Complete Works of Bram Stoker (375 page)

The church was arranged much after the fashion of Westminster Abbey for the coronation of King Edward VII., though, of course, not so many persons present, nor so much individual splendour.  Indeed, the number of those present, outside those officially concerned and the Press of the world, was very few.

The most striking figure present  —  next to King Rupert, who is seven feet high and a magnificent man  —  was the Queen Consort, Teuta.  She sat in front of a small gallery erected for the purpose just opposite the throne.  She is a strikingly beautiful woman, tall and finely-formed, with jet-black hair and eyes like black diamonds, but with the unique quality that there are stars in them which seem to take varied colour according to each strong emotion.  But it was not even her beauty or the stars in her eyes which drew the first glance of all.  These details showed on scrutiny, but from afar off the attractive point was her dress.  Surely never before did woman, be she Queen or peasant, wear such a costume on a festive occasion.

She was dressed in a white
Shroud
, and in that only.  I had heard something of the story which goes behind that strange costume, and shall later on send it to you.

When the procession entered the church through the great western door, the national song of the Blue Mountains, “Guide our feet through darkness, O Jehovah,” was sung by an unseen choir, in which the organ, supplemented by martial instruments, joined.  The Archbishop was robed in readiness before the altar, and close around him stood the Archimandrites of the four great monasteries.  The Vladika stood in front of the Members of the National Council.  A little to one side of this body was a group of high officials, Presidents of the Councils of National Law and Justice, the Chancellor, etc.  —  all in splendid robes of great antiquity  —  the High Marshall of the Forces and the Lord high Admiral.

When all was ready for the ceremonial act of coronation, the Archbishop raised his hand, whereupon the music ceased.  Turning around, so that he faced the Queen, who thereon stood up, the King drew his handjar and saluted her in Blue Mountain fashion  —  the point raised as high possible, and then dropped down till it almost touches the ground.  Every man in the church, ecclesiastics and all, wear the handjar, and, following the King by the interval of a second, their weapons flashed out.  There was something symbolic, as well as touching, in this truly royal salute, led by the King.  His handjar is a mighty blade, and held high in the hands of a man of his stature, it overtowered everything in the church.  It was an inspiriting sight.  No one who saw will ever forget that noble flashing of blades in the thousand-year-old salute . . .

The coronation was short, simple, and impressive.  Rupert knelt whilst the Archbishop, after a short, fervent prayer, placed on his head the bronze crown of the first King of the Blue Mountains, Peter.  This was handed to him by the Vladika, to whom it was brought from the National Treasury by a procession of the high officers.  A blessing of the new King and his Queen Teuta concluded the ceremony.  Rupert’s first act on rising from his knees was to draw his handjar and salute his people.

After the ceremony in St. Sava, the procession was reformed, and took its way to the Castle of Vissarion, which is some distance off across a picturesque creek, bounded on either side by noble cliffs of vast height.  The King led the way, the Queen walking with him and holding his hand . . . The Castle of Vissarion is of great antiquity, and picturesque beyond belief.  I am sending later on, as a special article, a description of it . . .

The “Coronation Feast,” as it was called on the menu, was held in the Great Hall, which is of noble proportions.  I enclose copy of the menu, as our readers may wish to know something of the details of such a feast in this part of the world.

One feature of the banquet was specially noticeable.  As the National Officials were guests of the King and Queen, they were waited on and served by the King and Queen in person.  The rest of the guests, including us of the Press, were served by the King’s household, not the servants  —  none of that cult were visible  —  but by the ladies and gentlemen of the Court.

There was only one toast, and that was given by the King, all standing: “The Land of the Blue Mountains, and may we all do our duty to the Land we love!”  Before drinking, his mighty handjar flashed out again, and in an instant every table at which the Blue Mountaineers sat was ringed with flashing steel.  I may add parenthetically that the handjar is essentially the national weapon.  I do not know if the Blue Mountaineers take it to bed with them, but they certainly wear it everywhere else.  Its drawing seems to emphasise everything in national life . . .

