41Philosophy
You can spend years in Copenhagen
without ever realising there were once
walls around it. You could change trains
at Denmark’s busiest station, Nørreport,
every day without knowing this was
where the northern gate once stood, that
right into the nineteenth century, Co-
penhageners were still locked in every
night. You might pass Jarmers Tårn with-
out recognising the stumpy ring of bricks
as all that remains of the medieval towers.
The tourists chasing Nordic cool still
walk paths laid out centuries ago for peo-
ple and goods (the city’s name means
‘market harbour’). The neon and sha-
warma may be new, but the streets lay
much as they did when a curious, hunch-
backed figure strode through them one
hundred and seventy years ago.
Søren Kierkegaard passes many phi-
losophers by altogether. He got me early. I
was a first-year student and seeing Kierke-
gaard’s name in Jean-Paul Sartre’s foot-
notes reminded me of a certain Monty
Python sketch. I ended up following the
footnotes out and got hooked. In time,
this passion led me and my partner Jessica
to Copenhagen, to take up a fellowship inthe Søren Kierkegaard Research Centre.
(In a very Danish irony, the Kierkegaard
Centre sat above a centre dedicated to his
contemporary, N.F.S. Grundtvig. The two
men loathed each other.)
Copenhagen is big enough to be excit-
ing, small enough that you can walk most
places and cycle the rest. It wears its years
and its injuries elegantly. Little of the me-
dieval city remains, having been rebuilt
after disastrous fires and naval bombard-
ment. From our bedroom we could see
the resurrected Shell House, comman-
deered by the Gestapo during the occupa-
tion until it was bombed by the RAF, in
an attack that also destroyed a crowded
boarding school. None of this is evident
in the wide boulevards of Frederiksberg or
among the cobblestones and green copper
spires of the inner city. The city remains
implacable, ageless.
Kierkegaard walked these streets daily,
for hours, stopping to talk with those he
met. The city is as much a character in his
writings as the sometimes pompous and
even unlikeable pseudonyms with which
he peoples his books. At a time when phi-
losophy texts were offered as ponderousCopenhagen is big enough to be exciting, small enough
that you can walk most places and cycle the rest. It
wears its years and its injuries elegantly.Words
PATRICK STOKES
Illustration
AIDA NOVOA &
CARLOS EGANMY TRAVELS WITH KIERKEGAARDMy travels with
Kierkegaard
41Philosophy
You can spend years in Copenhagen
without ever realising there were once
walls around it. You could change trains
at Denmark’s busiest station, Nørreport,
every day without knowing this was
where the northern gate once stood, that
right into the nineteenth century, Co-
penhageners were still locked in every
night. You might pass Jarmers Tårn with-
out recognising the stumpy ring of bricks
as all that remains of the medieval towers.
The tourists chasing Nordic cool still
walk paths laid out centuries ago for peo-
ple and goods (the city’s name means
‘market harbour’). The neon and sha-
warma may be new, but the streets lay
much as they did when a curious, hunch-
backed figure strode through them one
hundred and seventy years ago.
Søren Kierkegaard passes many phi-
losophers by altogether. He got me early. I
was a first-year student and seeing Kierke-
gaard’s name in Jean-Paul Sartre’s foot-
notes reminded me of a certain Monty
Python sketch. I ended up following the
footnotes out and got hooked. In time,
this passion led me and my partner Jessica
to Copenhagen, to take up a fellowship inthe Søren Kierkegaard Research Centre.
(In a very Danish irony, the Kierkegaard
Centre sat above a centre dedicated to his
contemporary, N.F.S. Grundtvig. The two
men loathed each other.)
Copenhagen is big enough to be excit-
ing, small enough that you can walk most
places and cycle the rest. It wears its years
and its injuries elegantly. Little of the me-
dieval city remains, having been rebuilt
after disastrous fires and naval bombard-
ment. From our bedroom we could see
the resurrected Shell House, comman-
deered by the Gestapo during the occupa-
tion until it was bombed by the RAF, in
an attack that also destroyed a crowded
boarding school. None of this is evident
in the wide boulevards of Frederiksberg or
among the cobblestones and green copper
spires of the inner city. The city remains
implacable, ageless.
Kierkegaard walked these streets daily,
for hours, stopping to talk with those he
met. The city is as much a character in his
writings as the sometimes pompous and
even unlikeable pseudonyms with which
he peoples his books. At a time when phi-
losophy texts were offered as ponderousCopenhagen is big enough to be exciting, small enough
that you can walk most places and cycle the rest. It
wears its years and its injuries elegantly.Words
PATRICK STOKES
Illustration
AIDA NOVOA &
CARLOS EGAN
MY TRAVELS WITH KIERKEGAARDMy travels with
Kierkegaard