The revolution which at the end of February broke out in Paris quickly spread to Germany; the ground was prepared and the news quickly came to him, first of disorder in South Germany, then of the fall of the Ministry in Dresden and Munich; after a few days it was told that a revolution had taken place in Vienna itself.  The rising in Austria was the signal for Berlin, and on the 18th of March the revolution broke out there also.  The King had promised to grant a Constitution; a fierce fight had taken place in the streets of the city between the soldiers and the people; the King had surrendered to the mob, and had ordered the troops to withdraw from the city.  He was himself almost a prisoner in his castle protected only by a civilian National Guard.  He was exposed to the insults of the crowd; his brother had had to leave the city and the country.  It is impossible to describe the enthusiasm and wild delight with which the people of Germany heard of these events.  Now the press was free, now they also were going to be free and great and strong.  All the resistance of authority was overthrown; nothing, it seemed, stood between them and the attainment of their ideal of a united and free Germany.  They had achieved a revolution; they had become a political people; they had shewn themselves the equals of England and of France.  They had liberty, and they would soon have a Constitution.  Bismarck did not share this feeling; he saw only that the monarchy which he respected, and the King whom, with all his faults, he loved and honoured, were humiliated and disgraced.  This was worse than Jena.  A defeat on the field of battle can be avenged; here the enemies were his own countrymen; it was Prussian subjects who had made the King the laughing-stock of Europe.  Only a few months ago he had pleaded that they should not lose that confidence between King and people which was the finest tradition of the Prussian State; could this confidence ever be restored when the blood of so many soldiers and citizens had been shed?  He felt as though someone had struck him in the face, for his country’s dishonour was to him as his own; he became ill with gall and anger.  He had only two thoughts:  first to restore to the King courage and confidence, and then—­revenge on the men who had done this thing.  He at least was not going to play with the revolution.  He at once sat down and wrote to the King a letter full of ardent expressions of loyalty and affection, that he might know there still were men on whom he could rely.  It is said that for months after, through all this terrible year, the King kept it open by him on his writing-table.  Then he hurried to Berlin, if necessary to defend him with the sword.  This was not necessary, but the situation was almost worse than he feared; the King was safe, but he was safe because he had surrendered to the revolution; he had proclaimed the fatal words that Prussia was to be dissolved in Germany.