conies of the Palace, and their appearance seemed to have rather a soothing effect.
Many blamed the Emperor, others the army for the sanguinary rôle that was played that day, but what else could they have done under the circumstances?
The police organization was nil: Trepoff, its future head, had not as yet come to the fore. Three times the mob was summoned to disperse, three times they were warned what would be the result of their refusing to do so; but their only answer was sullen inertia and threatening.
Had not vigorous measures been taken at once, it is my firm belief that the Emperor would have shared the fate of Louis XVI.
Firing went on in the Nevsky Prospect and the Morskaia. We heard shots whistling past continually.
The Chevaliers-Gardes were obliged to make several simultaneous charges along the quays and other places that night.
The mob was not armed and remained silent. Their action was decidedly revolutionary, but it was by no means a general rising of a whole people in revolt. It was to be regretted that many quite innocent people who showed themselves in the streets out of curiosity were to be counted amongst the dead and wounded—but that was, of course, their own look out, as they should have hearkened to the warning.
Equipages were overturned; the malcontents stripped a general of all his clothes in spite of
