Soren Kierkegaard

from the mid-1840s send their own quiet message about the relationship
between the genuinely connected though very heterogeneous friends .It
had been a long time since they had sat up in Emil’s little garret room in
Philosopher’s Alley or had taken twilight walks outside the city and fanta-
sized about the future that was now already beginning to fade behind them,
but they might still meet for a dinner that Kierkegaard would order from
someplace in town and have sent up to his rooms .There is an almost en-
dearing tone in this little note: “Dear Emil! Come over and see me for a
bit this afternoon .Come soon .Yours, S .Kierkegaard .” At times they might
also dine at Boesen’s, but it would still be Kierkegaard who served as the
cheerful host: “Dear! Will you dine with me this evening? I have already
ordered the food .If so, I will come over to your place at 6:00 or 6:30P.M.
Will you be in at that hour?” If proofreading with Levin or other work
prevented Kierkegaard from dining with Boesen, he might instead send his
servant Anders over with a bottle of wine from no less than Dominico
Capozzi on Kongens Nytorv, purveyor of victuals to the royal court, and
enclose a note in which he asked Boesen to drink a toast to the health of
them both .Kierkegaard’s concern for Boesen could also be seen in his vigi-
lance for possible clerical appointments, perhaps as prison chaplain at the
“House of Punishment, Rasping, and Betterment” on Christianshavn, or
maybe as the parish chaplain in Fredensborg: “This is something for you,
hic Rhodus, hic salta” [Latin: “Here is Rhodes, jump here” (expression used
in calling a bluff)].
All the same, the intervals between their heart-to-heart conversations
became longer and longer .Kierkegaard was too busy and he became forget-
ful—one day he only remembered his “promise” when he was seated in a
carriage a good number of miles from Copenhagen and “the sun’s rays
penetrated to my brain.” From a letter that was most likely written in the
winter of 1844, it can be seen that the friendship had lost some of its old
dependability: “Dear! How are you? Are you alive? Yes, I know that....
I have visited you in spirit, but I visit no onein body, and it is only in your
case that it pains me that I do not do so.” This is followed by a short post-
script: “I just cannot bring myself to believe that a spring will follow this
winter .Today I have again bought myself a lily of the valley in order at
least to awaken the thought of such a possibility.” This is a sensitive and
well-to-do man who buys himself lilies of the valley when they are out of
season, but he loved the flower—in her day, of course, he had given Regine
“a bottle of lily of the valley,” so now his apartment not only was filled
with the fragrance of spring, it was also strongly scented with the memory
of his mad love affair.
During these years Boesen was laboring away onThe Development of a
Religious Life, Sketched in Letters from Cornelius, published by Z .With its pseu-