BERLIN.
The streets of Berlin, though, bright with sunshine, looked empty at
eight o'clock on the morning of the 15th of June, 1866. Life in that
city does not begin so early; and at this hour only a few of the lower
orders hurried along under the lime trees, with here and there an
employe or a merchant hastening to his office.
A troubled expression appeared on the face of every passer-by;
acquaintances stopped and exchanged greetings and the news of the day,
but the news was of an unpleasant and evil nature; the Austrian
ambassador was recalled, and war was inevitable,--a war which no one
desired, and which was entirely ascribed to the ambition of the
minister, who, in order to retain office, was about to set Germany, nay
Europe, on fire.
So thought and spoke the good people of Berlin, for they were
accustomed to think and speak in the morning as Aunt Voss and Uncle
Spener had caused them to read the day before; and these two
long-established and highly privileged organs of public opinion daily
maintained, in articles whole columns in length, that the disturbance
in Germany was entirely owing to the restless ambition and criminal
rashness of this Herr von Bismarck; and all the Muellers, all the
Schultzes, all the Lehmanns, and all the Neumanns who had been brought
up in the royal capital, firmly believed that nothing was needed to
preserve the absolute peace of Europe under the parliamentary
government, than that Herr von Bismarck should be sent about his
business, either to Schoenhausen, or to Kniephof, to cultivate his March
Ukrain turnips, or his Pomeranian cabbages.
But when some of the Landwehr marched past on their way to the railway
stations from whence they were to be sent off to join the different
army corps, a very discontented expression was seen on the faces of the
Berlin children, both old and young, as they stood about in knots at
the side of the streets and roundly abused that "junker Bismarck," who
brought such misery on families, and cost the country so much money.
This did not hinder the kind-hearted inhabitants of Berlin from
bestowing on "the sacrifice to Bismarck's policy," the "Blue Laddies"
of the Landwehr Guards, who were being sent to this horrid fraternal
war, many abundant tokens of their affection, in the shape of beer,
cigars, sausages, and spirits. And "the sacrifice" itself appeared by
no means discontented; for from its ranks resounded those merry old
Prussian soldier songs, which are handed down unwritten from generation
to generation, and transplanted from the bivouac to the home, where the
boys learn them when they play at soldiers, and sing them later on in
the bivouacs of the man[oe]uvres, or of the first war to which their
king and country send them.
In the evening, all the Schultzes, Muellers, Lehmanns, and Neumanns went
to their hereditary beer-shops, and sat round the table listening to
the news from the mouth of the oracle of their different circles; and
they heard how that very day a journalist had written, or a deputy had
spoken, inculcating the great lesson that all the uneasiness, all the
stagnation of trade, all the troubles of private families, were caused
by one man, who sacrificed the happiness of the subject to his own mad
notions and ambition; one man, who placed the crown and the country in
danger, Herr von Bismarck, the aristocratic despot!
No wonder then that all the people who were hurrying along in the early
morning looked on the world with dismal eyes, nor that when
acquaintances met and discussed the news, a curse, not loud but deep,
should be bestowed on that Bismarck who plunged the whole world, which
would have been so happy without him, into grief and woe.
Through the hurrying, busy people, and through the discontented groups
walked Bismarck himself, under the lime-trees, from the
Wilhelmsstrasse. He looked as calm and well satisfied in his white
cuirassier's uniform, with its pale yellow collar, plain stool helmet,
and major's epaulets, as if he were at the highest point of popularity.
No one greeted him, but he did not care, and he walked on with a quick
step, and military bearing; he reached the corner where
Friedrichsstrasse is divided by the lime-trees, opposite Kranzler's,
the well-known confectioner; there he went to a newspaper shop and
bought a morning number of Aunt Voss's newspaper, a few inquisitive
folks silently watching him with no friendly looks meanwhile, for every
one knew the head of the ministry.
He pursued his way, hastily skimming the newspaper, until he came to
the king's plain-looking square palace, opposite the colossal statue of
Frederick the Great, over which the royal standard, with its purple
ground and black eagles, waved in the morning wind.
The guard presented arms, and Bismarck entered the palace, and turned
to the left, on the raised ground floor, towards the king's apartments.
Here he found the equerry on duty. Major the Baron von Loen greeted
him, and began a conversation on indifferent subjects, until the hour
of audience arrived, which the king always observed with the most
conscientious punctuality.
