Edward is beside himself with indignation. He is letting his beard grow, has hung up his black suit—which tells much. He wants to speak with Cordelia, wants to describe for her all my cunning. It will be a shocking scene: Edward unshaven, di- sheveled, and speaking loudly with Cordelia. If he will only not dislodge me with his long beard. I try futilely to bring him to reason; I explain that it is the aunt who arranged the match, that Cordelia perhaps still entertains feelings for him, that I shall be willing to bow out if he can win her. '!'For a moment, he hesitates about whether he should have his beard trimmed a new way, buy a new black suit—the next moment, he heaps abuse upon me. I do everything to keep up appearances with him. However angry he is with me, I am sure he will take no step without consulting me; he does not forget what benefit he has had from me as his mentor. And why should I tear his last hope from him, why break with him? He is a good man; who knows what may happen in time.
What I have to do now is, on the one hand, to organize everything so that the engagement is broken in such a way that I thereby secure a more beautiful and significant relationship to Cordelia; on the other hand, I must utilize the time to the best of my ability to delight in the loveliness, all the lovableness, with which nature has so abundantly equipped her, delight in it, but nevertheless with the restraint and circumspection that forestall the anticipation of anything. When I have brought her to the point where she has learned what it is to love and what it is to love me, then the engagement will break like a defective mold and she will belong to me. Others become engaged when they have arrived at this point and have the good pros- pect of a boring marriage for all eternity. That is their busi- ness.
Everything is still in statu quo, but scarcely any engaged per- son can be happier than I; no miser who has found a gold coin The Seducer’s Diary 377 is happier than I. I am intoxicated with the thought that she is in my power. Pure, innocent womanliness, as transparent as the sea, and yet just as deep, with no idea of love [Kjerlighed]! But now she is going to learn what a powerful force erotic love [Elskov} is. Just like a king’s daughter who has been elevated from the dust to the throne of her forefathers, so she will be enthroned in the kingdom to which she belongs. And this will take place through me; and in learning to love, she will learn to love me; as she develops the rule, the paradigm will sequen- tially unfold, and this 1am. As she in love becomes alive to her entire meaning, she will apply this to loving me, and when she suspects that she has learned it from me, she will love me two- fold. The thought of my joy overwhelms me to such a degree that I am almost losing my senses.
Her soul is not diffused or slackened by the vague emotions of erotic love, something that keeps many young girls from ever learning to love, that is, definitely, energetically, totally. In their minds they have a vague, foggy image that is supposed to be an ideal by which the actual object is to be tested. From such incompleteness emerges a something whereby one may help oneself properly through the world. —As erotic love now awakens in her soul, I see into it, I learn to know it by listening to all the voices of erotic love in her. I make sure of the shape it has taken in her and form myself in likeness to it; and just as I already am spontaneously included in the story that love is running through in her heart, so I come again to her from the outside as deceptively as possible. After all, a girl loves only once.
Now, then, I am in legitimate possession of Cordelia and have the aunt’s consent and blessing, the congratulations of friends and relatives; surely it will last. So now the troubles of war are over and the blessings of peace begin. What foolish- ness! As if the aunt’s blessing and the friends’ congratulations were able to give me possession of Cordelia in the more pro- found sense; as if love made such a distinction between times of war and times of peace and did not instead—as long as it ex- ists—announce itself in conflict, even though the weapons are 346 378 Either/Or, I different. The difference is actually in whether the conflict is cominus [close at hand] or eminus [at a distance]. The more the conflict in a love relationship has been eminus, the more dis- tressing it is, for the hand-to-hand combat becomes all the more trifling. Hand-to-hand combat involves a handshake, a touching with the foot—something that Ovid,!'? as is known, recommends just as much as he most jealously rants against it, to say nothing of a kiss, an embrace. The person who fights eminus usually has only the eyes''? on which to depend, and yet, if he is an artist, he knows how to use this weapon with such virtuosity that he achieves almost the same result. He can let his eyes rest on a girl with a desultory tenderness that has the same effect as if he casually touched her; he can grasp her just as firmly with his eyes as if he held her locked in his arms. But it is always a mistake or a disaster if one fights eminus too long, for such fighting is always only a symbol, not the enjoy- ment. Not until one fights cominus does everything acquire its true meaning. If there is no combat in love, then it has ceased. I have almost never fought eminus, and this is why Iam now not at the end but at the beginning; I am taking out my weap- ons. I am in possession of her, that is true, that is, in the legal and bourgeois sense, but that means nothing at all to me—I have much purer concepts. She is engaged to me, that is true, but if from that I were to draw the conclusion that she loves me, it would be an illusion, for she does not love at all. am in legitimate possession of her, and yet I am not in possession of her, just as I can very well be in possession of a girl without being in legitimate possession of her.
