In my sister Paula’s journal I have an almost daily account of that period, with frequent reference to political events, but it is not my task to write a history of the Berlin revolution.

Those of my sister’s records which refer to the revolutionary period begin with a mention of the so-called potato revolution, which occurred ten days after the opening of the General Assembly, though it had no connection with it.

[Excessive prices had been asked for a peck of potatoes, which enraged the purchasers, who threw them into the gutter and laid hands on some of the market-women.  The assembled crowd then plundered some bakers’ and butchers’ shops, and was finally dispersed by the military.  A certain Herr Winckler is said to have lost his life.  Many windows were broken, etc.]

This riot took place on the 21st of April, and on the 2d of May Paula alludes to a performance at the opera-house, which Ludo and I attended.  It was the last appearance of Fran Viardot Garcia as Iphigenia, but I fear Paula is right in saying that the great singer did her best for an ungrateful public, for the attention of the audience was directed chiefly to the king and queen.  The latter appeared in the theatre for the first time since a severe illness, the enthusiasm was great, and there was no end to the cries of “Long live the king and queen!” which were repeated between every act.

I relate the circumstance to show with what a devoted and faithful affection the people of Berlin still clung to the royal pair.  On the other hand, their regard for the Prince of Prussia, afterward Emperor William, was already shaken.  He who alone remained firm when all about the king were wavering, was regarded as the embodiment of military rule, against which a violent opposition was rising.

Our mother was even then devoted to him with a reverence which bordered upon affection, and we children with her.

We felt more familiar with him, too; than with any other members of the ruling house, for Fraulein Lamperi, who was in a measure like one of our own family, was always relating the most attractive stories about him and his noble spouse, whose waiting-woman she had been.

Of Frederick William IV it was generally jokes that were told, some of them very witty ones.  We once came in contact with him in a singular way.

Our old cook, Frau Marx, who called herself “the Marxen,” was nearly blind, and wished to enter an institution, for which it was necessary to have his Majesty’s consent.  Many years before, when she was living in a count’s family, she had taught the king, as a young prince, to churn, and on the strength of this a petition was drawn up for her by my family.  This she handed into the king’s carriage, in the palace court-yard, and to his question who she was, she replied, “Why, I’m old Marxen, and your Majesty is my last retreat.”  This speech was repeated to my mother by the adjutant who came to inquire about the petitioner, and he assured her that his Majesty had been greatly amused by the old woman’s singular choice of words, and had repeated it several times to persons about him.  Her wish was fulfilled at once.