In his large, simply-furnished work and reception room stood King
William himself, with his grey hair and youthful, powerfully built
figure. He had placed himself near the further window, from whence he
could look down on the Platz below, as he frequently did during an
audience, or while hearing a report, and through which the Berlin
public often saw him during the morning hours.
King William wore the black overcoat and white buttons of the first
regiment of foot guards; his fresh-coloured face with its strongly
marked, benevolent features, surrounded with white hair, and a
carefully kept white beard, was grave, almost melancholy, as he
listened to a man, who spoke to him upon the contents of various papers
in a large black portfolio.
This man, who was a head shorter than the king, was dressed in plain
black, with a white neck-handkerchief. His hair, which was quite white,
was brushed smoothly down on each side of his head, his face had a very
animated expression, and his keen, candid eyes, sparkling with good
humour and youthful fire, were fixed on the king.
It was the Privy Councillor Schneider, who was as well known as a
dramatic author, manager, and actor, as he was as a military writer; he
had been reader to Frederick William IV., and to William I., and for
many years a faithful servant to the royal family.
"You have spoken with the king?" asked the monarch.
"I have, your majesty," replied Schneider; "on my journey home from
Duesseldorf, where I had been to obtain some information for my
historical work, I was obliged to stop in Hanover, and as his majesty
King George has always shown me the most gracious marks of his favour,
as your majesty is aware, and as I feel for him the greatest sympathy
and respect, I drove to Herrenhausen, had myself announced, and
requested an audience. The king received me in his own apartments, and
his breakfast being just served, he graciously invited me to breakfast
with him. His majesty was most kind, and I experienced afresh the truly
magic charm of his manner."
"Yes," said King William, "my cousin George is of an amiable and noble
nature. I often wish we had remained nearer together. It would have
been better for Germany. He, alas! always feels enmity to Prussia."
"I cannot understand it," said Schneider; "personal aversion cannot
possibly be the cause, for I assure your majesty, the king delights in
recollections of his youth at Berlin, he feels a deep and filial
veneration for his late majesty Frederick William III., and he drew
from his wonderful memory numerous little traits and anecdotes of old
times, of Count Neale, and old Princess Wittgenstein----"
"For whom we princes felt such immense respect," said the king
laughing.
"And," continued Schneider, "I could see what pleasure the king felt in
these reminiscences, and how much he was interested by my own
recollections of the same times."
"And did you speak of the present political position?" asked the king.
"The conversation could not fail to touch upon that," said Schneider.
"I took the liberty of expressing my hopes that the king, from his
friendly remembrance of the Berlin court, would take your majesty's
side in the present sharp conflict, and that the old bond which united
Hanover and Prussia in the past, might be strengthened afresh."
"And what was his majesty's reply?" asked King William anxiously.
"The king spoke most candidly and openly," replied Schneider,
"displaying the chivalrous character I have always admired, when I have
had the honour of any intercourse with him. He assured me he had not
the smallest animosity against Prussia, though he is so often accused
of it; that he considered a German war would be the greatest of
misfortunes, and that from the laws of the Confederation, he should
consider it an impossibility, until it actually commenced. In such
wickedness and misery he would never take part."
"Why then did he not conclude a treaty of neutrality?" asked the king.
"But his Hanoverian majesty believes himself to be completely neutral,"
replied Schneider.
"Then I cannot understand it!" exclaimed King William; "Count Platen
always denied the conclusion which I so greatly desired."
"I know nothing, your majesty, of what Count Platen did, or did not do;
but of this I am certain, King George believes himself to be
maintaining the most complete neutrality."
"You do not believe he has concluded a treaty with Austria?" asked the
king.
"No, your majesty, I do not believe it, for the king said in the most
decided way, he would take no part whatever in this unholy war.
Nevertheless----"
"Nevertheless?" asked the king.
"Nevertheless his majesty said in the most clear and straightforward
manner," added Schneider, "that the Prussian endeavour to alter the
German Confederation of States into one Confederated State would never
obtain his consent, and that he should oppose with all his power any
such attempted reform of the Confederation, and should defend his own
sovereignty and the complete independence of his crown."
King William shook his head.