Auf heimlich errothender Wange Leuchtet des Herzens Gliihen [On a secretly blushing cheek Shines the glow of the heart].'"4 She is sitting on the sofa by the tea table, I on a chair at her side. This position has a confidentiality and yet a dignity that distances. A great deal depends upon the position, that is, for one who has an eye for it. Love has many positions—this is the first. How royally nature has equipped this girl: her clean soft The Seducer’s Diary 379 figure, her profoundly feminine innocence, her clear eyes—all this intoxicates me. —I have greeted her. She approached me, happy as usual, yet a little embarrassed, a little uncertain— after all, the engagement must make our relationship some- what different, but how, she does not know; she took my hand, but not with the usual smile. I responded to the greeting with a slight, almost unnoticeable pressure of the hand; I was gentle and friendly, yet without being erotic. —She is sitting on the sofa by the tea table, J on a chair at her side. A transfig- uring ceremoniousness sweeps over the scene, a soft morning light. She is silent; nothing breaks in upon the stillness. My eyes glide softly over her, not desiringly—that would truly be brazen. A delicate fleeting blush, like a cloud over the meadow, fades away, heightening and fading. What does this blush signify? Is it love, is it longing, hope, fear, for is not red the color of the heart? By no means. She wonders, she really wonders—not at me, for that would be too little to offer her; she is amazed—not at herself but within herself. She is being transformed within herself. This moment craves stillness; therefore no reflection is to disturb it, no noise of passion is to disrupt it. It is as if | were not present, and yet it is my very presence that is the condition for this contemplative wonder of hers. My being is in harmony with hers. In a state such as this, a girl is adored and worshiped, just as some deities are, by si- lence.!"5 Nett is fortunate that I have my uncle’s house. If I wanted to impart to a young man a distaste for tobacco, I would take him into some smoking room or other in Regensen;'!7 if I want to impart to a young girl a distaste for being engaged, I need only to introduce her here. Just as no one but tailors fre- quents the tailors’ guildhall, so here only engaged couples come. It is an appalling company in which to become in- volved, and I cannot blame Cordelia for becoming impatient. When we are gathered en masse, I think we put ten couples on the field, besides the annexed battalions that come to the cap- ital for the great festivals. Then we engaged ones really enjoy the delights of being engaged.!!*] report with Cordelia at the assembly ground in order to give her a distaste for these amo- 347 348 380 Etther/Or, I rous tangibilities, these bunglings of lovesick workmen. 9Incessantly, all night through, one hears a sound as if some- one were going around with a fly swatter—it is the lovers’ kissing. In this house, one has an amiable absence of embar- rassment; one does not even seek the nooks and corners—no, people sit around a large round table. I, too, make a move to treat Cordelia in the same way. To that end, I really have to force myself. It would really be shocking if I allowed myself to insult her deep womanliness in this way. I would reproach myself even more for this than when I deceive her. On the whole, I can guarantee perfect esthetic treatment to any girl who entrusts herself to me—it only ends with her being de- ceived, but this, too, is part of my esthetics, for either the girl deceives the man or the man deceives the girl.?°It would cer- tainly be interesting if some literary drudge could be found to count up in fairy tales, legends, folk ballads, and myths whether a girl is more often faithless or a man.
