THE TWO ARCHBISHOPS FALL OUT.
The great white tent erected on the heights of Bieldenburg was in
reality much larger than it appeared from the battlement of Thuron. It
is doubtful if any who then beheld it, lord or serf, had the slightest
conception of its significance. It was actually the precursor of what is
perhaps the grandest cathedral the world has ever seen; and when, two
years after, Konrad von Hochstaden laid the foundation stone of Cologne
Cathedral, it was the designer of this tent who drew the plans for that
splendid edifice, which was not to be completed for centuries later.
If the three Archbishops of Cologne, Mayence and Treves, who were also
Electors, could have held honestly together, and could have suppressed
their jealousy of each other, they might have swayed the destinies of
Germany much more surely than they did, for they needed but one more
Elector with them to form a majority of the Electoral College, the
number of whose members was now fixed at seven, a figure which the
Germans were loath to change, because it had come, in this connection,
to have almost a mystical significance. Not only had the Electors power
to nominate whom they pleased as Emperor, but the College had also the
right to depose him, yet the latter privilege was practically nullified
by their fear and hatred of each other, so that afterwards an
acknowledged fool, Charles IV., who was held in such slight respect that
a butcher in Worms had him arrested for not paying his meat bill, so
worked on the mutual dislikes of the Electors that he not only reigned
undeposed, in spite of a thousand reasons for being rid of him, but
actually arranged matters so that his weak-minded son was elected to
succeed him, in spite of the determination heretofore held, that no
colour should be given for establishing a precedent that a son might
succeed his father on the German throne.
The Rhine, flowing from Mayence to Cologne, seemed to have formed a link
between the Archbishops of each place, and they were usually found in
alliance with each other, bonded against powerful Treves, whose
iron-handed master had defied them both and held them at bay outside the
barred gates of Frankfort. The astute Arnold von Isenberg had now
resolved to lure the Archbishop of Cologne from the Archbishop of
Mayence, and thus Treves and Cologne found themselves in alliance
opposite Thuron. What the inducements were is unknown, but as the
Archbishop of Cologne two years later began the great Cathedral, and as
the Archbishop of Treves four years later began the castle of
Stolzenfels on the Rhine, it may be surmised that there were mutual
concessions, and that each was reasonably well guaranteed from
interference by the other. Stolzenfels stands, as near as may be, midway
between Cologne and Mayence, so in fixing a fortress residence for
himself and his successors right on the line of communication between
his two rivals, it must be admitted that the Archbishop of Treves had a
substantial advantage in the bargain. This desertion of his ancient ally
must have somewhat surprised the Archbishop of Mayence, for he doubtless
remembered that twenty-one years before, Frederick von Isenberg, a
relative of the master of Treves, had assassinated on the Cavelsburg,
Engelbert von Berg, Archbishop of Cologne, the predecessor of Konrad von
Hochstaden, one Archbishop reigning between.
There were also reasons of locality which made an alliance between
Cologne and Treves natural. Mayence up the Rhine, Cologne down the
Rhine, and Treves up the Moselle formed the points of a large triangle,
and the latter cities being further from the capital than the other,
were perhaps freer from fear of whatever influence the Court might
possess.
It had long been the ambition of Cologne to build a Cathedral in keeping
with the growing ambition of the Archbishopric. Both Mayence and Treves
had great Cathedrals. The Cathedral at Mayence had been four times
destroyed by fire within the past two centuries and had arisen like an
ecclesiastical phoenix in greater splendour after each conflagration.
That of Treves had been built on the site of the Roman Basilica, and was
said to rival the ancient edifice in size and magnificence. The
ill-fated Engelbert took the first steps towards the beginning of a
Cathedral in Cologne that would at least equal those of Mayence and
Treves, but his assassination ended the scheme for a time. His successor
did nothing, and now that Konrad von Hochstaden was Archbishop he was
ambitious to link his name with the commencement of an edifice that
would eclipse anything then in existence. It was his intention to employ
the greatest architects in Germany, and when this determination spread
abroad, it caused many artists more or less known to submit plans to
him, but none of these met the Archbishop's entire approbation.