"I ventured to remark, that I was sure no one, your majesty least of
all, thought of interfering with the sovereignty of any prince, but
that a stronger military union was needful for Germany, and that the
most powerful state must be the leader of this offensive and defensive
alliance. I added that his majesty had been brought up as an English
prince, but that the policy of a small state like Hanover, could not be
conducted on the principles of a first-class power, with large fleets
and armies at command."
"Did not his majesty take that amiss?" asked King William.
"Not at all," returned Schneider, "he heard me with the greatest
kindness, and without interrupting me; he then said, without any heat,
but with the greatest firmness, 'My dear Schneider, my royal rights do
not depend on the extent of my territory. I hold my crown from God,
just as much as the ruler of the largest kingdom, in the world, and
never will I abate one tittle of my sovereign and absolute
independence, be the consequence what it may!' I remarked to his
majesty that it was not my business to interfere in any way with
politics, but that the decided declaration he had just made was of such
great importance at the present moment, that I felt it would be my duty
as a true servant to my king to communicate it to your majesty on my
return. King George fully agreed, and declared that his opinion on this
subject was no secret, and that he was ready to act up to it. He then
dismissed me in the most gracious and friendly manner."
"Then they are all against me!" cried King William after a moment's
reflection, and with a very sorrowful expression.
He gazed from the window, and his eyes rested for some time on the
statue of the Great Frederick.
"He too was alone!" he said softly, "and alone when greatest!"
His countenance became more cheerful, he glanced at his watch, then
smiled at his privy councillor, and said:
"Now, my dear Schneider, puff!" He made a little movement with his
mouth as if he were blowing something away and pointed to the door.
"I vanish, your majesty," cried Schneider, as with comic haste he
rushed to the door; there he stood still for a moment and said, "I wish
all your majesty's enemies could be as quickly dispersed by the breath
of your mouth."
The king remained alone.
"I stand then on the brink of decision!" said the king thoughtfully,
"and the fate of my house and of my kingdom lies at the point of the
sword. Who would have thought that I, called to the throne in my old
age, should yet have to undertake so great a war, and that I myself
should lead the newly organized army, the work of long thought and
zealous toil, which I believed I should bequeath to my son, as an
instrument, as a security for future power and greatness,--that I
myself should lead this army into the field, there to prove it on the
same battle fields where my great ancestor inscribed his name in such
glorious characters. And yet," he added with a dreamy look, "there
often came upon me a dark foreboding. When I stood before the altar at
Koenigsberg, there to be solemnly invested with the insignia of my royal
office, as I took the sword of state a feeling seized me, sudden and
unexpected, as a warning, or a promise from on high. I felt compelled
to use the sword against the enemies of my kingdom, who in a distant
assembly were conspiring against it, and from the depths of my heart a
vow arose to God, never to draw the sword without dire necessity, but
once drawn, to wield it in God's name, until the enemies of my people
lay beneath my feet! That foreboding is fulfilled," he whispered, "and
now let us go forward, and God be with us!"
The king folded his hands together and remained silent for a time, with
his head bent down.
Then he walked rapidly to his long writing-table, cheerful energy and
decision beaming from his face, and with a firm hand he rang his bell.
"The minister-president, Count Bismarck," he commanded, as the
gentleman-in-waiting appeared.
A few moments afterwards Bismarck entered the cabinet.
His quick penetrating grey eyes were fixed for a moment on the king.
Apparently he was satisfied with the expression upon his royal master's
features, for he said joyfully, as he drew some papers from his
uniform:
"Your majesty, the decision draws near! I hope the dismal fog will now
clear up, and disclose Prussia's brilliant armies, and that they for
the future will clear the road for us after all these blocks and
stoppages."
"What do you bring?" asked the king quietly. Count Bismarck hastily
turned over his papers. "Herr von Werther," he said, "announces his
departure from Vienna. He also informs us that Benedek is with the
army, and is dissatisfied with its condition."
"That I can well believe," said the king.
"Gablenz has also joined the army."
"I regret that this brave general is amongst our enemies!" remarked the
king; "he has fought with us, and may be dangerous."
"No general alone can be dangerous to us, your majesty, material is
wanting; besides they will not listen to his advice," said Bismarck
confidently. "At the same time," he added, "the mobilization of the
army of the Confederacy against Prussia was decreed in Frankfort
yesterday. By this measure war is virtually declared, and your majesty
must take immediate steps to forestall a danger which threatens our
operations on our own territory. Hanover and Hesse must be rendered
harmless."