Repent of the time Cordelia is costing me, I do not, even though she is costing me a great deal. Each meeting often re- quires long preparations. Iam experiencing with her the emer- gence of her love. I myself am almost invisibly present when I am sitting visible at her side. My relationship to her is like a dance that is supposed to be danced by two people but is danced by only one. That is, I am the other dancer, but invis- ible. She moves as in a dream, and yet she is dancing with an- other, and I am that other one who, insofar as I am visibly present, is invisible, and insofar as I am invisible, is visible. The movements require another. She bows to him; she stretches out her hand to him. She recedes; she approaches again. I take her hand; I complete her thought, which never- theless is completed within itself. She moves to the melody in her own soul; I am merely the occasion for her moving. Iam not erotic; that would only arouse her; I am flexible, supple, impersonal, almost like a mood.!?!
What do engaged people ordinarily talk about? As far as I know, they are very busy mutually weaving each other into the boring context of the respective families. No wonder the The Seducer’s Diary 381 erotic vanishes. If a person does not know how to make erotic love the absolute, in comparison with which all other events vanish, then he should never let himself become involved in loving, even if he marries ten times. Whether I have an aunt named Marianne, an uncle named Christopher, a father who is a major, etc. etc., all such public information is irrelevant to the mysteries of love. Yes, even one’s own past life is nothing. Ordinarily a young girl does not have much to tell in this re- gard; if she does, it may very well be worth the trouble to lis- ten to her—but, as a rule, not to love her.!”I for my part am not looking for stories—I certainly have enough of them; lam seeking immediacy. The eternal in erotic love is that '*in its moment individuals first come into existence for each other.
A little confidence must be awakened in her, or, more cor- rectly, a doubt must be removed. I do not exactly belong to the aggregate of lovers who out of respect love each other, out of respect marry each other, out of respect have children to- gether, but nevertheless I am well aware that erotic love, es- pecially as long as passion is not set in motion, demands of the one who is its object that he not esthetically offend against mo- rality. In this regard, erotic love has its own dialectic. For ex- ample, while my relationship with Edward is far more censur- able from the moral standpoint than my conduct toward the aunt, it will be much easier to justify the former to Cordelia than the latter. It is true that she has not said anything about it, but nevertheless I found it best to explain the necessity of my acting in that way. The cautiousness I have used flatters her pride; the secretiveness with which I handled everything cap- tures her attention. Surely it might seem that here I have al- ready betrayed too much erotic polish, so that when I am obliged later to insinuate that I have never been in love before I shall be contradicting myself, but that makes no difference. I am not afraid of contradicting myself if only she does not de- tect it and I achieve what I wish. Let it be the ambition of learned doctoral candidates to avoid every contradiction; a young girl’s life is too abundant to have no contradictions and consequently makes contradictions inevitable.
349 350 382 Either/Or, I She is proud and also has no real conception of the erotic. Although now she probably submits to me intellectually to some degree, it is conceivable that when the erotic begins to assert itself she might take it into her head to turn her pride against me. From all that I can observe, she is perplexed about woman’s real significance. Therefore it was easy to arouse her pride against Edward. But this pride was completely eccen- tric, because she had no conception of erotic love. If she ac- quires it, then she will acquire her true pride, but a remnant of that eccentric pride might easily supervene. It is then conceiv- able that she would turn against me. Although she will not re- pent of having consented to the engagement, she will never- theless readily perceive that I obtained it at a rather good price; she will see that the beginning was not made correctly from her side. If this dawns on her, she will dare to stand up to me. Good! Then I shall be convinced of how profoundly she is stirred.
