326 356 Either/Or, I and sneak in agilely and coolly under this light covering. — Her color rises, her cheeks become full, her eyes clearer, her step more rhythmic. All opposition enhances a person’s beauty. Every young girl ought to fall in love with a zephyr, for no man knows how to heighten her beauty the way it does when it skirmishes with her. —Her body leans forward a bit; she is looking down at the toes of her shoes. —Stop for a while! You are blowing too hard, and her body hunches up and loses its beautiful slimness. —Cool her off a little! —Isn’t it refreshing, my girl, when you are warm and then feel these cooling shivers? You could fling out your arms in gratitude, in joy over existence. —She turns sideways—now, quickly, a powerful puff so that I can have a hint of the beauty of her form. —A bit stronger so that the folds cling more closely. — It is too much! Her bearing becomes ungraceful; her light foot- step is thrown off. She turns around again. —Blow, now, let her prove herself! —That is enough, that is too much: one of her curls has tumbled down. —Control yourselves, please! — There comes a whole regiment marching: Die eine ist verliebt gar sehr; Die andre ware es gerne [The one is very much in love; The other would very much like to be].®° Yes, it is undeniably a bad employment in life to go walking with a prospective brother-in-law on his left arm. For a girl, it is just about the same as it is for a man to be a supplementary clerk. —But the supplementary clerk can advance; moreover, he has his place in the office, is present on special occasions— this is not the sister-in-law’s fate. But then in compensation her advancement is not so slow—when she advances and is moved into another office. —Blow a little harder now! If you have something firm to hold onto, you can offer resistance all right. —The center presses forward vigorously; the wings are unable to follow. —He stands firmly enough. The wind can- not budge him; he is too heavy for that—but also too heavy for the wings to be able to lift him from the earth. He charges ahead to show—that he is a heavy body. But the more un- The Seducer’s Diary 357 moved he remains, the more the girls suffer from it. —My beautiful ladies, may I not be of service with some good ad- vice: Leave the prospective husband and brother-in-law out of it; ®'try to walk all alone, and you will have much more enjoy- ment out of it. —Blow more gently now, please! —How they toss about in the waves of wind; now they are performing dance steps sideways down the street—can any dance music evoke a livelier cheerfulness? And yet the wind does not ex- haust them; it strengthens. —Now, side by side, they sweep along down the street in full sail—can any waltz sweep a young girl along more seductively, and yet the wind is not tir- ing but sustaining. Now they turn around and face the hus- band and brother-in-law. —Isn’t it true that a little resistance is pleasant? You willingly struggle in order to come into pos- session of what you love, and very likely you will attain what you are fighting for. There is a higher Governance that comes to the aid of love; that is why the man has the wind in his favor. —Did I not organize it right: if you have the wind on your own back, you can easily rush past the beloved, but when it is against you, you are pleasantly stimulated; then you fly to the beloved’s side, and the puffing of the wind makes you health- ier, more tempting, more seductive, and the puffing of the wind cools the fruit of your lips, which is enjoyed best when cold, because it is so hot, just as champagne inflames when it almost chills. —How they laugh and talk—and the wind car- ries the words away; is there really anything to talk about? — And they laugh again and lean against the wind and hold on to their hats and watch their feet. —Better stop now, lest the young girls become impatient and angry with us or afraid of us!