"How was the measure taken in Frankfort?" asked the king; "have Hanover
and Hesse declared for Austria?"
"They have not taken up the Austrian demands," replied the minister,
"but they have consented to the mobilization. Always the same game of
see-saw!" he added, "but it will be very dangerous to us if these
states are not soon made unable to hurt us."
"They have not yet armed," said the king.
"After the decree of the Confederation they must arm; and besides, even
on a peace foundation, their armies might annoy us extremely," remarked
Count Bismarck. "I beg your majesty to proceed instantly with the
greatest vigour, and to command a march into Hanover and Hesse without
delay."
The king thought deeply.
"They refused to conclude the Treaty of Neutrality in Hanover and in
Cassel when we offered it," he said. "Now that the mobilization is
decreed, of course it is no longer the question. But they have always
preferred half measures, which seems to prove they would never venture
seriously and decidedly to declare against us. I will ask them once
more the clear and positive question, and give them the opportunity of
turning back on the dangerous road they are now taking."
"But, your majesty," exclaimed Count Bismarck, "time will be lost, and
time is precious!"
"Put your mind at ease, dear count," returned the king, "no time shall
be lost. The time of doubt and restlessness is past. The time for
action has come, for us there is no longer deliberation or a choice!"
Count Bismarck breathed freely again.
"But, pour l'acquit de ma conscience," said the king, "I will give one
last and serious warning to my royal cousins, for God knows it will be
hard to me to act against them. The ultimatum guaranteeing their
possessions, and offering them an alliance on the foundation of our
proposed reform of the Confederacy, is in the hands of the
ambassadors?" he asked.
"At your majesty's command," replied the minister.
"Then give a telegraphic order immediately that the ultimatum is to be
delivered, and that we will await an answer until this evening."
"The order shall go forthwith," said Count Bismarck, "but what if a
refusal, or as is more probable, an evasive answer is returned?" he
asked, with an anxious look at the king's face.
King William was silent for a moment, then he fixed his eyes with a
look of firm resolution on his minister, and answered:
"Then the ambassadors shall declare war!"
"God save the king!" cried Count Bismarck, with a loud voice, and a
look of the greatest satisfaction.
"Let the same be done in Dresden," said the king.
"In Dresden!" exclaimed Count Bismarck; "does your majesty believe that
Herr von Beust----?"
"I have nothing to do with Herr von Beust," replied the king with
dignity, "but I will once more offer King John my hand. If it be in
vain, the guilt of what follows will not rest with me."
"But," said Count Bismarck, "may I beg your majesty immediately to
command the military operations, which will be needful as soon as war
has been declared."
"I will summon Moltke, and give the requisite orders," said the king.
"May I call your majesty's attention to one point?" asked Count
Bismarck.
The king looked at him inquiringly.
"General von Manteuffel is coming with his troops from Holstein," said
Count Bismarck; "he has permission from Hanover to march through to
Minden. His advanced guard is before Harburg, and the vessels on the
Elbe are placed at his disposal. Harburg is without a garrison, but it
might easily be occupied from Stade, which has lately been strongly
garrisoned. It appears to me highly important, at the commencement of
hostilities, in case war is declared against Hanover, that we should
have Harburg in our own hands, as under adverse circumstances much time
might be lost there. I believe it would be very judicious if your
majesty were immediately to order Manteuffel to occupy Harburg. He has
a perfect right to do so, as he is permitted to be there on his march
by the Hanoverian Government. If the ultimatum is accepted by Hanover,
he marches quietly on; if it is rejected, he has an important point,
and the railway in his hands."
The king listened attentively,--he laughed as he nodded his head.
"You are right!" said he; "what a good thing it is to have a soldier
for one's minister. The orders shall be given."
"If your majesty will permit me, I will now go," said Count Bismarck,
"that the measures you have commanded may be promptly carried out."
He moved away as if about to withdraw.
"What news have we from Paris?" asked the king.
Count Bismarck walked back into the room. His expression was rather
gloomy.
"Benedetti is silent, your majesty, contrary to his usual custom; but
Count Goltz informs us they urge action in Paris, and he is given to
understand the emperor's inclination will cause him to side with
Austria, if we do not soon take some decided step. I have reason to
think," he added, "there is some separate treaty on foot about Venice,
and at the last moment we may find they have played us some trick, so I
have been informed by a reliable agent in Vienna; and Count Usedom
declares he is dissatisfied with the Italians, and that he meets with a
good deal that is of an equivocal nature. Nevertheless," continued the
minister, "I am not much disquieted by all these intrigues, they will
yield nothing in Vienna,--there they are still quite too much on the
high horse. However, I have sent instructions to Florence, desiring
them to be watchful and energetic, and to act in harmony with our
military operations."
"But what does the Emperor Napoleon want?" asked the king.
"Always to fish in troubled waters," replied Count Bismarck, with the
reckless candour peculiar to him; "but if he is now urging us to war, I
don't think the fishing will be lucky for him. I have questioned
Benedetti on the secret proceedings now going on between Paris and
Vienna. He declares he has been informed of nothing; but at least he
can let them know in Paris that _here_ we are not deaf of both ears."
"I have never thoroughly liked this Italian alliance," said the king,
"though I own its great usefulness. Oh! that it might have been
otherwise, and that, as in my youth, conjointly with Austria we might
have turned our arms in another direction."
The minister studied the king's face with anxious eyes.
"And if it had been otherwise," he cried, with animation, "your majesty
would never have been able to free Prussia, our glorious, rising
country, the creation of your great ancestor, from the chains with
which the envy and malice of the great European powers fettered her, by
the suggestion and guidance of Austria,--this Austria who never was
German, who used Germany only as a footstool for her ambition in
Europe, and who was always ready to sell, to betray, to divide it. No,
your majesty, I rejoice that we are forced to act, and that at last the
royal eagle may spread his wings freely in the air. 'Nec soli cedit' is
his motto, and he will fly to the sun, though the way be through
thunder-clouds. I see before me the great and brilliant future of
Prussia and of Germany, and I am proud and happy that it has been
granted to me to stand beside the king, who is the creator of this
future."
King William's clear gaze rested thoughtfully on the excited,
enthusiastic face of his minister. His own eyes had sparkled at the
words of the bold statesman who stood before him confident of victory,
but he raised his looks to heaven, and said quietly and simply--
"As God wills!"
Count Bismarck looked with emotion at his royal master as he stood
before him in such simple greatness, and an expression of astonishment
crossed his features, as the mighty sovereign, on the eve of a fearful
war, which must have so great an influence on the future, laid aside
all his hopes, all his ambition, all his misgivings, in these three
simple words.
"Has your majesty any further commands?" he asked, in a voice which
still showed traces of his former excitement.
"No," replied the king, "hasten to send off the despatches."
And with a friendly nod he dismissed the minister-president.
Count Bismarck left the king's cabinet and the palace, and walked back
quicker than he had come, to his own house in Wilhelmsstrasse, and he
heeded even less than before the angry looks cast at him as he walked
along under the lime trees. His face expressed proud satisfaction, and
his manner joyful confidence. The great war, which his feelings and his
convictions showed him to be unavoidable and necessary, was to begin,
and he believed in its happy termination with a firmness and security,
which excluded all doubt and hesitation.
On the ground floor of the minister's hotel, to which he was hastening
back on account of the many pressing affairs awaiting him, in a plain
office-like room, before a table piled with papers, sat Herr von
Keudell, the Minister of Legation. He was engaged in animated
conversation with a man of about six or seven and thirty, with fair
hair and moustache, whose open features of the North German type
possessed great mobility of expression, and whose clear grey eyes shone
with good nature, humour, and talent. This man, who was dressed with
the peculiar elegance only met with in large cities, sat leaning back
in a great arm-chair, which was placed near Herr von Keudell's writing
table. His manner was a mixture of the bourgeois and the dandy, and he
balanced his glossy hat on his knee, whilst with his hand he prevented
it from falling.
"You believe then, dear Beckmann," said Herr von Keudell, "it will be
possible to keep the Paris press in our favour during the war, and
eventually to prevent the voice of public opinion in France from
declaring for Austria?"
