Soren Kierkegaard

her whether she wanted to speak to me—and in that case my first question
would have been whether she had Schlegel’s permission.”
They encountered each other all over the place, the two of them. In the
same journal entry from 1850, Kierkegaard noted that for more than a
month he and Regine had “seen each other almost every blessed day, or
least twice every other day.” And he continued: “I take my usual walk
along the ramparts. Now she walks there, too. She comes there either with
Cordelia or by herself, and then she always walks back the same way, alone;
consequently, she encounters me both times. This is certainly not entirely
accidental.” It could scarcely have been, just as it seems more than an acci-
dent that Kierkegaard was guilty of a heaven-sent slip of the pen when
instead of Regine’s sister’s name, Cornelia, he wroteCordelia. Furthermore,
Kierkegaard was convinced that if Regine had wanted to speak with him,
there had been “plenty of opportunities.” He was similarly convinced that
Regine possessed the requisite courage to approach him, “for in fact, both
during the period that followed the end of our engagement as well as during
the period of her engagement to Schlegel, she gave a little telegraphic ges-
ture in search of a hint from me, and indeed she got it.” As for Schlegel,
Kierkegaard was quite certain that “his cause is in good hands with me; for
onlyifithashisconsentdoesitinterestme.Arelationshipwithherinwhich
there was the least trace ofnefas—oh, Good Lord—in that case people just
don’t know who I am.”
Schlegel, however, knew very well who Kierkegaard was; he also knew
thatnefaswas a Latin word that actually meant an action in which one broke
divine law, a scandal, but that it was also used in connection with adultery.
There could be no talk of any such thing, Kierkegaard promised, but as is
well-known, there are many degrees of adultery, and a “little telegraphic
gesture” is not nearly as innocent as Kierkegaard would have it seem.
On August 24, 1849, Kierkegaard began keeping a separate volume of
journal entries he titled “My Relation to ‘Her,’” in which he provides a
relatively complete and to some extent historically accurate account of the
course of the engagement, an account which has formed the basis for the
interpretations produced by subsequent generations. Even though the en-
tries were intended and written as a report to history, and thus addressed to
posterity, they nonetheless aroused in Kierkegaard the sentimental rush of
a desire to speak to Regine, whosevoicehe had not heard in almost eight
years. But to hear her voice he would need Schlegel’s permission; otherwise
he riskednefas.
Andtherefore, threemonthslater, onNovember19,1849, OfficeDirec-
tor Schlegel received one of the most curious letters he ever received. Or
rather, two letters. Like some sort of Victor Eremita with a penchant for