That’s right, resolutely and powerfully, the right foot be- fore the left. —How boldly and saucily she looks around at the world. —If I am seeing right, she is indeed holding on to the person’s arm and therefore is engaged. Let me see what pres- ent you received on life’s Christmas tree, my child. —Ah, yes! He really seems to be a very solid fiancé. So she is in the first stage of the engagement; she loves him—maybe so, but her love, broad and copious, nevertheless flutters loosely about I 327 328 358 Either/Or, I him. She still possesses the cloak of love that can cover a mul- titude.®? —Blow a little harder! —Well, if you walk so fast, it is no wonder that the ribbons on your hat stretch against the wind, making it look as if these, like wings, were carrying this light creature—and her love—and it, too, follows like a fairy veil the wind plays with. Yes, when love is looked at in this way, it seems so copious, but when onc is to be dressed in it, when the veil is to be sewed into a housedress—then there is not material for many puffs.°> —Good heavens! If you have the courage to risk a step decisive for your whole life, should you not have the heart to go straight against the wind? Who doubts it? Not I—but no temper tantrum, my little miss, no temper tantrum. Time is a hard disciplinarian, and the wind is not so bad either. —Tease her a little! —What happened to the handkerchief? All right, you have it again. There went one of the ribbons from your hat. —It is really very embarrassing for the prospective one who is present. —There comes a girl friend you must greet. It is the first time she has seen you as a fiancée; of course, it is to make an appearance as a fiancée that you are here on Bredgade and intend to go out on Langelinie. As far as I know, it is the custom for the newlyweds to go to church the first Sunday after the wedding; the newly engaged, however, walk on Langelinie. Well, generally an engagement does have much in common with Langelinie. —Watch out, now, the wind is taking your hat. Hang on to it, bend your head down. —It is really too bad that you did not manage to greet your girl friend at all, did not gain the composure to greet her with the superior air an engaged girl is supposed to assume before the not-engaged. —Blow more gently now! — Good days are coming now.
How she clings to her beloved; now she is far enough ahead of him to turn her head and look up at him and rejoice in him, her wealth, her good fortune, her hope, her future. —O my girl, you make too much of him. —Or does he not have me and the wind to thank that he looks.so vigorous? And do you yourself not have me and the soft breezes, which now healed you and made you cast your pain into oblivion, to thank that The Seducer’s Diary 359 you yourself look so exuberant, so full of longing and antici- pation?
I do not want a student Who lies and reads at night, But I do want an officer Who goes with feathers in his hat.** One sees it in you at once, my girl; there is something in your look. —No, a student is by no means good enough for you. — But why exactly an officer? A university graduate *all through with his studies—would he not serve just as well? — But right now I can provide you with neither an officer nor a university graduate. But I can provide some tempering cool breezes. —Blow a little now! —That was fine. Toss the silk scarf back over the shoulder; walk very slowly so that your cheeks become a bit more pale, the glow of your eyes not so intense. —Just so. Yes, a little exercise, especially in such de- lightful weather as today, and then a little patience, and you will surely have your officer.
There go two who are destined for each other. What rhythm in their step, what assurance, built on mutual trust, in their whole bearing; what harmonia praestabilita [preestablished har- mony]* in all their movements, what self-sufficient solidity. They are not light and graceful in posture; they are not dancing with each other. No, there is durability about them, a boldness that awakens an infallible hope, that inspires mutual respect. I wager that their view of life is this: life is a road. And they do seem determined to walk arm in arm with each other through life’s joys and sorrows. ®’They are so harmonious that the lady has even surrendered her claim to walk on the flagstones. — But, you dear zephyrs, why are you so busy with that couple? They do not seem to be worth the attention. Is there anything in particular to look at? **—But it is half past one—off to H@i- broplads.
One would not believe it possible to plot so entirely accu- rately the history of the development of a psyche. It shows how sound Cordelia is. Truly, she is a remarkable girl. To be 330 360 Either/Or, I sure, she is quiet and modest, unassuming, but yet there is un- consciously within her an enormous claim. —This struck me today when I saw her go into her house. The little resistance that a puff of wind can give seems to arouse all the forces within her, but there nevertheless is no inner conflict. She is not an insignificant little girl who vanishes between one’s fin- gers, so frail that one is almost afraid that she will break in two when looked at, but neither is she a pretentious ornamental flower. Therefore, like a physician, I can delight in observing all the symptoms in this health record.
