Soren Kierkegaard

encountered a similar combination of a fine, polished, social tone and an
unctuous priestliness.” Rasmus Nielsen shared Clausen’s point of view and
his impression: “In Bishop Mynster’s personality and his character there was
something calculated to engender awe for the man, respect for the old
man.” But no one went as far as Kierkegaard, making theaestheticside of
Mynster’s activities into atheologicalproblem. Kierkegaard was capable of
measuring Mynster’s distance from the idealmerely by looking at him,soto
speak:“EverytrueimitatorofChristmustcomeascloseaspossibletoletting
his existence express this same thing: that lowliness and despisedness are
inseparable from being a Christian. Christ must certainly be preached, but
always by being presented existentially. As soon as the least little bit of
worldly advantage is gained by preaching Christ, there is trouble brewing.”
There was plenty of trouble of this sort brewing in the Church of Our
Lady, where Mynster had quite definitely gained worldly advantage from
his preaching activities. On moving into the episcopal residence on May 3,
1835, Mynster had been presented with a “splendid set of furniture, a sofa
and ten armchairs,” charmingly upholstered with the embroidery work of
female confirmands and other friendly persons. On the same occasion, a
marble bust of Mynster, sculpted by H. W. Bissen, was unveiled, and the
so generously gifted bishop was also presented with financial securities
worth one thousand rixdollars for the purpose of establishing an endowed
fellowship bearing Mynster’s name.
Mynster was neither a monk nor a martyr, but then again, he had no
theological reason to apologize for not being so. While A. S. Ørsted—who
playedcardstogetherwithMynsterand Oehlenschla ̈ger(thepreferredgame
was ombre)—called the normal standard of living at the episcopal residence
“modest,” this did not mean that Mynster did not put on quite fashionable
dinner parties, as on the occasion when his friend P.C.F. von Scholten sent
him a turtle from the West Indies. Things could get “a little too luxurious”
at such dinners, as one guest wrote after having partaken generously of
the various dishes. The elderly lexicographer Christian Molbech had been
among the guests at a dinner party in December 1853, and in a letter to his
son he mentioned that he had had “a wonderful, first-class dinner, really
quite splendid, and I had to pass on four or five of the courses, really exqui-
site ones.”
Kierkegaard was never invited to these extravagant dinners—he had to
be satisfied with hearing about them—and he spent several pages of his
journal imagining howthey were gorging themselves over thereat the bish-
op’s residence. “Now, for example, there is a turtle soup banquet at Privy
CouncillorH.’s—theSuperintendentisalsoincluded,” hewroteinanentry