Soren Kierkegaard

most important of these things to paper.” Here, to put it mildly, Sibbern
was bein gquite irritatin g. Eline Boisen, on the other hand, spoke her mind
plainly. Displayin gthe touchin gsolidarity of sisterhood, Boisen wrote:
“Perhaps she was not intelligent enough for him, and perhaps she had
wanted to assist his heart in clipping a bit off the wings of his high-flown
ambition. But she had to yield to the sin that dominated him. Or perhaps
itwasn’ta sin to exploit all her struggles, all the sorrow and the tears he
extorted from her, as a settin gwith which to make his conceited little self
noteworthy and interesting? How can such conduct be in the service of the
Gospel?”
Amon gKierke gaard’s various deliberately misleadin gmissives, there is
one letter (from late September or early October) that seems unspeakably
malignant: A box containing a bottle of Extrait double de Muguet was
accompanied by these words: “Perhaps you remember that about a year ago
I sent you a bottle of this perfume.” After a short meditation on the blessings
of recollection he focused again on the bottle and in particular on the man-
ner in which it had been carefully packaged: “So I am sending you a bottle
of it with a great many leafy wrappings. But these leaves are not the sort
that one tears away in a hurry or throws away in annoyance in order to get
to the contents. On the contrary, it is precisely these leaves that make one
happy, and I see with how much care and solicitude you will unfold each
separate leaf, thereby rememberin gthat I remember you, my Re gine, and
you yourself will remember / Your / S.K.”
And what sort of “leafy wrappings” were they which served as packing
paper, and which apparently were of such a nature that Regine would have
unfolded them carefully, one by one, all the while rememberin gor reexpe-
riencing everything? Yes, indeed, the “leafy wrappings” with which Regine
had her hands full until she reached the fine little perfume bottle deep within
were—her own letters! What else could such “leafy wrappings” have been?
Neither the season of the year nor the temperature of the love affair permit-
ted roses.
But Reginewould notlet go. “She fought like a lioness,” and was so set
on remaining with Kierkegaard that in her agony she offered to settle for
livin gin a little cupboard, and with this in mind Kierke gaard later had a
cabinetmaker produce a fine mahogany cabinet—without shelves! “Every-
thin gis carefully preserved in there,” as Kierke gaard explained, “everythin g
that reminds me of her and that could remind her of me. There is also a
copy of each of the pseudonymous writings for her; on each occasion there
were only two copies produced in vellum, one for her and one for me.”
On October 11, 1841, two months after his letter breakin goff the en-
gagement, Kierkegaard again broke the engagement, this time verbally: