Complete Works of Bram Stoker (374 page)

“Therefore on all accounts, my brothers, for the sake of our dear Land of the Blue Mountains, make the Gospodar Rupert, who has so proved himself, your King.  And make me happy in my retirement to the cloister.”

When the Voivode ceased to speak, all still remained silent and standing.  But there was no mistaking their acquiescence in his most generous prayer.  The President of the Council well interpreted the general wish when he said:

“Lords of the National Council, Archbishop, Vladika, Lords of the Councils of Justice and National Law, Archimandrites, and all who are present, is it agreed that we prepare at leisure a fitting reply to the Voivode Peter of the historic House of Vissarion, stating our agreement with his wish?”

To which there was a unanimous answer:

“It is.”  He went on:

“Further.  Shall we ask the Gospodar Rupert of the House of Sent Leger, allied through his marriage to the Voivodin Teuta, daughter and only child of the Voivode Peter of Vissarion, to come hither to-morrow?  And that, when he is amongst us, we confer on him the Crown and Kingship of the Land of the Blue Mountains?”

Again came the answer: “It is.”

But this time it rang out like the sound of a gigantic trumpet, and the handjars flashed.

Whereupon the session was adjourned for the space of a day.

THE SAME  — 
Continued
.

September
10, 1907.

When the National Council met to-day the Voivode Peter Vissarion sat with them, but well back, so that at first his presence was hardly noticeable.  After the necessary preliminaries had been gone through, they requested the presence of the Gospodar Rupert  —  Mr. Rupert Sent Leger  —  who was reported as waiting in the “Chamber of the High Officers.”  He at once accompanied back to the Hall the deputation sent to conduct him.  As he made his appearance in the doorway the Councillors stood up.  There was a burst of enthusiasm, and the handjars flashed.  For an instant he stood silent, with lifted hand, as though indicating that he wished to speak.  So soon as this was recognised, silence fell on the assembly, and he spoke:

“I pray you, may the Voivodin Teuta of Vissarion, who has accompanied me hither, appear with me to hear your wishes?”  There was an immediate and enthusiastic acquiescence, and, after bowing his thanks, he retired to conduct her.

Her appearance was received with an ovation similar to that given to Gospodar Rupert, to which she bowed with dignified sweetness.  She, with her husband, was conducted to the top of the Hall by the President, who came down to escort them.  In the meantime another chair had been placed beside that prepared for the Gospodar, and these two sat.

The President then made the formal statement conveying to the “Gospodar Rupert” the wishes of the Council, on behalf of the nation, to offer to him the Crown and Kingship of the Land of the Blue Mountains.  The message was couched in almost the same words as had been used the previous day in making the offer to the Voivode Peter Vissarion, only differing to meet the special circumstances.  The Gospodar Rupert listened in grave silence.  The whole thing was manifestly quite new to him, but he preserved a self-control wonderful under the circumstances.  When, having been made aware of the previous offer to the Voivode and the declared wish of the latter, he rose to speak, there was stillness in the Hall.  He commenced with a few broken words of thanks; then he grew suddenly and strangely calm as he went on:

“But before I can even attempt to make a fitting reply, I should know if it is contemplated to join with me in this great honour my dear wife the Voivodin Teuta of Vissarion, who has so splendidly proved her worthiness to hold any place in the government of the Land.  I fain would . . . ”

He was interrupted by the Voivodin, who, standing up beside him and holding his left arm, said:

