Count Spaur gave the required permission, and Bremen began to protest against Mentz & Co.
"I beg to remark, that the electoral envoys have spread out their red cloaks over the backs of the chairs, in such a way as to conceal the green covering entirely from view."
"It is exceedingly warm in the hall," replied electoral Cologne; "we were compelled to throw off our cloaks."
"Why, then, did the electoral envoys wear their cloaks?" was the inquiry of the other side.
"Because we had a right to wear them hither, and violate no compact by throwing them over our chairs."
"But the electoral envoys had no right to use them as upholstery," objected Bremen, in tragic tones. "They have now the appearance of being seated on red arm-chairs."
"So much the better," replied Cologne. "If accident has re- established our rights of precedence, nobody has any business to complain." [Footnote: Historical. See Putter.]
This declaration was received with a burst of indignation, and the princely envoys rose simultaneously from their seats. A noisy and angry debate ensued, at the conclusion of which the offended party declared that they would rest every leg of their chairs upon the carpet; and, as if at the word of command, every man dragged his arm-chair most unequivocally forward, and surveyed the enemy with dogged defiance.
There was now a commotion on the side of the electorals, in the midst of which Count Spaur, in perfect despair, cried out at the top of his voice:
"In the name of the emperor, I demand, on both sides, the literal fulfilment of your conditions. The electoral ambassadors must withdraw their red cloaks from the backs of their chairs, and throw them over the arms, and the other envoys must draw back their chairs until the hind-legs thereof are on the floor."