one who is for me is also for an other. Here one must, as al- ways in abstract thinking, abstain from every consideration of experience, for otherwise in the present instance I would in a curious way have experience both for and against me. Here as everywhere, experience is a curious character, for its nature is always to be both for and against. So she is being-for-other. Here in turn, from a different angle, we must not let ourselves be disturbed by experience, which teaches us that very seldom do we meet a woman who is truly being-for-other, since the great majority usually are not entities at all, either for them- selves or for others. She shares this qualification with all na- ture, with all femininity in general. All nature is only for-other in this way, not in the teleological sense, in such a way that one specific segment of nature is for a different specific segment, but the whole of nature is for-other—is for spirit. It is the same again with the particular. Plant life, for example, in all naiveté unfolds its hidden charms and is only for-other. Likewise, an enigma, a charade, a secret, a vowel, etc. are merely being-for- other. This explains why God, when he created Eve, had a deep sleep fall upon Adam, for woman is man’s dream. The story teaches us in another way that woman is being-for- other. That is, it says that Jehovah took one of man’s ribs. Ifhe had, for example, taken from man’s brain, woman would certainly have continued to be being-for-other, but the purpose was not that she should be a figment of the brain but some- thing quite different. She became flesh and blood, but pre- cisely thereby she falls within the category of nature, which es- sentially is being-for-other. Not until she is touched by erotic love does she awaken; before that time she is a dream. But in this dream existence two stages can be distinguished: in the first, love dreams about her; in the second, she dreams about love.
As being-for-other, woman is characterized by pure virgin- ity. That is, virginity is a being that, insofar as it is being-for- itself, is actually an abstraction and manifests itself only for- other. Feminine innocence has the same characteristic. There- fore, it can be said that woman in this state is invisible. It is well known that there was no image of Vesta,” the goddess The Seducer’s Diary 431 who most closely represented true virginity. In other words, this form of existence is esthetically jealous of itself, just as Je- hovah is ethically jealous, and does not want any image to exist or even any idea of one. This is the contradiction—that which is for-other is not and, so to speak, first becomes visible through the other. Logically, this contradiction is entirely in order, and one who knows how to think logically will not be disturbed by it but will rejoice over it. But one who thinks il- logically will imagine that whatever is being-for-other is in the same finite sense as one can say of a particular thing: That is something for me.
Woman’s being (the word ‘‘existence’’”” already says too much, for she does not subsist out of herself) is correctly des- ignated as gracefulness, an expression that is reminiscent of vegetative life; she is like a flower, as the poets are fond of say- ing,*°8 and even the intellectual [aandelige] is present in her in a vegetative way. She belongs altogether to the category of na- ture and for this reason is free only esthetically. In the deeper sense, she first becomes free [fri] through man, and therefore we say “to propose [at frie],”” and therefore man proposes. If he proposes properly, there can be no question of any choice. To be sure, woman chooses, but if this choice is thought of as the result of a long deliberation, then that kind of choosing is un- womanly. Therefore, it is a disgrace to be rejected, because the individual involved has overrated himself, has wanted to make another free without having the capacity to do so.
In this relation there is profound irony. That which is for- other has the appearance of being dominant; man proposes, woman chooses. According to her concept, woman is the van- quished and man, according to his concept, the victor, and yet the victor submits to the defeated one; nevertheless this is al- together natural, and it is sheer boorishness, stupidity, and lack of erotic sensitivity to disregard that which follows di- rectly as a matter of course. This also has a deeper basis, namely, that woman is substance, man is reflection. There- fore, she does not choose without further ado; rather, man proposes, she chooses. But man’s proposal is a questioning; her choosing is actually an answer to a question. In a certain 399 432 Either/Or, I sense, man is more than woman, in another sense infinitely much less.