“Do not, President, and Lords all, think me wanting in that respect of a wife for husband which in the Blue Mountains we hold so dear, if I venture to interrupt my lord.  I am here, not merely as a wife, but as Voivodin of Vissarion, and by the memory of all the noble women of that noble line I feel constrained to a great duty.  We women of Vissarion, in all the history of centuries, have never put ourselves forward in rivalry of our lords.  Well I know that my own dear lord will forgive me as wife if I err; but I speak to you, the Council of the nation, from another ground and with another tongue.  My lord does not, I fear, know as you do, and as I do too, that of old, in the history of this Land, when Kingship was existent, that it was ruled by that law of masculine supremacy which, centuries after, became known as the
Lex Salica
.  Lords of the Council of the Blue Mountains, I am a wife of the Blue Mountains  —  as a wife young as yet, but with the blood of forty generations of loyal women in my veins.  And it would ill become me, whom my husband honours  —  wife to the man whom you would honour  —  to take a part in changing the ancient custom which has been held in honour for all the thousand years, which is the glory of Blue Mountain womanhood.  What an example such would be in an age when self-seeking women of other nations seek to forget their womanhood in the struggle to vie in equality with men!  Men of the Blue Mountains, I speak for our women when I say that we hold of greatest price the glory of our men.  To be their companions is our happiness; to be their wives is the completion of our lives; to be mothers of their children is our share of the glory that is theirs.

“Therefore, I pray you, men of the Blue Mountains, let me but be as any other wife in our land, equal to them in domestic happiness, which is our woman’s sphere; and if that priceless honour may be vouchsafed to me, and I be worthy and able to bear it, an exemplar of woman’s rectitude.”  With a low, modest, graceful bow, she sat down.

There was no doubt as to the reception of her renunciation of Queenly dignity.  There was more honour to her in the quick, fierce shout which arose, and the unanimous upward swing of the handjars, than in the wearing of any crown which could adorn the head of woman.

The spontaneous action of the Gospodar Rupert was another source of joy to all  —  a fitting corollary to what had gone before.  He rose to his feet, and, taking his wife in his arms, kissed her before all.  Then they sat down, with their chairs close, bashfully holding hands like a pair of lovers.

Then Rupert arose  —  he is Rupert now; no lesser name is on the lips of his people henceforth.  With an intense earnestness which seemed to glow in his face, he said simply:

“What can I say except that I am in all ways, now and for ever, obedient to your wishes?”  Then, raising his handjar and holding it before him, he kissed the hilt, saying:

“Hereby I swear to be honest and just  —  to be, God helping me, such a King as you would wish  —  in so far as the strength is given me.  Amen.”

This ended the business of the Session, and the Council showed unmeasured delight.  Again and again the handjars flashed, as the cheers rose “three times three” in British fashion.

When Rupert  —  I am told I must not write him down as “King Rupert” until after the formal crowning, which is ordained for Wednesday, October 16th,  —  and Teuta had withdrawn, the Voivode Peter Vissarion, the President and Council conferred in committee with the Presidents of the High Courts of National Law and of Justice as to the formalities to be observed in the crowning of the King, and of the formal notification to be given to foreign Powers.  These proceedings kept them far into the night.

FROM “
The London Messenger
.”

Coronation Festivities of the Blue Mountains.

(
From our Special Correspondent
.)

Plazac,
October
14, 1907.

As I sat down to a poorly-equipped luncheon-table on board the Austro-Orient liner
Franz Joseph
, I mourned in my heart (and I may say incidentally in other portions of my internal economy) the comfort and gastronomic luxury of the King and Emperor Hotel at Trieste.  A brief comparison between the menus of to-day’s lunch and yesterday’s will afford to the reader a striking object-lesson:

Trieste
.

Steamer
.

Eggs à la cocotte.

Scrambled eggs on toast.

Stewed chicken, with paprika.

Cold chicken.

Devilled slices of Westphalian ham  (boiled in wine).

Cold ham.

Tunny fish, pickled.

Bismarck herrings.

Rice, burst in cream.

Stewed apples.

Guava jelly.

Swiss cheese.

Consequence: Yesterday I was well and happy, and looked forward to a good night’s sleep, which came off.  To-day I am dull and heavy, also restless, and I am convinced that at sleeping-time my liver will have it all its own way.

The journey to Ragusa, and thence to Plazac, is writ large with a pigment of misery on at least one human heart.  Let a silence fall upon it!  In such wise only can Justice and Mercy join hands.