Sure enough. Even from far down the street, I see this lovely little curly head leaning out of the window as far as pos- sible. It is the third day I have noticed it. —A young girl cer- tainly does not stand at the window for nothing; presumably she has her good reasons. —But I beg you for heaven’s sake not to lean so far out of the window; I wager that you are standing on the rung of a chair—I can tell from your posture. Think how terrible it would be if you fell down, not on my head, because I am keeping out of this affair until later, but on his, his, because there certainly must be a he. —No! What do I see! Way off there, my friend Hansen, the licentiate, is coming down the middle of the street. There is something unusual about his behavior. It is a rather uncustomary conveyance; if I judge rightly, it is on the wings of longing that he is coming. Could it be that he is a regular visitor to the house and I do not know it? —My pretty little miss, you disappear; I suppose you have gone to open the door to receive him. —You can just as well come back; he is not coming into the house at all. —How can it be that you know better? Well, I can assure you—he said it himself. If the carriage that passed had not made so much The Seducer’s Diary 383 noise, you yourself could have heard it. I said, just en passant: Are you going in here? To which he answered with a clear word: No. —So you may as well say good-bye, for the licen- tiate and I are going out for a walk. He is embarrassed, and embarrassed people generally are talkative. I am going to talk with him about the pastoral appointment he is seeking. — Good-bye, my pretty miss, we are on our way to the custom- house. When we arrive there, I shall say to him: What a damned nuisance—you have taken me out of my way. I am supposed to go to Vestergade.
Look, here we are again. —What constancy! She is still standing at the window. A girl like that is sure to make a man happy. —And why am I doing all this, you ask. Because I am a vile fellow who has his fun by teasing others? By no means. lam doing it out of consideration for you, my charming girl. In the first place, you have been waiting for this licentiate, longing for him, and thus he is doubly handsome when he comes. In the second place, when he comes through the door now, he will say, ‘““We damned near let the cat out of the bag when that confounded fellow was at the door as I was about to visit you. But I was smart; I inveigled him into a long chat about the appointment I am seeking; I walked him here and there and finally way out to the customhouse. I assure you that he did not notice a thing.’’ And what then?!4So you are fon- der of your licentiate than ever, for you have always thought that he had an excellent way of thinking, but that he was clever—well, now you see it for yourself. And you have me to thank for that. —But something occurs to me. Their engage- ment must not have been announced yet—otherwise I would know about it. The girl is lovely and delightful to look at, but she is young. Perhaps her discernment is not mature yet. Was it not conceivable that she would go and rashly take a most se- rious step? That must be prevented; I must speak with her. I owe it to her, for she certainly is a very charming girl. I owe it to the licentiate, for he is my friend; as far as that goes, I owe it to her because she is my friend’s intended. I owe it to the family, for certainly it is a very respectable family. 11 owe it to the whole human race, for it is a good deed. The whole hu- I 351 352 384 Either/Or, I man race! What a tremendous thought, what uplifting sport— to act in the name of the whole human race, to be in possession of a general power of attorney. —But now to Cordelia. I can always make use of mood, and the girl’s beautiful longing has really stirred me.
So now begins the first war with Cordelia, in which I retreat and thereby teach her to be victorious as she pursues me. I con- tinually fall back, and in this backward movement I teach her to know through me all the powers of erotic love, its turbulent thoughts, its passion, what longing is, and hope, and impa- tient expectancy. As I perform this set of steps before her, all this will develop correspondingly in her. It is a triumphal procession in which I am leading her, and I myself am just as much the one who dithyrambically sings praises to her victory as I am the one who shows the way. She will gain courage to believe in erotic love, to believe it is an eternal force, when she sees its dominion over me, sees my movements. She will be- lieve me, partly because I rely on my artistry, and partly be- cause at the bottom of what I am doing there is truth. If that were not the case, she would not believe me. With my every move, she becomes stronger and stronger; love is awakening in her soul; she is being enthroned in her meaning as a woman.