This being-for-other is the pure virginity. If it makes an at- tempt itself to be in relation to another being that is being-for- it, then the opposite manifests itself in an absolute coyness, but this opposite also shows that woman’s true being is being-for- other. The diametrical opposite of absolute devotedness is ab- solute coyness, which conversely is invisible as the abstraction against which everything breaks, although the abstraction does not therefore come to life. Womanliness now assumes the quality of abstract cruelty, which is the caricaturing extreme of essential virginal Sprédigkeit [coyness]. A man can never be as cruel as a woman. A search of mythology, folktales, legends will confirm this. Ifa representation is to be given of a princi- ple of nature that in its ruthlessness knows no limits, then it is a feminine creature. Or one is terrified to read about a young girl who callously has her suitors liquidated, as one so fre- quently reads in the fairy tales of all peoples. On the wedding night, a Bluebeard kills all the girls he has loved, but he does not enjoy the killing of them; on the contrary, the enjoyment was antecedent, and therein lies the concretion—it is not cru- elty for the sake of cruelty alone. A Don Juan seduces them and abandons them, but he has enjoyment not in abandoning them but rather in seducing them; therefore, it is in no way this ab- stract cruelty.
The more I deliberate on the matter, the more I see that my practice is in complete harmony with my theory. My practice, namely, has always been imbued with the conviction that woman is essentially being-for-other. The moment is so very significant here because being-for-other is always a matter of the moment. A longer or shorter time may pass before the moment arrives, but as soon as it has arrived, then that which originally was being-for-other assumes a relative being, and with that everything is finished. I am well aware that husbands sometimes say that woman is being-for-other in a quite differ- ent sense, that she is everything for them for the whole of life. Allowances must be made for husbands. I do believe that this is something that they make each other believe. Every class in The Seducer’s Diary 433 life ordinarily has certain conventional ways and especially certain conventional lies. This traveler’s tale must be reckoned as one of those. To have an understanding of the moment”? is not such an easy matter, and the one who misunderstands it is doomed to boredom for life. The moment is everything, and in the moment woman is everything; the consequences I do not understand. One such consequence is having a child. Now, I fancy myself to be a fairly consistent thinker, but even if I were to go mad, I am not the man to think that conse- quence. I do not understand it at all—it takes a married man for such things.
210Yesterday, Cordelia and I visited a family at their summer home. The people spent most of the time in the garden, where we amused ourselves with all kinds of physical exercise. One of the games we played was quoits [Ring]. When another gentleman who had been playing with Cordelia left, I seized the opportunity to take his place. What a wealth of loveliness she displayed, even more seductive in the graceful exertions of the game! What lovely harmony in the self-contradictions of her movements! How light she was, like a dance across the meadow! How vigorous, yet without needing resistance; how deceptive until her balance accounted for everything! How di- thyrambic her demeanor, how provocative her glance! Natu- rally, the game itself had a special interest for me. Cordelia did not seem to notice it. An allusion I made to one of those pres- ent about the beautiful custom of exchanging rings struck her soul like a lightning bolt. From that moment, a higher expla- nation pervaded the whole situation, a deeper significance per- meated it, a heightened energy inflamed her. I had both rings on my stick; I paused for a moment, exchanged a few words with those standing around us. She understood this pause. I tossed the rings to her again. A moment later, she caught both of them on her stick. She tossed both of them straight up into the air simultaneously, as if inadvertently, so that it was im- possible for me to catch them. This toss was accompanied by a look filled with unbounded daredeviltry. There is a story of a French soldier who had been in the Russian campaign and had to have his leg amputated because of gangrene. The very 401 434 E:ther/Or, I moment the agonizing operation was over, he seized the leg by the sole of the foot, tossed it up into the air, and shouted: Vive ’empereur [Long live the emperor]. With a look such as that, she, even more beautiful than ever before, tossed both rings up into the air and said to herself: Long live erotic love. I deemed it inadvisable, however, to let her run riot in this mood or to leave her alone with it, out of fear of the letdown that often comes on its heels. Therefore, I remained very cool, as if I had noticed nothing, and with the help of those present con- strained her to keep on playing. Such behavior only gives her more elasticity.
"111f any sympathy with explorations of this kind could be expected in our age, I would pose this question for a prize es- say: From the esthetic point of view, who is more modest, a young girl or a young wife, the inexperienced or the experi- enced; to whom does one dare to grant more freedom? But such things do not concern our earnest age. In Greece, such an investigation would have prompted universal attention; the whole state would have been set in motion, especially the young girls and the young wives. Our age would not believe this, but neither would our age believe it if it were told of the celebrated contest held between two Greek maidens?!” and the very painstaking investigation it occasioned, for in Greece such problems were not treated casually and light-mindedly, and yet everyone knows that Venus has an extra name on ac- count of this contest and that everyone admires the statue of Venus that has immortalized her.
A married woman has two periods of her life in which she is interesting: her very earliest youth and again at long last when she has become very much older. But she also has a moment, and this must not be denied her, when she is even lovelier than a young girl, inspires even more honor. But this is a moment that seldom occurs in life; it is a picture for the imagination that does not need to be seen in life and perhaps is never seen. I imagine her as healthy, blooming, amply developed; in her arms she is holding a child, to whom all her attention is given, in the contemplation of whom she is absorbed. It is a picture The Seducer’s Diary 435 that must be called the loveliest that human life has to display; it is anature myth, which therefore may be seen only in artistic portrayal, not in actuality. There must be no more figures in the picture either, no setting, which only interferes. If one goes to our churches, one will often have occasion to see a mother appear with a child in her arms. Apart from the disquieting crying of the child, apart from the uneasy thought about the parents’ expectations for the little one’s future based upon this crying of the infant, the surroundings in themselves interfere so much that even if everything else were perfect the effect would nevertheless be lost. The father is visible—a huge de- fect, since that cancels the myth, the charm. The earnest cho- rus of sponsors is visible—horrenda refero [I report dreadful things]?’7—and one sees nothing at all. Presented as a picture for the imagination, it is the loveliest of all. I do not lack the boldness and dash, or the brashness, to venture an assault—but if I were to see such a picture in actuality, I would be disarmed.
214How Cordelia preoccupies me! And yet the time will soon be over; my soul always requires rejuvenation. | already hear, as it were, the rooster crowing in the distance. Perhaps she hears it, too, but she believes it is heralding the morning. —Why does a young girl have such beauty, and why does it last such a short time? That thought could make me very mel- ancholy, and yet it is really none of my business. Enjoy—do not chatter. Ordinarily, people who make a profession of such deliberations do not enjoy at all. But it does no harm to think about it, because this sadness—not for oneself but for others— usually makes one a bit more handsome in a masculine way. A sadness that like a veil of mist deceptively obscures manly strength is part of the masculine erotic. A certain depression in woman corresponds to this.
215As soon as a girl has devoted herself completely, the whole thing is finished. I still always approach a young girl with a certain anxiety; my heart pounds, for I sense the eternal power that is in her nature. It has never occurred to me face to face with a married woman. The little bit of resistance she art- fully seeks to make is nothing. It is like saying that the married 402 436 Either/Or, I woman’s housecap is more impressive than the young girl’s uncovered head.?!°That is why Diana?!” has always been my ideal. This pure virginity, this absolute coyness, has always occupied me very much. But although she has always held my attention, I have also always kept a suspicious eye on her. That is, I assume that she actually has not deserved all the eulogies upon her virginity that she has reaped. She knew, namely, that her game in life is bound up with her virginity; therefore it is preserved. To this is added that in a philological nook of the world I have heard murmurings that she had some idea of the terrible birth pangs her mother had experienced. This had frightened her, and for that I cannot blame Diana. I say with Euripides: I would rather go into battle three times than give birth once.?!8 J really could not fall in love with Diana, but Ido not deny that I would give a lot for a talk with her, for what I would call a candid conversation. She must have a bag full of all kinds of tricks. Obviously my good Diana in one way or another has knowledge that makes her far less naive than even Venus. I would not bother to spy on her in her bath, by no means, but I would like to spy on her with my questions. If] were sneaking off to a rendezvous where I had fears for my victory, I would prepare myself and arm myself, activate the spirits of the erotic by conversing with her.