Plazac is a miserable place.  There is not a decent hotel in it.  It was perhaps on this account that the new King, Rupert, had erected for the alleged convenience of his guests of the Press a series of large temporary hotels, such as were in evidence at the St. Louis Exposition.  Here each guest was given a room to himself, somewhat after the nature of the cribs in a Rowton house.  From my first night in it I am able to speak from experience of the sufferings of a prisoner of the third class.  I am, however, bound to say that the dining and reception rooms were, though uncomfortably plain, adequate for temporary use.  Happily we shall not have to endure many more meals here, as to-morrow we all dine with the King in the State House; and as the cuisine is under the control of that
cordon bleu
, Gaston de Faux Pas, who so long controlled the gastronomic (we might almost say Gastonomic) destinies of the Rois des Diamants in the Place Vendôme, we may, I think, look forward to not going to bed hungry.  Indeed, the anticipations formed from a survey of our meagre sleeping accommodation were not realised at dinnertime to-night.  To our intense astonishment, an excellent dinner was served, though, to be sure, the cold dishes predominated (a thing I always find bad for one’s liver).  Just as we were finishing, the King (nominated) came amongst us in quite an informal way, and, having bidden us a hearty welcome, asked that we should drink a glass of wine together.  This we did in an excellent (if rather sweet) glass of Cliquot ‘93.  King Rupert (nominated) then asked us to resume our seats.  He walked between the tables, now and again recognising some journalistic friend whom he had met early in life in his days of adventure.  The men spoken to seemed vastly pleased  —  with themselves probably.  Pretty bad form of them, I call it!  For myself, I was glad I had not previously met him in the same casual way, as it saved me from what I should have felt a humiliation  —  the being patronized in that public way by a prospective King who had not (in a Court sense) been born.  The writer, who is by profession a barrister-at-law, is satisfied at being himself a county gentleman and heir to an historic estate in the ancient county of Salop, which can boast a larger population than the Land of the Blue Mountains.

Editorial Note.  —  We must ask our readers to pardon the report in yesterday’s paper sent from Plazac.  The writer was not on our regular staff, but asked to be allowed to write the report, as he was a kinsman of King Rupert of the Blue Mountains, and would therefore be in a position to obtain special information and facilities of description “from inside,” as he puts it.  On reading the paper, we cabled his recall; we cabled also, in case he did not obey, to have his ejectment effected forthwith.

We have also cabled Mr. Mordred Booth, the well-known correspondent, who was, to our knowledge, in Plazac for his own purposes, to send us full (and proper) details.  We take it our readers will prefer a graphic account of the ceremony to a farrago of cheap menus, comments on his own liver, and a belittling of an Englishman of such noble character and achievements that a rising nation has chosen him for their King, and one whom our own nation loves to honour.  We shall not, of course, mention our abortive correspondent’s name, unless compelled thereto by any future utterance of his.

FROM “
The London Messenger
.”

The Coronation of King Rupert of the Blue Mountains.

(
By our Special Correspondent
,
Mordred Booth
.)

Plazac,
October
17, 1907.

Plazac does not boast of a cathedral or any church of sufficient dimensions for a coronation ceremony on an adequate scale.  It was therefore decided by the National Council, with the consent of the King, that it should be held at the old church of St. Sava at Vissarion  —  the former home of the Queen.  Accordingly, arrangements had been made to bring thither on the warships on the morning of the coronation the whole of the nation’s guests.  In St. Sava’s the religious ceremony would take place, after which there would be a banquet in the Castle of Vissarion.  The guests would then return on the warships to Plazac, where would be held what is called here the “National Coronation.”

In the Land of the Blue Mountains it was customary in the old days, when there were Kings, to have two ceremonies  —  one carried out by the official head of the national Church, the Greek Church; the other by the people in a ritual adopted by themselves, on much the same basis as the Germanic Folk-Moot.  The Blue Mountains is a nation of strangely loyal tendencies.  What was a thousand years ago is to be to-day  —  so far, of course, as is possible under the altered condition of things.

The church of St. Sava is very old and very beautiful, built in the manner of old Greek churches, full of monuments of bygone worthies of the Blue Mountains.  But, of course, neither it nor the ceremony held in it to-day can compare in splendour with certain other ceremonials  —  for instance, the coronation of the penultimate Czar in Moscow, of Alfonso XII. in Madrid, of Carlos I. in Lisbon.