Yet 1848 is a year of great spiritual significance. After it men feel and think and write quite otherwise than they did before it. In literature it is the red line of separation that divides our century and marks the beginning of a new era. It was a year of jubilee, like that instituted by the old Hebrew law, that fiftieth year, in which the trumpet was to be sounded throughout all the land, which was to be hallowed, and in which liberty was to be proclaimed "throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof" (Lev. xxv. 8, &c). This year, with its quick heart-beat, its all-subduing youthful ardour, was, like that Bible year of jubilee, a year of returning into possession, a year of redemption, in which "they that had been sold were redeemed again." To this day we imbibe youthful enthusiasm from its days of March and learn important lessons from its days of November.
It is the year of jubilee, the year of mourning, the boundary year.
[1] 'Twas in the mountains the first shot was fired—in the mountains, against the priests! That shot loosened the avalanche—three countries sprang to arms! Switzerland can already rest on her laurels; the eternal mountains are trembling to their centres with joy.
The sport soon spread to Italy—Scylla and Charybdis, Vesuvius and Etna broke loose; explosion upon explosion, blow upon blow!' "This is becoming serious, my royal, my imperial brother!" is the message from Vienna to Berlin, from Berlin to Vienna; even Nick begins to tremble.
And now the paving-stones are once more torn up, the stones of those streets on to which ere now two kings have been ruthlessly flung by armed liberty.
[2] In front of the castle in threatening line stand the cannon, awaiting the word of command—the gates are shuddering and yielding—the moment has come, brave gunner!
Forward to the muzzle he goes, as if the order had been to stop the mouths of the destroyers; fearlessly he cries: "First me, then the defenceless citizen!"—No farther command is given. Thou hast shamed them! All thanks to thee, brave gunner!
[3] Frhr. von Helfert: Wiener Parnass im Jahre 1848.
[4] The press is free! Peal the bells! sound the glad tidings far and wide! Proclaim to the farthest-off of Germany's sons: The press is free, the ramparts of liberty are stormed!