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A dignified square along the grand boulevard of Unter den Linden in central Berlin, Bebelplatz is ringed by handsome buildings of the eighteenth century yet is remembered above all as the site of one of the most notorious episodes of the Nazi era. The square was laid out in the mid-eighteenth century as part of an ambitious royal scheme to create a forum of culture and learning, and it is bordered by the state opera house, the domed Catholic cathedral of Saint Hedwig and a wing of the old royal library, elegant structures that lend it architectural distinction. Its darker fame dates from May 1933, when, shortly after the Nazis came to power, students gathered here to burn thousands of books by authors deemed undesirable by the regime, a chilling act of cultural destruction that has come to symbolise the suppression of free thought. The event is commemorated by a poignant and understated memorial set into the centre of the square: a window in the paving looking down into a white underground room lined with empty bookshelves, large enough to have held the volumes destroyed, accompanied by a prophetic inscription warning that those who burn books will in the end burn people. The contrast between the elegant surroundings and the memory they hold gives the square a reflective, sobering atmosphere. Freely accessible at all times in the heart of the historic centre, it welcomes visitors throughout the year across every season of the calendar. The buildings that frame the square were conceived in the eighteenth century as part of a royal vision for a forum of arts and learning, and they lend it a stately, harmonious character that stands in deliberate and poignant contrast to the memory of the events of 1933. The book burning that took place here, when works by writers, scientists and thinkers condemned by the regime were consigned to the flames before a crowd, has come to stand as a warning of where the suppression of free expression can lead, and the understated memorial set beneath the paving, with its rows of empty shelves visible through a window in the ground, invites quiet reflection rather than spectacle. The accompanying inscription, quoting a writer who a century earlier had foreseen that the burning of books would be followed by the burning of people, gives the place a chilling resonance. Surrounded by the opera house, the cathedral and the historic university library, and lying on the grand avenue that runs through the heart of the old city, the square draws visitors who come both to admire its architecture and to ponder the history it commemorates.