The people now endured seven weeks of uninterrupted change and
kaleidoscopic alteration of the political situation. Relations with all
foreign powers, and even with Sweden and Norway, presented a different
aspect to the Danish public every week. Sweden's withdrawal created a
very bitter impression; the public had been induced to believe that an
alliance was concluded. Then followed the "pressure" in Copenhagen by
the emissaries of all the Powers, to induce the Government to recall
the November Constitution, then the Czar's letter to the Duke of
Augustenborg, finally the occupation of Holstein by German troops, with
all the censure and disgrace that the Danish army had to endure, for
Holstein was evacuated without a blow being struck, and the Duke, to
the accompanyment of scorn and derision heaped on the Danes, was
proclaimed in all the towns of Holstein.
On Christmas Eve came tidings of the convocation of the Senate,
simultaneously with a change of Ministry which placed Monrad at the
head of the country, and in connection with this a rumour that all
young men of twenty-one were to be called out at once. This last proved
to be incorrect, and the minds of the young men alternated between
composure at the prospect of war and an enthusiastic desire for war,
and a belief that there would be no war at all. The first few days in
January, building on the rumour that the last note from England had
promised help in the event of the Eider being passed, people began to
hope that the war might be avoided, and pinned their faith to Monrad's
dictatorship.
Frederik Nutzhorn, who did not believe there would be a war, started on
a visit to Rome; Jens Paludan-Müller, who had been called out, was
quartered at Rendsborg until the German troops marched in; Julius
Lange, who, as he had just become engaged, did not wish to see his work
interrupted and his future prospects delayed by the war, had gone to
Islingen, where he had originally made the acquaintance of his fiancée.
Under these circumstances, as a twenty-one-year-old student who had
completed his university studies, I was anxious to get my examination
over as quickly as possible. At the end of 1863 I wrote to my teacher,
Professor Bröchner, who had promised me a short philosophical summary
as a preparation for the University test: "I shall sit under a
conjunction of all the most unfavourable circumstances possible, since
for more than a month my head has been so full of the events of the day
that I have been able neither to read nor think, while the time of the
examination itself promises to be still more disquiet. Still, I dare
not draw back, as I should then risk--which may possibly happen in any
case--being hindered from my examination by being called out by the
conscription and perhaps come to lie in my grave as _Studiosus_ instead
of _candidatus magisterii_, which latter looks infinitely more
impressive and is more satisfying to a man as greedy of honour as Your
respectful and heartily affectionate, etc."