219 A question that has frequently been the subject of my con- sideration is: which situation, which moment, may be re- garded as the most seductive? The answer, of course, depends upon what and how one desires and how one is developed. I claim that it is the wedding day, and especially a particular mo- ment. When she is standing there adorned as a bride, and all her splendor nevertheless pales before her beauty, and she her- self in turn grows pale, when the blood stops, when the bosom is motionless, when the glance falters, when the foot hesitates, when the maiden trembles, when the fruit matures; when the heavens lift her up, when the solemnity strengthens her, when the promise carries her, when the prayer blesses her, when the myrtle crowns her; when the heart trembles, when the eyes drop, when she hides within herself, when she does not belong The Seducer’s Diary 437 to the world in order to belong to it entirely; when the bosom swells, when the creation sighs, when the voice fails, when the tear quivers before the riddle is explained, when the torch is lit, when the bridegroom awaits—then the moment is present. Soon it is too late. There is only one step left, but this is just enough for a stumble. This moment makes even an insignifi- cant girl significant; even a little Zerlina”° becomes some- thing. Everything must be gathered together, the greatest con- trasts united in the moment; if something is lacking, especially one of the primary opposites, the situation promptly loses part of its seductiveness. There is a well-known etching that por- trays a penitent.”2! She looks so young and so innocent that one is almost embarrassed for her and the father confessor— what can she really have to confess? She lifts her veil slightly and looks out at the world as if she were seeking something that she perhaps could have the opportunity of confessing on a later occasion, and obviously it is nothing more than an ob- ligation out of solicitude for—the father confessor. The situa- tion is very seductive, and since she is the only figure in the picture there is nothing to prevent imagining the church in which all this takes place as being so spacious that several and very dissimilar preachers could preach there simultaneously. The situation is very seductive, and I have no objection to introducing myself into the background, especially if this slip of a girl has nothing against it. But it nevertheless remains a very minor situation, for the girl seems to be but a child in both re- spects, and consequently it will take time for the moment to arrive.
222In my relation to Cordelia, have I been continually faith- ful to my pact? That is, my pact with the esthetic, for it is that which makes me strong—that I continually have the idea on my side. It is a secret like Samson’s hair, one that no Delilah can wrest from me.” Plainly and simply to deceive a girl, for that I certainly would not have the stamina; but the fact that the idea is present in motion, that I am acting in its service, that I dedicate myself to its service—this gives me rigorousness to- ward myself, abstinence from every forbidden pleasure. Has 405 438 Either/Or, I the interesting been preserved at all times? Yes—I dare to say that freely and openly in this secret conversation. The engage- ment itself was the interesting precisely because it did not yield that which is commonly understood as the interesting. It pre- served the interesting precisely through the contradiction be- tween the outward appearance and the inner life. If 1 had had a secret connection with her, it would have been interesting only to the first power. But this is the interesting raised to the second power, and therefore only then is it the interesting for her. The engagement is broken, but she herself breaks it in or- der to soar into a higher sphere. So it should be; this is pre- cisely the form of the interesting that will occupy her the most.
September 16 September 16 The bond has broken—full of longing, strong, bold, divine, she flies like a bird that now for the first time is allowed to spread its wings. Fly, bird, fly!** Truly, if this regal flight were a retreat from me, it would pain me very deeply. For me it would be the same as if Pygmalion’s beloved were changed to stone again.” Light have I made her, light as a thought, and should then this thought of mine not belong to me! It would be enough to despair over. A moment before, it would not have occupied me; a moment later, it will not concern me, but now—now—this now that is an eternity for me. But she is not flying away from me. Fly, then, bird, fly, rise proudly on your wings, glide through the delicate aerial kingdom; soon I shall be with you, soon I shall hide myself with you in deep soli- tude.
The aunt was rather astonished at this news. But she is too broad-minded to want to coerce Cordelia, even though I have made some attempt to engage her interest on my behalf— partly to lull her into a deeper sleep and partly to tease Cordelia a little. She is, however, very sympathetic toward me; she does not suspect how much reason I have to decline all sym- pathy.
