in rocky vales of Greece or Algeria, had possibly been put out here only
the day before into the spring sunshine. The warehouses of the capital
no doubt contained everything that could be needed, no matter how or
when, but Berlin seemed to me too small for all the trash that was
dragged out of the houses in that March night.

Bloody and terrible pictures rose before our minds, and perhaps there was
no need of Assessor Geppert's calling to us sternly, "Off home with you,
boys!" to turn our feet in that direction.

So home we ran, but stopped once, for at a fountain, either in
Leipzigstrasse or Potsdamstrasse, a ball from the artillery had struck in
the wood-work, and around it a firm hand had written with chalk in a
semicircle, "TO MY DEAR PEOPLE OF BERLIN." On the lower part of the
fountain the king's proclamation to the citizens, with the same heading,
was posted up.

What a criticism upon it!

The address set forth that a band of miscreants, principally foreigners,
had by patent falsehood turned the affair in the Schlossplatz to the
furtherance of their evil designs, and filled the heated minds of his
dear and faithful people of Berlin with thoughts of vengeance for blood
which was supposed to have been spilled. Thus they had become the
abominable authors of actual bloodshed.

The king really believed in this "band of miscreants," and attributed the
revolution, which he called a 'coup monte' (premeditated affair), to
those wretches. His letters to Bunsen are proof of it.