Soren Kierkegaard

“the article was lacking in composition” and therefore called upon Gold-
schmidt to apply himself to “comic composition.” Goldschmidt’s immedi-
ate reaction was a sense of being flattered by the show of concern, but on
further reflection he nonetheless felt humiliated because with his apparently
well-intentioned advice Kierkegaard had in fact denied that Goldschmidt
possessed “seriousness, respect, or reverence.” And the humiliation was not
made any more bearable by the fact that Goldschmidt, lacking any educa-
tion in aesthetics, had no idea whatever of what might be meant by the
concept of “comic composition.” In the course of their subsequent conver-
sations, Goldschmidt felt terribly tempted to interrogate Kierkegaard about
the nature of this thing called comic composition, but on every occasion
his courage faltered: “The moment one encountered him, one was under
pressure, one was being examined, while he himself was somewhat re-
served.” As Goldschmidt noted many years later, this much had been cer-
tain, however: In giving this ambiguous advice Kierkegaard had sharpened
“the point upon which he himself was later impaled.”
For the time being, however, it was primarily Kierkegaard who jabbed at
Goldschmidt. Thus Goldschmidt had purchased a coat at the most fashion-
able tailor of the day, Fahrner, who had promised that he would sew him a
coat that would be so fine that its like had never before been seen in Copen-
hagen. And the coat was indeed unique—dark blue with a fur collar and
with black braid on the breast, which gave it a military touch that appealed
to Goldschmidt’s fantasies about weaponry. Goldschmidt, however, had the
very understandable concern that the coat would attract too much attention.
“Nonsense,” Fahrner had said, Goldschmidt should just go out and prome-
nade down Østergade, which was then, as now, at the heart of fashionable
Copenhagen. Goldschmidt thought that this was too daring, so he instead
attempted Købmagergade, where to his great relief no one seemed to take
any notice of the fabulously overdone coat. Passing through Amagertorv
he went to Vimmelskaftet, and there stood Kierkegaard. He went over to
Goldschmidt, spoke at first of various minor matters, but then suddenly said
in an oddly hushed tone: “Don’t walk around in a coat like that. You are
not a riding instructor. One ought to dress like other people.” Goldschmidt
was so embarrassed that he was simply unable to say that he himself had had
his doubts about the coat, that it had only been a trial run. He immediately
returned home and had the coat sent back to Fahrner with orders that both
the fur collar and the braid were to be removed. Goldschmidt ended his
account on the following note: “The only thing that caused me pain was
that Kierkegaard had thought that I was really pleased with the coat.”
Kierkegaard also hurt Goldschmidt’s feelings on a later occasion, when
he pumped him about the origins ofThe Corsairand wanted to know how