There came a man from a small village near Cologne who desired to submit
designs for a great church, but being without influence and without
wealth he never succeeded in gaining audience with the princely
Archbishop. He had no gold with which to bribe attendants and no highly
placed friends who could whisper a word for him at the proper moment.
Yet he had one friend who believed in him. Father Ambrose, clerical
secretary to the Archbishop, was a native of the small and insignificant
village of Riehl near Cologne, where the man ambitious to build a
Cathedral lived, and Meister Gerard, the architect, was well known to
him. Ambrose spoke once or twice to Konrad regarding this man, but the
Archbishop was then busy with the secret envoys from Treves, and while
war is being concocted, churches must stand in abeyance. When these
secret negotiations were completed, Father Ambrose again attempted to
bespeak a hearing for his fellow-townsman. The Archbishop, however, was
not then in the architectural mood, and Ambrose feared his request had
been inopportune.
"You are a good man, Ambrose," said the Archbishop, "but persistent. Now
let me tell you finally what my purpose is. It is not a village church I
wish to see builded, but a Cathedral that will outshine Imperial Rome
herself. Therefore it is not a village architect I am on the outlook
for, but one who will prove the modern brother of the builder of the
Parthenon in Athens."
"I know not who built the Parthenon, my Lord," said the monk, with the
dogged pertinacity of the North German, "but it may have been a village
architect, despised by the great of Greece."
"It may indeed be so. Whence comes this architect of yours?"
"From Riehl, my Lord."
"From Riehl, indeed! You might at least have given us a town the size of
Bonn. From Riehl!" The Archbishop threw back his head and laughed.
"'Can any good come out of Nazareth,' quoth they of old," said the monk,
solemnly. The Archbishop became instantly serious.
"Ambrose, that smacks strongly of the sacrilegious."
"I may put it thus then--'A prophet is not without honour but in his own
country, and among his own kin, and in his own house,'" said the monk,
giving the quotation in Latin.
"You think much of this man?"
"I do indeed, my Lord."
"Then I will give him a commission, but it shall not be the building of
a Cathedral. I have made compact with my brother of Treves, Arnold von
Isenberg, too long estranged from me. We are more like to find ourselves
engaged in tearing down than in building up. Let your architect then
design for me a large tent, one that will hold a hundred men while
seated at dinner, or five hundred, with tables removed, to hear Mass.
Let the tent be well proportioned, for in that lies architectural skill.
Its ornamentation will give little scope to a dull man and much to one
who is ingenious. Draw what money is needed from the Treasury for its
construction, and see that the sum be ample, so that your architect may
have fair recompense, and that I may not be ashamed of my tent, for
within it shall the Archbishop of Treves meet me in conference. Have the
tent made ready as soon as possible, for I know not the day I may need
it, and in the building of it let your fellow remember that the beauty
of a tent is that it bears transportation well, being not over bulky,
and that it is erected quickly and stands firmly in a storm."
Thus came the large tent, made in Cologne, to be placed on the heights
of Bieldenburg over the Moselle, with Meister Gerard himself
superintending its erection.
The floor had been constructed of flattened timber, bedded in the cement
used for the building of castles, which when hardened was more difficult
to break than the stones it bound together. Over this was laid Eastern
cloths, soft in touch to the foot, and pleasing in colour to the eye.
When the tent was erected, Meister Gerard waited eagerly until the sun
rose next morning, so that he might persuade Ambrose to ask the
Archbishop's criticism of the work now completed that he might thus
obtain an opportunity to speak with the great ecclesiastic, on whom the
architect felt his future depended. Gerard saw the envoys depart on
their mission to the castle, and, early as it was, he also saw Konrad
von Hochstaden, the monk Ambrose by his side, walking to and fro before
the Archbishop's residential tent. The great audience pavilion stood
alone, one end facing the east, as any erection intended for the use of
two Princes of the Church should stand. To the north of it was the
cluster of tents occupied by Konrad and the numerous attendants who
waited upon him. To the south was a similar village belonging to the
Archbishop of Treves, each village being at the point nearest the city
from which its master took his title. The trumpets were blaring before
Castle Thuron when Ambrose induced the Archbishop to inspect the new
tent. He stood within it and gazed about him, while the architect, near
by, waited for a word of approval or condemnation.
"You have given us no ornamentation," said Konrad at last.
"The ornamentation, my Lord, is largely in its correct proportion;
nevertheless, I have ventured on a touch of colour which may be seen, or
not, at your Lordship's pleasure."
"Let us behold it, then."
The architect gave a signal to two workmen who waited at the western end
of the tent, and they, by the pulling of cords, rolled up an inner
screen. There was disclosed a picture wrought in many coloured silks,
deftly sewn together, representing the arms of Cologne and Treves in
juxtaposition. The light shone through the scheme of colour from the
outside, and the richness of the painting stood out with the more
distinctness that the whole interior of the tent was of one subdued hue
of white.
"That is most ingenious," the Archbishop was pleased to say, to the
architect's gratification. "We will have it remain so."
"I have another picture on the eastern end as well," said Gerard. "Have
I your Lordship's permission to exhibit that also?"
"Surely, surely," answered Konrad, whereupon the two workmen walked the
length of the tent, and rolled up another screen similar to the first.
The result was most startling. The morning sun shone fully upon the
eastern end of the tent and imparted a glory to the rich colouring,
which gave the picture a brilliancy savouring more of Heaven than of
earth. The design represented a twin spired Cathedral, worked out in
the fullest detail, the spires encrusted with ornament, the beautiful
Gothic door between them being a model of correct proportion, yet of
immense size, the whole representation one on which the eye rested with
ever increasing delight, wonder, and admiration.
For some moments the Archbishop stood speechless before this marvel in
line and tint. At last he said:
"It is not possible that such a building actually exists and I have
never heard of it! Where is it?"
"Only in my brain, my Lord, but it may exist in Cologne, if your
Lordship so wills it."
"Ah!" The Archbishop drew a long sigh of supreme gratification. "Are you
sure you sold not your soul to the devil for this design, Meister
Gerard."
"I had hoped your Lordship would attribute the design to a higher
source. It was my belief that inspiration prompted the picture which
made me so persistent in trying to obtain permission from your Lordship
to exhibit to you the drawings. There will be no Cathedral like that of
Cologne in all the rest of the world, if this building is erected."
"You speak truly. Let down the curtain, and see that it is securely
fastened. The design cannot be seen from without, can it? I did not
notice it as I entered."
"No, my Lord, unless at night when the tent is lighted, and then only
when the curtain is raised."
"This curtain is not to be raised. No one must look upon this picture.
Have a new end made for this tent, and put in a drawing of Treves
Cathedral if you like, but this is to be seen by none. Meister Gerard,
you are the architect of Cologne Cathedral. He is to have a room in the
palace, Ambrose, and a fitting allowance: see to it. As soon as another
end is in place, get you back to Cologne and work upon your plans. Men
less inspired will attend to the fighting."
Therefore was the stay of Meister Gerard, architect of Cologne
Cathedral, of short duration in the neighbourhood of the Moselle.
The Archbishop was still in the tent when his envoy returned from the
mission to Castle Thuron, and reported there to his master the colloquy
that had taken place between Count Heinrich and Bertrich. Konrad von
Hochstaden frowned as he listened, and for a time pondered deeply in
silence over the information he had received. The architect and the
workmen were gone, and Archbishop, envoy and monk were alone in the
tent.
"You say that Count Bertrich attacked the castle as you departed. Are
any of my men in the fray?"
"No, my Lord. I urged Count Bertrich to postpone assault until you were
made acquainted with the result of our conference at the gate, but this
he refused to do. I then ordered your captain to hold aloof until he got
direct command from you."
"You did well. This Bertrich seems to act much on his own
responsibility; a hot-headed man, whom perhaps his master employs for
that very reason; if successful, the Archbishop may commend, and if
unsuccessful, disclaim. Is there a chance of capturing the castle
through his onslaught?"
"I could form no opinion thereon, not knowing how rigorously the place
may be defended."
"I must have some explanation from Arnold von Isenberg before the
question is decided. Ambrose, deliver greetings from me to the
Archbishop of Treves, and acquaint him with the fact that I await him
here, as there are matters of grave import to discuss."
