Soren Kierkegaard

Five months earlier, however, the same Kierkegaard who in August 1848
would term the whole affair a dogfight, had had a hard time finding the
humor in it, and on Monday, March 27, he noted in his journal: “And so
I sit here. Outside everything is in motion. The issue of nationality reverber-
ates through everything. Everyone speaks of sacrificing life and blood, and
maybe he is even willing to do so, but with the support of all-powerful
public opinion. And so I sit here in a quiet room. Most likely I will soon
be denounced for indifference concerning the national cause: I know of
only one danger, that of the religious. But no one concerns himself with
that. And no one suspects what is taking place within me. This is how
my life is nowadays. Always misunderstanding. In my suffering I am not
understood—and I am hated.”
A couple of weeks earlier, on March 11, there had been what was termed
“the Casino meeting,” so called because it had taken place in the Casino
Theater’s new building on Amaliegade; 2,300 people had purchased tickets
to gain entrance to the large room in order to hear the levelheaded H. N.
Clausen and the brilliant Orla Lehmann speak about linking Slesvig and
Denmark together under a free constitution. The next evening there was
excitement at the Hippodrome on Nørregade, where young, ambitious la-
borers as well as socialists and the genuinely rebellious proletariat gathered
to hear orators, including the republican Goldschmidt, make the case for
liberty, equality, fraternity and—lest it be forgotten—universal suffrage. On
March 20 the leading liberals met at the offices ofFædrelandetand formu-
lated a battle plan: That same evening the representatives to the city govern-
ment would be convened in an emergency session and would sign an “ad-
dress” that would demand the resignation of the existing ministry, and the
next day the address would be communicated to the incompetent Frederick
VII. Furthermore, there would be yet another “Casino meeting” in order
to adopt a resolution calling for a free constitution for Denmark-Slesvig.
Orla Lehmann wrote the draft of the epoch-making address, which he con-
cluded with an unmistakable threat of revolution if the king, who had only
been on the throne a couple of months, did not comply: “We implore Your
Majesty not to drive the nation to the self-help of desperation!”
At dawn the next day, Tuesday, March 21, the streets were already
packed with people. Close to ten thousand had assembled in front of Chris-
tiansborg Castle. A similar number had gathered on Nytorv in front of the
city hall, where the doors opened at noon and L. N. Hvidt, chairman of
the representatives to the city government, emerged and announced that
the city government had also joined in supporting the demand for a change
of ministry. This set off an exultant cheer from the assembled multitude,
which soon after began to move up Vimmelskaftet in a column, six people