She has received permission from her aunt to spend some time out in the country; she will visit a family. Fortunately, it so happens that she cannot immediately surrender to a glut of The Seducer’s Diary 439 moods. For some time yet, she will be kept in tension by all kinds of resistance from without. I keep up a slight commu- nication with her through letters; in that way our relationship is coming to life again. She must now be made strong in every way; in particular it is best to let her make a couple of flour- ishes of eccentric contempt for men and for the universal. Then when the day for her departure arrives, a trustworthy fellow will show up as the driver. Outside the city gate, my highly trusted servant will join them. He will accompany them to their destination and remain with her to wait on her and help her in case of need. Next to myself, I know of no one better suited for that than Johan. I have personally arranged everything out there as tastefully as possible. Nothing is lack- ing that in any way can serve to beguile her soul and pacify it in luxuriant well-being.
My Cordelia, My Cordelia, Yet the cries of ‘‘Fire!”’ in individual families have not joined in a universal Capitolinian confusion of citywide shrieking. Probably you have already had to put up with a few solos. Imagine the whole gaggle of teatime talebearers and coffee gossips; imagine a presiding chairwoman, a worthy counter- part to that immortal President Lars in Claudius,”’ and you have a picture of and a notion of and a measure of what you have lost and with whom: the opinion of good people.
Enclosed is the celebrated engraving that depicts President Lars.?28 ] was unable to purchase it separately, so I bought the complete Claudius, tore it out, and threw the rest away—for why should I venture to inconvenience you with a gift that means nothing to you at this moment; why should I not sum- mon everything to provide what could please you for just one moment; why should I permit more to be mixed up in a situ- ation than belongs to it? Nature has such a complexity, as does the person who is a slave to life’s finite relations, but you, my Cordelia, you will in your freedom hate it.
Your JOHANNES 407 440 Either/Or, I Spring is indeed the most beautiful time to fall in love, au- tumn the most beautiful to attain the object of one’s desire. Autumn has a sadness that corresponds exactly to the move- ment whereby the thought of the fulfillment of a desire flows through a person. Today I myself have been out at the country house where in a few days Cordelia will find a setting that har- monizes with her soul. I myself do not wish to participate in her surprise and in her joy over it; such erotic episodes would only weaken her soul. But if she is alone in it, she will dream away; she will see hints everywhere, clues, an enchanted world. But all this would lose its significance if I were at her side; it would make her forget that for us the time is past when something like this enjoyed together had significance. This setting must not narcotically entrap her soul but continually allow it to soar aloft as she views it all as a game that means nothing compared with what is to come. During the days still remaining, I myself plan to visit this place more often in order to keep myself in the mood.
My Cordelia, My Cordelia, Now I truly call you my; no external sign reminds me of my possession. —Soon I shall truly call you my. And when I hold you clasped tightly in my arms, when you enfold me in your embrace, then we shall need no ring to remind us that we be- long to each other, for is not this embrace a ring that is more than a symbol? And the more tightly this ring encircles us, the more inseparably it knits us together, the greater the freedom, for your freedom consists in being mine, as my freedom con- sists in being yours.
Your JOHANNES My Cordelia, While he was hunting, Alpheus”? fell in love with the nymph Arethusa. She would not grant his request but contin- ually fled before him until on the island of Ortygia she was transformed into a spring. Alpheus grieved so much over this that he was transformed into a river in Elis in the Peloponne- The Seducer’s Diary 441 sus. He did not, however, forget his love but under the sea united with that spring. Is the time of transformations past? Answer: Is the time of love past? To what can I compare your pure, deep soul, which has no connection with the world, ex- cept to a spring? And have I not told you that I am like a river that has fallen in love? And now when we are separated, do I not plunge under the sea in order to be united with you? There under the sea we shall meet again, for only in the deeps of the sea shall we really belong together.
Your JOHANNES My Cordelia, Soon, soon you will be mine. “°When the sun shuts its vig- ilant eye, when history is over and the myths begin, I will not only throw my cloak around me but I will throw the night around me like a cloak and hurry to you and listen in order to find you—listen not for your footsteps but for the beating of your heart.
Your JOHANNES During these days when I cannot be with her personally when I want to be, the thought has troubled me that it may occur to her at some moment to think about the future. It has never occurred to her before, because I have known too well how to anesthetize her esthetically. There is nothing more unerotic imaginable than this chattering about the future, which is due mainly to having nothing with which to fill up present time. If only I am with her, I have no fear about such things; no doubt I shall make her forget both time and eter- nity. Ifa man does not know how to establish rapport with a girl’s soul to that extent, he should never become involved in trying to beguile, for then it will be impossible to avoid the two reefs, questions about the future and catechizing about faith. 73! Therefore, it is entirely appropriate for Gretchen in Faus?*? to conduct a little examination of him, since Faust had been injudicious enough to disclose the knight in him, and against such an assault a girl is always armed.
408 442 Either/Or, I Now I believe that everything is arranged for her reception; she will not lack opportunity to admire my memory, or, more correctly, she will not have time to admire it. Nothing has been forgotten that could have any significance for her; on the other hand, nothing has been introduced that could directly re- mind her of me, although I am nevertheless invisibly present everywhere. But in large part the effect will depend upon how she happens to see it the first time. In that regard, my servant has received the most precise instructions, and in his way he is a perfect virtuoso. He knows how to drop a remark casually and nonchalantly if directed to do so; he knows how to be ig- norant—in short, he is invaluable to me.
The location is just as she would like it. Sitting in the center of the room, one can look out on two sides beyond everything in the foreground; there is the limitless horizon on both sides; one is alone in the vast ocean of the atmosphere. If one moves nearer to a row of windows, a forest [Skov] looms far off on the horizon like a garland, bounding and inclosing. So it should be. What does erotic love [Elskov] love? —An enclo- sure. Was not paradise itself an enclosed place, a garden facing east?*33 —But it hedges one in too closely, this ring. One moves closer to the window—a calm lake hides humbly within the higher surroundings. At the edge there is a boat. A sigh out of the heart’s fullness, a breath from the mind’s un- rest. It works loose from its mooring, glides over the surface of the lake, gently moved by the soft breeze of ineffable long- ing. Rocked on the surface of the lake, which is dreaming about the deep darkness of the forest, one vanishes in the mys- terious solitude of the forest. —One turns to the other side, where the sea spreads out before one’s eyes, which are stopped by nothing and are pursued by thoughts that nothing detains. What does erotic love love? Infinity. —What does erotic love fear? Boundaries.
Beyond this large room lies a smaller room or, more cor- rectly, a private room, for this was what the drawing room in the Wahl house approximated. The resemblance is striking. Matting woven of a special kind of willow covers the floor; in front of the sofa stands a small tea table with a lamp upon it, The Seducer’s Diary 443 the mate to the one there at home. Everything is the same, only more sumptuous. This change I think I can permit myself to make in the room. In the large room there is a piano, a very plain one, but it brings to mind the piano at the Jansens. It is open. On the music holder, the little Swedish melody lies open. The door to the hall is slightly ajar. She comes in through the door in the back—Johan has been instructed about that. Then her eyes simultaneously take in the private room and the piano; recollection is aroused in her soul, and at the same moment Johan opens the door. —The illusion is perfect. She enters the private room. She is pleased; of that I am con- vinced. As her glance falls on the table, she sees a book; at that very instant, Johan picks it up as if to put it aside as he casually remarks: The gentleman must have forgotten it when he was out here this morning. From this she learns for the first time that I had already been there the day before, and then she wants to see the book. It is a German translation of the well-known work by Apuleius: Amor and Psyche. It is not a poetic work, but it should not be that either, for it is always an affront to a young girl to offer her a book of real poetry, as if she at such a moment were not herself sufficiently poetic to imbibe the po- etry that is immediately concealed in the factually given and that has not first gone through someone else’s thought. Usually one does not think of this, and yet it is so.5 —She wants to read this book, and with that the goal is reached. —When she opens it to the place where it was last read, she will find a little sprig of myrtle, and she will also find that this means a little more than to be a bookmark.