ough the rooms,
and with solemn calmness and a silent prayer in their hearts, the
people received from the hands of the veteran soldiers the weapons for
the defence of their country. And the flags which hung around on the
walls as shining mementoes of former victories, seemed to greet the
people as patriots who were arming themselves for the holy fight
against the enemy of their country, the destroyer of liberty.

For it was no longer a fight for Silesia, a strip of territory, which
was to be fought, but a struggle between intellect and brute power,
between civilization and barbarism, the inevitable companion of the
Russian hordes. Prussia represented Germany, and on her waving banner
she bore the civilization, refinement, science, and poetry of Germany.
Her opponent was no longer the German brother, sprung from the same
stock; it was the Austrian, who had called in the assistance of
foreign barbarians, and who was fighting the Germans, the Prussians,
with the help of the Russians. For that reason, the hatred against
the Austrian was among the Prussian troops much more bitter and bloody
than the hatred and abhorrence of the Russians, the sworn enemy of
the German; and when, therefore, the Berlin citizens learned that
the Austrians, too, were approaching under Count Lacy, this news was
considered by these soldier-citizens as a consecration of their arms.

"Better be buried under the walls of Berlin than yield to the
Austrian!" was the war-cry of the people, who flocked in constantly
renewed streams to the armory for weapons, the watchword of the brave
militia who hastened to all the gates to defend them against the
enemy.

But all the streets did not offer so lively or proud an appearance.
Whilst the citizens and the warriors scarcely recovered from their
wounds, whilst the people were arming themselves to defend wife and
child, and the sacred liberty of fatherland; whilst these brave
troops were hurrying toward the Dresden and Kottbuss Gates to meet
the Russians, others were seen hastening down the Linden and Frederick
Streets. But these crowds were unarmed, though not empty-handed; their
faces were pale, and their eyes were gloomy and dull. These were the
faint-hearted and irresolute, who, in fear and trembling, were turning
their backs on a town in which was to be fought the fight for the
noblest possessions of mankind. This was the crowd of boasting,
versatile flatterers and parasites, who worshipped no other God