THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
ment to which they gave themselves with such ingenuous elation, to cherish that credulous confidence, instead of assuring themselves of the necessary guarantees against a reaction bound to come; but this imprudence sprang from no ignoble source. He surely wrongs the German people who lays solely at their and their leaders' doors the responsibility for the failures of the years 1848-49, overlooking the tergiversations of the princes.
But what should make the memory of that “springtime” especially dear to Germans is the enthusiastic spirit of self-sacrifice for the great cause which for a while pervaded almost every class of society with rare unanimity. It is this moral elevation which, even if sometimes it ran into fantastic exaggerations, the German people should prize and honor—of which they should certainly not be ashamed. My heart warms whenever I think of those days. In my immediate surroundings I knew hosts of men who at that time were ready at any moment to abandon and risk all for the liberty of the people and the greatness of the fatherland. We ought to respect him who is willing to throw away all, even life itself, for a good and great idea. And whoever, be it an individual or people, has had in life moments of such self-sacrificing enthusiasm, should hold the memory of them sacred.
Upon the occasion of a crowded public meeting of university men in the “Aula,” the great university hall at Bonn, I found myself, quite unintentionally, thrust into a conspicuous position among my fellow-students. I do not remember the special purpose for which the meeting was held. Professor Ritschl, our foremost philologist and, if I recollect rightly, at that time dean of the philosophical faculty, a very highly esteemed and popular man, was in the chair. I stood among the crowd. I had thought much and formed a decided
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