The monk departed, and presently the Archbishop of Treves entered the
tent attended only by his secretary. After salutations had passed
between the two Princes, Konrad von Hochstaden began the discussion,
going directly to the heart of the matter, as was his fashion, for he
never imitated the round-about method of approaching a subject that so
much commended itself to his more subtle colleague.
"I am informed that Count Bertrich has attacked the castle, and is at
present engaged in its reduction, and this without waiting for
co-operation from my forces."
"If he has done so," replied Arnold suavely, "he has most gravely outrun
his instructions."
"He furthermore stated to the Count of Thuron that you had certain
powers granted you by the Emperor Rodolph. What is the nature of those
powers?"
"In that also is Count Bertrich wrong. I have never so much as seen the
Emperor Rodolph."
"You may, nevertheless, have had communication with him."
"I have had no communication with him."
"It seems strange that such a claim should have been put forward on your
behalf by your own envoy."
"I cannot account for it. Bertrich has not yet returned, but when he
does, I shall ask him for an explanation, and that in your presence. He
is a turbulent man, and a good fighter, but difficult to restrain. One
has to work with the tools that come to one's hands, and often the
service is ill-rendered, as seems to have been the case in this
instance."
As the Archbishop ceased speaking there arose cheer after cheer from
Castle Thuron, which caused all present to listen intently, and for a
short time nothing further was said. It was his Lordship of Cologne who
first broke silence.
"Those cries are too near at hand to betoken victory for Count Bertrich.
Perhaps it may be well to send him reinforcements."
"No," said Treves. "This action has been begun without my sanction, and
Bertrich must conduct it as best he can. He has the demerit of being
over-confident, and a check, while not affecting the final result, may
make him the easier to reason with, and prevent the recurrence of such
hasty unauthorised action."
"You take it coolly. I confess I would learn with some impatience that
my troops were being over-borne, and my first impulse would be to send
assistance."
"Your action would be natural and creditable to you, but there is more
at stake than the issue of a mêlée. I find myself unexpectedly put on
the defensive, and have no reply to make beyond giving you my simple
word. I know no more than you do what has happened, and have had, as
yet, no account of the parley with the occupier of Thuron. It is
necessary there should be complete confidence between you and me, and I
regret that in the very beginning of our united action, suspicion should
be engendered in your mind. If Bertrich captures Thuron, he mistakes me
much if he thinks that the bringing thither of the Black Count will
compensate for the shadow he has cast on my good faith with you.
Therefore I propose to await his coming, and I shall be most gratified
to have you question him before he has had word with me, either in my
presence, or in my absence, as best pleases you."
The candour of Arnold von Isenberg made an evident impression on his
suspicious colleague, who said after a pause:
"Yes, there must be confidence or our united action will be futile.
There are our arms, side by side, on the end of this tent, facing the
stronghold which we expect to reduce. Our several motives should be as
plainly in sight to each other, which is my excuse for speaking thus
openly to you, rather than cherishing secret distrust."
The sentence was strangely interrupted. The cheering had for some time
ceased, and now through the arms of Treves, blazoned on the wall, there
came, with a sound of tearing cloth, the huge round stone shot from the
catapult. It fell with a resounding crash on the floor and rolled
between the two Electors, who both started back with dismay on their
faces. The silk and canvas hung in tatters, and showed beyond a bit of
the blue and peaceful sky. The Archbishop of Cologne devoutly crossed
himself, but his comrade of Treves looked alternately at the rent, and
at the great missile that caused it, like one stupefied.
"If I believed in portents," said the Archbishop of Cologne in the
uncertain voice of one who did so believe, "that might have seemed an
unlucky omen."
The Lord of Treves, recovering himself, shrugged his shoulders.
"It is but a chance shot, and the rending of a bit of painted cloth. I
shall send flag of truce to Heinrich and ask him to deal us no more of
these pleasant surprises. If he refuses, then must our encampment be
removed further from the castle, while we shall place some catapults
here and return his favours to him, so I have little doubt he will
consent to leave us unmolested."
As he finished speaking there entered to them Count Bertrich, his face
flushed with anger, but his demeanour in a measure crestfallen. He bowed
to each Prince of the Church, and stood there silent, wincing under the
lowering indignant gaze bestowed on him by his imperious master.