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Updated: May 5, 2025
Shortly afterwards, in North and South, Goldschmidt, on the occasion of Broechner's candidature for parliament, had written that the well-known atheist, H. Broechner, naturally, as contributor to The Fatherland, was supported by the "Party."
His wife stopped my grandfather in the street and informed him that his grandson was the cleverest and best-read young man that her husband had come across during his University experience. Strangely enough, he did say it and record it on his death-bed seven years later, exactly as he had promised to do. In Broechner's house, too, there was a great deal said about my becoming a professor.
In any case he never referred to the subject again in after years, when we frequently met. Among Broechner's private pupils was a young student. Kristian Moeller, by name, who devoted himself exclusively to philosophy, and of whom Broechner was particularly fond. He had an unusually keen intelligence, inclined to critical and disintegrating research.
It was more difficult to resign a professorship than never to accept it. And, once a professor, a man soon got married and settled down as a citizen of the state, not in a position to dare anything. To dispose of my life at Broechner's request would be like selling my soul to the Devil. So I replied briefly that I was too much attached to Hauch to be able or willing to speculate on his death.
He let me know through this man that he would like to make my acquaintance, gave him his address and mentioned his receiving hours. As I held back, he repeated the invitation, but in vain. Broechner's influence was too strong.
Although he cherished warm feelings of affection for both R. Nielsen and Broechner the two professors of Philosophy, he could not help hoping for a discussion between them of the fundamental questions which were engaging his mind. As Broechner's pupil, I said a little of what was in my mind to him, but could not induce him to begin.
Broechner's mere manner, as he remarked one day with a smile, "You do not read The Daily Paper on principle," made me perceive in a flash the comicality of my indignation over such articles as it contained. My horizon was still sufficiently circumscribed for me to suppose that the state of affairs in Copenhagen was, in and of itself, of importance. I myself regarded my horizon as wide.
Broechner's Ideal Realism forms the transitional stage to the philosophy of Reality. Ibsen's attack upon the existing state of things corresponds to realism in the French drama. He is Dumas on Northern soil. In the Love Comedy, as a scoffer he is inharmonious.
I did not like Goldschmidt. He had dared to profane the great Soeren Kierkegaard, had pilloried him for the benefit of a second-rate public. I disliked him on Kierkegaard's account. But I disliked him much more actively on my master, Professor Broechner's account.
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