Wilhelm’s friends interested themselves warmly in this new sphere of thought.  Paul was a member of the National Liberal Election Society, and was enthusiastic about Bennigsen and Lasker, who possessed enough statesmanlike wisdom to surrender fearlessly to the opposition, and determine to go with the government.  To these present experiences Dr. Schrotter joined the half-forgotten training of ’48, and agreed to belong to a society of the district; he had soon an official appointment, and placed his experience and knowledge at the disposal of the sick and poor of the town.  He did not interest himself at first in political strife.  He was very uneasy about the turn things were taking, and considered that it was not right to rebel against the existing conditions of things, which to the majority of people were agreeable enough.

“You have fought and bled for the new empire,” he said; “I left it while I was in India to get on as best it could; if the others think themselves well off, I don’t see why they should not have the satisfaction of the results of their work, just because of the sulky temper of criticism.”

Wilhelm had often taken one or other of them to his society, but without their being much interested in the meetings.  One day he asked his friend whether he would not go with him to a social democratic meeting.  Schrotter was quite prepared, as he saw that Wilhelm was really in earnest, and was trying to come in contact with the realities of life.  Paul abominated the social democrats, but he sacrificed himself to spend an hour there with Wilhelm.

The meeting they were to attend was at the Tivoli.  It was a disagreeable evening in April, with gusts of wind and frequent showers.  The sky was full of clouds chasing each other in endless succession, the flames of gas flickered and flared, and the streets were covered with mud which splashed up under the horses’ feet.  The three friends went in spite of bad weather to the Tivoli on foot.  In the Belle Alliance Strasse they came upon groups of workmen going in the same direction as themselves, and as they reached the place in the Lichterfelder Strasse, they were accompanied by a long stream of people.  At the entrance to the club they found themselves in the midst of a crowd, and could only advance very slowly unless, like the others, they pushed and elbowed their way.  Mounting a few steps they reached an enormous garden, lighted by the fitful beams of the moon as she emerged from the clouds, and a few gaslamps.  On the right was a Gothic building, which would have been sufficiently handsome if built in stone, but with barbarous taste had been executed in wood.  At the end of the garden some more steps led to a broad, four-cornered courtyard, on the right of which the iron spire of the National Memorial was dimly visible, while to the left was a large building of red and yellow brick with a four-square tower at either end, a pavilion projecting from the center, and a number of large windows.  Over the entrance in the center of the building was the inscription in gold letters on a blue ground: