LONG LIVE THEIR MAJESTIES
The most anxious man in all Frankfort
was not to be found among the mighty who ruled the
Empire, or among the merchants who trafficked therein,
or among the people who starved when there was no traffic.
The most anxious man was a small, fussy individual
of great importance in his own estimation, cringing
to those above him, denouncing those beneath; Herr
Durnberg, Master of the Romer, in other words, the
Keeper of the Town Hall. The great masters whom
this little master served were imperious and unreasonable.
They gave him too little information regarding their
intentions, yet if he failed in his strict duty towards
them, they would crush him as ruthlessly as if he were
a wasp.
Unhappy Durnberg! Every morning
he expected the Electoral Court to be convened that
day, and every evening he was disappointed. It
was his first duty to lay out upon the table in that
great room, the Kaisersaal, a banquet, to be partaken
of by the newly-made Emperor, and by the seven potentates
who elected him. It was also his duty to provide
two huge tanks of wine, one containing the ruby liquor
pressed out at Assmannshausen; the other the straw-colored
beverage that had made Hochheim famous. These
tanks were connected by pipes with the plain, unassuming
fountain standing opposite the Town Hall in that square
called the Romerberg. The moment an election took
place Herr Durnberg turned off the flow of water from
the fountain, and turned on the flow of wine, thus
for an hour and a half there poured from the northward
pointing spout of the fountain the rich red wine of
Assmannshausen, and from the southern spout the delicate
white wine of Hochheim. Now, wine will keep for
a long time, but a dinner will not, so the distracted
Durnberg prepared banquet after banquet for which there
were no consumers.
At last, thought Herr Durnberg, his
vigilance was about to be rewarded. There came
up the broad, winding stair, to the landing on which
opened the great doors of the Kaisersaal, two joyous-looking
young people, evidently lovers, and with the hilt
of his sword the youth knocked against the stout panels
of the door. It was Herr Durnberg himself who
opened, and he said haughtily
“The Romer is closed, and will
not be free to strangers until after the Election.”
“We enter, nevertheless.
I am Prince Roland, here to meet the Court of Electors,
who convene at midday in the adjoining Wahlzimmer.
You, Romer-meister, will announce to their august
Lordships that I am here, and, when their will is
expressed, summon me to audience with them.”
Herr Durnberg bowed almost to the
polished floor, and flinging open both doors, retreated
backwards, still bent double as he implored them to
enter. Locking the doors, for the Electors would
reach the Wahlzimmer through a private way, to be
used by none but themselves, the bustling Durnberg
produced two chairs, which he set by the windows in
the front, and again running the risk of falling on
his nose, bowed his distinguished visitors to seats
where they might entertain themselves by watching
the enormous crowd that filled the Romerberg from end
to end, for every man in Frankfort knew an Election
was impending, and it was after the banquet, when
the wine began to flow in the fountain, that the new
Emperor exhibited himself to his people by stepping
from the Kaisersaal out upon the balcony in front
of it.
“Do you feel any shyness about
meeting this formidable conclave? Remember you
have at least two good friends among them.”
The girl placed her hand in his, and
looked affectionately upon him.
“When you are with me, Roland, I am afraid of
nothing.”
“I should not ask you to pass
through this ordeal were it not for your guardian.
His astonishment at the announcement of our marriage
will be so honest and unacted that even the suspicious
Mayence cannot accuse him of connivance in what we
have done. Of course, the strength of my position
is that I have but carried out the formal request of
their three Lordships; a request which has never been
rescinded.”
Before she could reply the hour of
twelve rang forth. The deferential Herr Durnberg
entered from the Wahlzimmer, and softly approached
them.
“Your Highness,” he said,
“my Lords, the Electors, request your presence
in the Wahlzimmer.”
“How many are there, Romer-meister?”
“There are four, your Highness;
the three Archbishops and the Count Palatine.”
“Ah,” breathed Roland,
relieved that Mayence had not called up his reserve,
and assured now that the seventh Elector had not arrived.
With a glance of encouragement at his wife, Roland
passed into the presence.
Herr Durnberg, anxious about the outcome,
showed an inclination to close the door and remain
inside, but a very definite gesture from Mayence wafted
the good man to outer regions.
Mayence opened the proceedings.
“Yesterday I received a communication
from your Highness, requesting me to convene this
Court. I am as ignorant as my colleagues regarding
the subjects to be placed before us. I therefore
announce to you that we are prepared to listen.”
“I thank you, my Lord of Mayence,”
began the Prince very quietly. “When first
I had the honor of meeting your three Lordships in
the Castle of Ehrenfels, I signed certain documents,
and came to an agreement with you upon other verbal
requests. I am not yet a man of large experience,
but at that time, although comparatively few days
have elapsed, I was a mere boy, trusting in the good
faith of the whole world, knowing nothing of its chicanery.
Since then I have been through a bitter school, learning
bitter lessons, but I am nevertheless encouraged, in
that for every man of treachery and deceit I meet
two who are trustworthy.”
“Pardon me,” said Mayence
suavely, “I did not understand that the discourse
you proposed was to be a sermon. If your theme
is a lecture on morality, I beg to remind you that
this Wahlzimmer is a place of business, and what you
say is better suited to a chapel or even a church,
than to the Election Chamber of the Empire.”
“I am sorry, my Lord,”
said Roland humbly, “if my introduction does
not meet your approval. I assure you that the
very opposite was my intention. My purpose is
to show you why a change has come over me, and in
order ”
“Once more I regret interrupting,
but the reason for whatever change has occurred can
be of little interest to any one but yourself.
You begin by making vague charges of dishonesty, treachery,
and what-not, against some person or persons unknown.
May I ask you to be definite?”
“Is it your Lordship’s wish that I should
mention names?”
Cologne showed signs of uneasiness;
Treves looked in bewilderment from one to another
of his colleagues; the Count Palatine sat deeply interested,
his elbows on the table, massive chin supported by
huge hands.
“Your Highness is the best judge
whether names should be mentioned or not,” said
Mayence, quite calmly, as if his withers were unwrung.
“But you must see that if you hint at conspiracy
and bafflement, certain inferences are likely to be
drawn. Since the time you speak of there has
been no opportunity for you to meet your fellow-men,
therefore these inferences are apt to take the color
that reference is made to one or the other of the
three personages you did meet. I therefore counsel
you either to abstain from innuendo or explain explicitly
what you mean.”
“I the more willingly bow to
your Lordship’s decision because it is characterized
by that wisdom which accompanies every word your Lordship
utters. I shall therefore designate good men and
bad.”
Mayence gazed at the young man in
amazement, but merely said:
“Proceed, sir, on your perilous road.”
“I am the head of a gang of
freebooters. When this company left Frankfort
under my command we appeared to be all of one mind.
My gang consisted entirely of ironworkers, well-set-up
young fellows in splendid physical condition, yet
before I was gone a day on our journey I found myself
confronted by mutiny. A man named Kurzbold was
the leader of this rebellion; a treacherous hound,
whom I sentenced to death. The two who stood
by me were Greusel and Ebearhard, therefore I told
you that when I met one villain I encountered two
trustworthy men.”
“When did this happen?”
asked Mayence. “And what was the object
of your freebooting expedition?”
“High Heaven!” cried the
Archbishop of Cologne, unable longer to restrain his
impatience when he saw the fatal trend of the Prince’s
confession, “what madness has overcome you?
Can you not see the effect of these disturbing disclosures?”
The Prince smiled, and answered first the last question.
“’Tis an honest confession,
my Lord, of what may be considered a dishonest practice.
It is information that should be within your knowledge
before you sit down to elect an Emperor.
“When did this happen, my Lord
of Mayence?” he continued, turning to the chairman.
“It happened when you thought I was your prisoner
in Ehrenfels. Never for a day did you hold me
there. I roamed the country at my pleasure.
I examined leisurely and effectively the defenses of
nearly every castle on the Rhine from the town of Bonn
to your own city of Mayence. The object of our
expedition, you ask? It was to loot the stolen
treasure of the robber castles, and incidentally it
resulted in the destruction by fire of Furstenberg.
The marauding excursion ended at Pfalz, where I lightened
the Pfalzgraf of his wealth, and liberated the Countess
von Sayn, unlawfully imprisoned within that fortress.”
“By the Three Kings!”
cried the Count Palatine, bringing his huge fist down
on the table like the blow of a sledge hammer, “you
are a man, and I glory that it is my privilege to
vote for you.”
“I agree with my brother of
Cologne,” said Treves, speaking for the first
time, “that this young man does not properly
weigh the inevitable result of his terrible words.
I vote, of course, with my Lord of Mayence, but such
a vote will be most reluctantly given for a self-confessed
burglar and incendiary.”
“Be not too hasty, gentlemen,”
counseled Mayence. “We are not met here
to cast votes. Your Highness, I complained a moment
ago of lack of interest in your recital; I beg to
withdraw that plea. After having heard you I
agree that the Countess was unjustly imprisoned.
She was accurate in her estimate of your character.”
“I think not, my Lord, I do
not regard myself as burglar, incendiary, thief, or
robber. I call myself rather a restorer of stolen
property. I shed no blood, which in itself is
a remarkable feature of action so drastic as mine.
The incendiarism was merely incidental, forced upon
me by the fact that the Red Margrave tied up eighteen
of my men, whom he proposed presently to hang.
I diverted his attention from this execution by the
first method that occurred to me, namely, the firing
of his Castle. In my letter to you yesterday,
my Lord, I promised to clear away certain obstacles
from your path. I therefore remove one, by saying
that an object of this conference is my own renunciation
of the Emperorship, thus while I thank my Lord Count
for his proffered franchise, I quiet the mind of my
Lord of Treves by assuring him his defection has no
terror for me. And now, my Lord of Mayence, will
you listen carefully to my suggestion?”
“Prince Roland,” replied
his Lordship, almost with geniality, “I have
never heard so graphic a narrator in my life.
Proceed, I beg of you.”
“When our band of cut-purses
set out from Frankfort, they supposed the gold was
to be shared equally among us. Mutiny taught me
to use the arts of diplomacy, which I despise.
I hoped to attain such influence over them that they
would agree to abjure wealth for the benefit of Frankfort.
I am happy to say that I accomplished my object, so
that yesterday and to-day you have witnessed the results
of my efforts; the relief of a starving city.
I merely removed the wealth of robbers to benefit
those whom they robbed. Knowing the dangerous
feeling actuating this town against your Lordships,
I caused proclamation to be made crediting this relief
to the Archbishops.
“My Lord of Mayence, when yesterday
I saw you appear on your own balcony, the most stern,
the most dignified figure I ever beheld; when I heard
the ringing cheers that greeted you; when I realized,
as never before, the majesty of your genius, I cursed
the stupid decree of Fate that denied me your friendship.
What could we not have accomplished together for the
Fatherland? I, with my youth and energy, under
the tutelage of your wisdom and experience. You
tasted there, probably for the first time in your
life, the intoxicating cup of popularity, yet it affected
you no more than if you had drunk of the fountain in
the Romerberg.
“Now, my Lords, here is what
I ask of you, and it will show how much I would have
depended upon you had I been chosen to the position
at first proposed to me. I request you, my Lord
of Treves, to remove your three thousand troops to
the other side of the Rhine.”
“I shall do nothing of the sort,”
blurted Treves, amazed at the absurd proposal.
Roland went on, unheeding:
“I ask you, my Lord of Cologne, to march your
troops to Assmannshausen.”
“You indeed babble like the
boy you said you were!” cried the indignant
Cologne. “You show no grasp of statesmanship.”
A faint smile quivered on the thin
lips of Mayence at his colleagues’ ill-disguised
fear at leaving him the man in possession so far as
Frankfort was concerned. The naïve proposal which
angered his two brethren merely amused Mayence.
This young man’s absurdity was an intellectual
treat. Roland smiled in sympathy as he turned
towards him, but his next words banished all expression
of pleasure from the face of Mayence.
“I hope to succeed better with
you, my Lord. Of course I recognize I have no
standing with this Court since my refusal of the gift
you intended to bestow. I ask you to draft into
this city seven thousand men;” then after a
pause: “the seven thousand will not have
far to march, my Lord.”
He caught an expression almost of
fear in the Archbishop’s eyes, which were quickly
veiled, but his Lordship’s tone was as unwavering
as ever when he asked:
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that the city of Mayence
is nearer to Frankfort than either Cologne or Treves.”
“Your geographical point is
undeniable. What am I to do with my ten thousand
once they are here?”
“My Lord, I admire the rigid
discipline of your men, and estimate from that the
genius of organization possessed by your officers;
a genius imparted, I believe, by you. No one
knows better than I the state of confusion which this
effort at relief has brought upon the city. I
suggest that your capable officers divide this city
into cantons, proclaim martial law, and deliver to
every inhabitant rations of food as if each man, woman,
and child were a member of your army. Meanwhile
the merchants should be relieved of a task for which
they have proved their incapacity, and turn their
attention to commerce. This relief at best must
be temporary. The vital task is to open the Rhine.
The merchants will load every barge on the river with
goods, and this flotilla the armies of Treves and
Cologne will escort in safety to the latter city.
In passing they will deliver an ultimatum to every
castle, demanding a contribution in gold towards the
further relief of Frankfort, until commerce readjusts
itself, and assuring each nobleman that if this commerce
is molested, his castle shall be forfeited, and himself
imprisoned or hanged.”
“Quite an effective plan, I
think, your Highness, to which I willingly agree,
if you can assure me of the support of my two colleagues,
which I regret to say has already been refused.”
His Lordship looked from one to another,
but neither withdrew his declaration.
“Prince Roland,” continued
Mayence, “we seem to have reached a deadlock,
and I fear its cause is that distrust of one human
being toward another that you deplored a while ago.
I confess myself, however, so pleased with the trend
of your mind as exhibited in your conversation with
us, that I am desirous to know what further proposals
you care to make, now that our mutual good intentions
have led us into an impasse.”
“Willingly, my Lord. I
propose that you at once proceed to the Election of
an Emperor, for the delay in his choosing has already
caused an anxiety and a tension dangerous to the peace
of this country.”
“Ah, that is easier said than
done, your Highness. Having yourself eliminated
the one on whom we were agreed, it seems to me you
should at least suggest a substitute.”
“Again willingly, my Lord.
You should choose some quiet, conservative man, and,
if possible, one well known to the citizens of Frankfort,
and held in good esteem by the people everywhere.
He should be a man of middle age ”
Mayence’s eyes began to close again, and his
lips to tighten “and if he had some
experience in government, that would be all to the
good. One already married is preferable to a bachelor,
for then no delicate considerations regarding a woman
can arise, as, I need not remind your Lordship, have
arisen in my own case. A man of common sense
should be selected, who would not make rash experiments
with the ideals of the German people, as a younger
and less balanced person might be tempted to do.
That he should be a good Churchman goes without saying ”
“A truce, a truce!” cried
Mayence sternly. “Again we are running into
a moral catalogue impossible of embodiment. Is
there any such man in your mind, or are you merely
treating us to a counsel of perfection?”
“Notwithstanding my pessimism,”
said Roland, “I still think so well of my countrymen
as to believe there are many such. Not to make
any recommendation to those so much better qualified
to judge than I, but merely to give a sample, I mention
the Grand Duke Karl of Hesse, who fulfills every requirement
I have named.”
For what seemed to the onlookers a
tense period of suspense, the old man seated and the
young man standing gazed intently at one another.
Mayence knew at once that in some manner unknown to
him the Prince had fathomed his intentions; that his
Highness alone knew why the Election had been delayed,
yet the Prince conveyed this knowledge directly to
the person most concerned, in the very presence of
those whom Mayence desired to keep ignorant, without
giving them the slightest hint anent the actual state
of affairs.
The favorable opinion which the Archbishop
had originally formed of Roland in Ehrenfels during
this conference became greatly augmented. Even
the most austere of men is more or less susceptible
to flattery, and yet in flattering him Roland had
managed to convey his own sincerity in this laudation.
“We will suppose the Grand Duke
Karl elected,” Mayence said at last. “What
then?”
“Why then, my Lord, the three
differing bodies of troops at present occupying Frankfort
would be withdrawn, and the danger line crossed over
to the right side.”
Mayence now asked a question that
in his own mind was crucial. Once more he would
tempt the young man to state plainly what he actually
knew.
“Can your Highness give us any
reason why you fear danger from the presence of troops
commanded by three friendly men like my colleagues
and myself?”
“My fear is that the hands of
one or the other of you may be forced, and I can perhaps
explain my apprehension better by citing an incident
to which I have already alluded. I had not the
slightest intention of burning Castle Furstenberg,
but suddenly my hand was forced. I was responsible
for the safety of my men. I hesitated not for
one instant to fire the Castle. Of the peaceful
intentions of my Lords the Archbishops there can be
no question, but at any moment a street brawl between
the soldiers, say, of Cologne and Treves, may bring
on a crisis that can only be quelled by bloodshed.
Do you see my point?”
“Yes, your Highness, I do, and
your point is well taken. I repose such confidence
in our future Emperor that voluntarily I shall withdraw
my troops from Frankfort at once. Furthermore,
I shall open the Rhine, by sending along its banks
the ultimatum you propose, not supported by my army,
but supported by the name of the Archbishop of Mayence,
and I shall be interested to know what Baron on the
Rhine dare flout that title. Will you accept
my aid, Prince Roland?”
“I accept it, my Lord, with
deep gratitude, knowing that it will prove effective.”
His Lordship rose in his place.
“I said this was not an Electoral
Court. I rise to announce my mistake. We
Electors here gathered together form a majority.
I propose to you the name of Prince Roland, son of
our late Emperor.”
“My Lord, my Lord!” cried
Roland, raising his hand, “you do not know all.”
“Patient Heaven!” cried
the irritated Archbishop, “you make too much
of us as father confessors. Do not tell us now
you have been guilty of assassination!”
“No, my Lord, but you should
know that I have married the Lady Hildegunde, Countess
von Sayn, whom you have already rejected as Empress.”
“Well, if you have accepted
the dame, the balance is redressed. I am not
sure but you made an excellent choice.”
It was now the turn of the amazed
Archbishop of Cologne to rise to his feet.
“What his Highness says is impossible.
The Lady von Sayn has been in my care ever since she
entered Frankfort, and I pledge my word she has never
left my Palace!”
“We were married yesterday at
three o’clock, in the chapel of the Benedictine
Fathers, and in the presence of four of them.
We left your Palace, my Lord, by a door which you
may discover in the wall of your garden, near the
summer-house, and my wife is present in the adjoining
room to implore your forgiveness.”
Cologne collapsed into his chair,
and drew a hand across his bewildered brow. The
situation appeared to amuse Mayence.
“I wish your Highness had withheld
this information until I was sure that my brother
of Treves will vote with me, as he promised. My
Lord of Treves, you heard my proposition. May
I count on your concurrence?”
Treves’ house of cards fell
so suddenly to the ground that under the compelling
eyes of Mayence he could do no more than stammer his
acquiescence.
“I vote for the Prince,” he said in tones
barely audible.
“And you, my Lord of Cologne?”
“Aye,” said Cologne gruffly.
“The Count Palatine?”
“Yes,” thundered the latter.
“A choice that meets my full approval, and I
speak now for the Empress as well as the Emperor.”
“Durnberg!” cried Mayence, raising his
voice.
The doors were instantly opened, and
the cringing Romer-meister appeared.
“Is the banquet prepared?”
“Ready to lay on the table, my Lord.”
“The wine for the fountains?”
“Needs but the turning of the tap, my Lord.”
“Order up the banquet, turn
the tap; and as the new Emperor is unknown to the
people, cause heralds with trumpets to set out and
proclaim the Election of Prince Roland of Frankfort.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
The Archbishop of Mayence led the
way out into the grand Kaisersaal, and the new Empress
rose from her chair, standing there, her face white
as the costume she wore. Mayence advanced to
her, bending his gray head over the hand he took in
his own.
“Your Majesty,” he said
gravely, and this was her first hint of the outcome,
“I congratulate you upon your marriage, as I
have already congratulated your husband.”
“My Lord Archbishop,”
she said in uncertain voice, “you cannot blame
me for obeying you.”
“I think my poor commands would
have been futile were it not for the assistance lent
me by his Majesty.”
The salutations of the others were
drowned by the cheers of the great assemblage in the
Romerberg. The red wine and white had begun to
flow, and the people knew what had happened.
In the intervals between the clangor of the trumpets,
they heard that a Prince of their own town had been
elected, so all eyes turned to the Romer, and cries
of “The Emperor! The Emperor!” issued
from every throat. The multitude felt that a
new day was dawning.
“I believe,” said Mayence,
“that hitherto only the Emperor has appeared
on the balcony, but to-day I suggest a precedent.
Let Emperor and Empress appear before the people.”
He motioned to Herr Durnberg, and
the latter flung open the tall windows; then Roland
taking his wife’s hand, stepped out upon the
balcony.