"Nothing easier," replied Herr Albert Beckmann, the clever and witty
editor of the newspaper the "Temps," who for the last twenty years had
lived in the journalist circles of Paris, and had acquired a perfect
knowledge of all the tastes and manners of the inhabitants of the great
capital of the world, without ever losing the peculiarities of his
German origin. "Nothing easier. Neffzer is devoted to you; he will
write you up from true conviction, otherwise we could not get him to do
it. The 'Siecle' is for you,--all liberal papers look on Prussia as
progress, on Austria as reaction, and they will greet any Prussian
success with joy,--they would all condemn an alliance of France with
Austria as the height of folly. To obtain the voices of these papers in
your favour is quite unnecessary; it will only be needful to give them
the right direction, by sending them all news, diplomatic and military,
quickly, and well arranged. With regard to that--je m'en charge!"
And he stroked his hand over the nap of his hat, twirled his small
light moustache, and leant back in his chair with a satisfied air.
"But the clerical papers, 'Le Monde,' 'L'Univers?'" asked Keudell.
"Ah! c'est plus difficile!" replied Herr Beckmann, "these gentlemen are
very Austrian, and hard to manage. In the 'Monde' the German
correspondent is a cousin of mine, Doctor Onno Klopp."
"Onno Klopp is your cousin?" asked Herr von Keudell.
"Il a cet avantage," said Beckmann; "and he writes under the name of
Hermann Schultze, but I must say he is very wearisome, and as he cannot
write in French all his articles have to be translated, which makes
them still more unpalatable to the public. Fortunately, it is enough
for these papers to take one side, to make all Paris take the other."
"But have they not great influence at court?"
"Pas du tout, not the smallest," replied Herr Beckmann, confidently;
"the emperor only attends to the independent papers, and never cares
what the ultramontane journals say. I can assure you one article in the
'Temps' or the 'Siecle' would have more influence on him than a whole
campaign in the 'Monde' or 'L'Univers.'"
"Do you not believe," suggested Keudell, "that the Austrian policy will
also work upon the press, and that they will do all they can to turn
public opinion in France in favour of Austria? They will not scruple as
to means. Prince Metternich----"
"Ah! bah!" cried Beckmann. "Prince Metternich will do nothing; he is
_trop grand seigneur_ to work on the press. He has the Chevalier
Debraux de Saldapenha at his side, who will write him an article in his
Memorial Diplomatique, very fine, very diplomatic, very elevated, and
which no one will read. Enfin," he added, "true public opinion will be
for you. Ollivier too--Emile Ollivier, the Roman citizen, with a
longing in his heart for the portfolio," he said, with a laugh, "is
quite Prussian, and will do more with his conversation than any
newspaper."
"You think the portfolio has charms for Emile Ollivier?" asked Keudell,
with surprise.
"He will be minister one day," replied Herr Beckmann, confidently, "on
fera cette betise. For the present he is the man of the opposition, and
his voice is powerful. He is out and out the partizan of Prussian
supremacy in Germany; that suffices. There are still," he continued,
"the 'Revues hebdomadaires;' they have as much influence as the daily
papers, as they are read quietly and digested. But we are fortunate in
occupying the territory beforehand. I know all the editors, and I think
I can easily work upon them in your favour. You remember how favourably
my pamphlet, 'Le Traite de Gastein,' was received? I wrote it after I
had had the honour of talking to the minister-president at Wiesbaden."
"Certainly," said Keudell. "I was surprised at the support we received
from the French press; and we are still thankful to you for it."
"Pas de quoi," said Herr Beckmann, "I acted from conviction. I wished
Count Bismarck's ideas on a newly-constituted Germany to have a
favourable hearing in France, and I will still work for the same cause,
because I consider his plans just and right. _Apropos_, did you know
that Hansen is here?"
"Ah!" exclaimed Herr von Keudell.
"I bet he will stay some time," said Beckmann, with a quick side
glance, "to watch the situation. You can work through him. What you
impart to him will go to the right place, and will reach the press."
Keudell slightly bowed his head.
"Now," said Beckmann, "I think I had better go back as fast as I can to
Paris, and open the campaign."
He rose. A servant entered.
"His excellency awaits the Minister of Legation."
"I come," said Keudell. He gave Beckmann his hand, and said: "Let us
soon hear of your diligence. You will pass through Hanover just in time
to see the general flight."
"I am sorry Hanover is against you," said Beckmann. "It is my own
country, and though I left it so long ago, I have a natural and deep
regard for it. However, it will be all right when the great conflict is
once over; now Fate must have her way."
And he took leave of Herr von Keudell, who forthwith mounted the broad
staircase which led to the minister's rooms.