Until now I have not proposed [friet] to her, as it is called in the bourgeois sense; now I shall do it. I shall make her free [fri]; only in that way shall I love her. That she owes this to me, she must never suspect, for then she will lose her confidence in herself. Then when she feels free, so free that she is almost tempted to want to break with me, the second struggle will begin. Now she has power and passion, and the struggle has significance for me—let the momentary consequences be what they may. Suppose that in her pride she becomes giddy, sup- pose that she does break with me—all right!—she has her free- dom, but she will still belong to me. That the engagement should bind her is silly—I want to possess her only in her free- dom. Let her leave me—the second struggle is nevertheless be- ginning, and in this second struggle I shall be victorious as surely as it was an illusion that she was victorious in the first The Seducer’s Diary 385 one. The greater the abundance of strength she has, the more interesting for me. The first war is a war of liberation; it is a game. The second is a war of conquest; it is a life-and-death struggle.
Do I love Cordelia? Yes! Sincerely? Yes! Faithfully? Yes—in the esthetic sense, and surely this should mean something. What good would it have been if this girl had fallen into the hands of a clumsy oaf of a faithful husband? What would have become of her? Nothing. They say that it takes a bit more than honesty to make one’s way through the world. I would say that it takes a bit more than honesty to love such a girl. That more I do have—it is deceitfulness. And yet I do love her faith- fully. Strictly and abstinently, I keep watch on myself so that everything in her, the divinely rich nature in her may come to full development. I am one of the few who can do this, and she is one of the few qualified for it; so are we not suited to each other???”
Is it sinful of me not to look at the pastor but instead fasten my eyes on the beautiful embroidered handkerchief you are holding in your hand? Is it sinful of you to hold it in just that way? —There is a name in the corner. Your name is Charlotte Hahn? It is so seductive to come to know a woman’s name in such an accidental way. It is as if there were an obliging spirit who secretly introduced me to you. Or perhaps it is not acci- dental that the handkerchief is folded in such a way that I am able to see the name? —You are moved, you wipe a tear from your eye. —The handkerchief is hanging loosely once again. —It seems strange to you that I am looking at you and not at the pastor. You look at the handkerchief and notice that it has betrayed your name. It is indeed a most innocent thing; one can easily find out a girl’s name. —Why must the handkerchief suffer? Why must it be crumpled up? Why become angry with it? Why become angry with me? What is that the pastor is say- ing: “Let no one lead a person into temptation. Even the per- son who does it unknowingly bears a responsibility; he, too, has a debt to the other that he can pay off only by increased 353 354 386 Either/Or, I kindness.”” —Now he says Amen. Outside the door of the church, you will probably let the handkerchief fly loosely in the wind. —Or have you become afraid of me? What have I done? —Have I done more than you can forgive, than what you dare to remember—in order to forgive?
A double-movement!” is necessary in relation to Cordelia. If I just keep on retreating before her superior force, it would be very possible that the erotic in her would become too dis- solute and lax for the deeper womanliness to be able to hypos- tatize itself. Then, when the second struggle begins, she would be unable to offer resistance. To be sure, she sleeps her way to victory, but she is supposed to do that; on the other hand she must continually be awakened. If for one moment she thinks her victory would in turn be wrested from her, she must learn to will to hold onto it tightly. Her womanliness will be ma- tured in this conflict. I could use either conversation to inflame her or letters to cool her off, or vice versa. The latter is pref- erable in every way. I then enjoy her most extreme moments. When she has received a letter, when its sweet poison has en- tered her blood, then a word is sufficient to make her love burst forth. At the next moment, irony and hoarfrost make her doubtful, but not so much that she nevertheless does not continually feel her victory, feel it augmented by the receipt of the next letter. Nor can irony be used very well ina letter with- out running the risk that she would not understand it. Only traces of ardor can be used in a conversation. My personal presence will prevent ecstasy. If ] am present only in a letter, then she can easily cope with me; to some extent, she mistakes me for a more universal creature who dwells in her love. Then, too, in a letter one can more readily have free rein; in a letter I can throw myself at her feet in superb fashion etc.— something that would easily seem like nonsense if I did it in person, and the illusion would be lost. The contradiction in these movements will evoke and develop, strengthen and con- solidate, the erotic love in her—in one word: tempt it.
These letters, however, must not take on a strongly erotic color too soon. In the beginning, it is best that they bear a The Seducer’s Diary 387 more universal stamp, contain a single clue, remove a single doubt. Occasionally they may suggest the advantage an en- gagement has, insofar as people can be deflected by mystifica- tions. Whatever drawbacks it has otherwise, she will not lack opportunities to become aware of them. '”In my uncle’s house I have a caricature that I can always place alongside. Without my help, she cannot produce the erotic inwardness. If I deny her this and let this burlesque image plague her, then she will surely become bored with being engaged, yet without really being aware that it is I who have made her bored with it.
A little epistle today describing the state of my soul will give her a clue to her own inner state. It is the correct method, and method I do have. I have you to thank for that, you dear girls I have loved in the past. I owe it to you that my soul is so in tune that I can be what I wish for Cordelia. I recall you with thanks; the honor belongs to you. I shall always admit that a young girl is a born teacher from whom one can always learn—if nothing else, then to deceive her—for one learns that best from the girls themselves. No matter how old I become, I shall still never forget that it is all over for a man only when he has grown so old that he can learn nothing from a young girl.
My Cordelia, My Cordelia, You say that you had not imagined me like this, but neither did I imagine that I could become like this. Is not the change in you? For it is conceivable that I have not actually changed but that the eyes with which you look at me have changed. Or is the change in me? It is in me, for I love you; it is in you, for it is you I love. In the calm, cold light of the understanding, I considered everything. Proud and unmoved, I was terrified by nothing. Nothing surprised me; even if a ghost had knocked at the door, I would have calmly picked up the candelabrum'° and opened it. But see, it was not ghosts for whom I unlocked the door, not pale, feeble shapes—it was for you, my Cordelia; it was life and youth and health and beauty that approached me. My arm shakes; I cannot hold the light steady. I fall back from you, and yet I cannot keep from looking at you, cannot I 355 356 388 Either/Or, I keep from wishing I could hold the light steady. Iam changed, but why, how, what is the nature of this change? I do not know; I know of no more explicit definition to add, no richer predicate to use than this when I altogether enigmatically say of myself: I have changed. '!
Your JOHANNES 82M y Cordelia, Erotic love loves secrecy—an engagement is a disclosure; it loves silence—an engagement is a public announcement; it loves whispering—an engagement is a loud proclamation, and yet, with my Cordelia’s help, an engagement will be a superb way to deceive the enemies. On a dark night, there is nothing more dangerous for other ships than to hang out a lantern, which is more deceptive than the darkness. 1% Your JOHANNES '34She is sitting on the sofa by the tea table; 1 am sitting at her side. She is holding my arm; her head, heavy with many thoughts, is resting on my shoulder. She is so near and yet still so far; she is devoted to me, and yet she does not belong to me. There is still some resistance, but it is not subjectively re- flected; it is the common resistance of womanliness, for wom- an’s essence is a devotedness that takes the form of resistance. —She is sitting on the sofa by the tea table; I am sitting at her side. Her heart is beating, but without passion; her bosom rises and falls, but not in agitation; at times her color changes, but with soft shading. Is it love? By no means. She listens; she understands. She listens to the familiar saying; she understands it. She listens to another person’s talking; she understands it as her own. She listens to another person’s voice as it resonates within her; she understands this resonance as if it were her own voice that discloses to her and to another.
What am I doing? Am I beguiling her? By no means—that would be of no avail to me. Am I stealing her heart? By no means—1in fact, I prefer that the girl I am going to love should keep her heart. What am I doing, then? I am shaping for my- The Seducer’s Diary 389 self a heart like unto hers. An artist paints his beloved; that is now his joy; a sculptor shapes her. This I, too, am doing, but in an intellectual sense. She does not know that I possess this image and therein really lies my falsification. I obtained it se- cretively, and in that sense I have stolen her heart, just as it is told of Rebecca that she stole Laban’s heart when she took his household gods away from him in a cunning manner. '5