In my attack, Iam beginning to close in on her gradually, to shift into a more direct attack. If I were to indicate this change on my military map of the family, I would say: I have turned my chair so that I am now turned sideways toward her. I am involved with her more; I address her, elicit her response. Her soul has passion, intensity, and, without being brought to the point of oddity by vain and foolish reflections, she has a need for the unusual. My irony over the foolishness of people, my ridicule of their cowardliness, of their tepid torpidity, capti- vate her. She likes to drive the sun chariot across the arch of heaven and to come close enough to earth to scorch people a little. But she does not trust me; as yet I have prevented every approach, even in an intellectual sense. She must be strength- ened within herself before I let her find support from me. Now and then it may seem as if I were seeking to make her my con- fidante in my freemasonry, but that is only momentary. She herself must be developed within herself; she must feel the re- silience of her soul; she must come to grips with the world and lift it. In her eyes and in what she says, it is easy for me to see the progress she is making; only once have I seen a devastating wrath there. She must owe me nothing, for she must be free. Only in freedom is there love; only in freedom are there diver- sion and everlasting amusement. Although I am making arrangements so that she will sink into my arms as if by a neces- sity of nature and am striving to make her gravitate toward me, the point nevertheless is that she should not fall like a heavy body but as mind should gravitate toward mind. Al- The Seducer’s Diary 361 though she will belong to me, yet it must not be in the un- beautiful way of resting upon me as a burden. She must be nei- ther an appendage in the physical sense nor an obligation in the moral sense. Between us two, only freedom’s own game will prevail. She must be so light to me that I can carry her on my arm.
Almost too much does Cordelia preoccupy me. I am losing my balance again—not face-to-face with her when she is pres- ent, but when I am alone with her in the strictest sense. I may yearn for her, not in order to speak with her but merely to have her image float past me; when I know she has gone out, I may stealthily follow her, not to be seen but to see. The other eve- ning, we left the Baxter house together; Edward escorted her. I parted from them in the greatest haste, hurried over to an- other street where my servant was waiting for me. In no time at all, [had changed my clothes and met her again without her suspecting it. Edward was just as mute as ever. I certainly am in love, but not in the ordinary sense, and one must be ex- tremely careful about that; it always has dangerous conse- quences, and, after all, one is that way only once. But the god of love is blind, and if one is clever, he can surely be fooled. The art is to be as receptive as possible to impressions, to know what impression one is making and what impression one has of each girl. In that way, one can be in love with many girls at the same time, because one is in love in a different way with each one. To love one girl is too little; to love all is superficial- ity; to know oneself and to love as many as possible, to let one’s soul conceal all the powers of love inside itself so that each receives its specific nourishment while the consciousness nevertheless embraces the whole—that is enjoyment, that is living.
July 3 Edward really cannot complain about me. As a matter of fact, I want Cordelia to fall in love with him so that through him she will acquire a distaste for plain and simple love and thereby go beyond her own limits, but that requires in partic- 331 332 362 Either/Or, I ular that Edward not be a caricature, for that is of no help. Now, Edward is not only a good match in the bourgeois sense, which does not mean anything to her—a girl of seven- teen does not care about such things—but he has several ap- pealing personal qualities that I try to help him show in the most advantageous light. Like a lady’s maid or a decorator, I deck him out as well as the resources of the house allow—in fact, I sometimes hang a little borrowed finery on him. When we go together over there, it seems very strange to me to walk along at his side. To me it is as if he were my brother, my son, and yet he is my friend, my contemporary, my rival. He can never become dangerous to me. Hence, the higher I can ele- vate him, since he is bound to fall, the better it is, the more it awakens in Cordelia a consciousness of what she disdains, the more intense the presentiment of what she desires. I lend him a helping hand, I recommend him—in short, I do everything a friend can do for a friend. In order to set my own coldness in relief, I almost rant against Edward. I characterize him as a dreamer. Since Edward does not know how to help himself at all, I have to push him forward.