We embarked again on the warships  —  one a huge, steel-plated Dreadnought, up to date in every particular, the other an armoured yacht most complete in every way, and of unique speed.  The King and Queen, the Lords of the Council, together with the various high ecclesiastics and great officials, went on the yacht, which the Lord High Admiral, a man of remarkably masterful physiognomy, himself steered.  The rest of those present at the Coronation came on the warship.  The latter went fast, but the yacht showed her heels all the way.  However, the King’s party waited in the dock in the Blue Mouth.  From this a new cable-line took us all to the State House at Plazac.  Here the procession was reformed, and wound its way to a bare hill in the immediate vicinity.  The King and Queen  —  the King still wearing the ancient bronze crown with which the Archbishop had invested him at St. Sava’s  —  the Archbishop, the Vladika, and the four Archimandrites stood together at the top of the hill, the King and Queen being, of course, in the front.  A courteous young gentleman, to whom I had been accredited at the beginning of the day  —  all guests were so attended  —  explained to me that, as this was the national as opposed to the religious ceremony, the Vladika, who is the official representative of the laity, took command here.  The ecclesiastics were put prominently forward, simply out of courtesy, in obedience to the wish of the people, by whom they were all greatly beloved.

Then commenced another unique ceremony, which, indeed, might well find a place in our Western countries.  As far as ever we could see were masses of men roughly grouped, not in any uniform, but all in national costume, and armed only with the handjar.  In the front of each of these groups or bodies stood the National Councillor for that district, distinguishable by his official robe and chain.  There were in all seventeen of these bodies.  These were unequal in numbers, some of them predominating enormously over others, as, indeed, might be expected in so mountainous a country.  In all there were present, I was told, over a hundred thousand men.  So far as I can judge from long experience of looking at great bodies of men, the estimate was a just one.  I was a little surprised to see so many, for the population of the Blue Mountains is never accredited in books of geography as a large one.  When I made inquiry as to how the frontier guard was being for the time maintained, I was told:

“By the women mainly.  But, all the same, we have also a male guard which covers the whole frontier except that to seaward.  Each man has with him six women, so that the whole line is unbroken.  Moreover, sir, you must bear in mind that in the Blue Mountains our women are trained to arms as well as our men  —  ay, and they could give a good account of themselves, too, against any foe that should assail us.  Our history shows what women can do in defence.  I tell you, the Turkish population would be bigger to-day but for the women who on our frontier fought of old for defence of their homes!”

“No wonder this nation has kept her freedom for a thousand years!” I said.

At a signal given by the President of the National Council one of the Divisions moved forwards.  It was not an ordinary movement, but an intense rush made with all the
elan
and vigour of hardy and highly-trained men.  They came on, not merely at the double, but as if delivering an attack.  Handjar in hand, they rushed forward.  I can only compare their rush to an artillery charge or to an attack of massed cavalry battalions.  It was my fortune to see the former at Magenta and the latter at Sadowa, so that I know what such illustration means.  I may also say that I saw the relief column which Roberts organised rush through a town on its way to relieve Mafeking; and no one who had the delight of seeing that inspiring progress of a flying army on their way to relieve their comrades needs to be told what a rush of armed men can be.  With speed which was simply desperate they ran up the hill, and, circling to the left, made a ring round the topmost plateau, where stood the King.  When the ring was complete, the stream went on lapping round and round till the whole tally was exhausted.  In the meantime another Division had followed, its leader joining close behind the end of the first.  Then came another and another.  An unbroken line circled and circled round the hill in seeming endless array, till the whole slopes were massed with moving men, dark in colour, and with countless glittering points everywhere.  When the whole of the Divisions had thus surrounded the King, there was a moment’s hush  —  a silence so still that it almost seemed as if Nature stood still also.  We who looked on were almost afraid to breathe.

Then suddenly, without, so far as I could see, any fugleman or word of command, the handjars of all that mighty array of men flashed upward as one, and like thunder pealed the National cry:

“The Blue Mountains and Duty!”

After the cry there was a strange subsidence which made the onlooker rub his eyes.  It seemed as though the whole mass of fighting men had partially sunk into the ground.  Then the splendid truth burst upon us  —  the whole nation was kneeling at the feet of their chosen King, who stood upright.

Another moment of silence, as King Rupert, taking off his crown, held it up in his left hand, and, holding his great handjar high in his right, cried in a voice so strong that it came ringing over that serried mass like a trumpet:

“To Freedom of our Nation, and to Freedom within it, I dedicate these and myself.  I swear!”

So saying, he, too, sank on his knees, whilst we all instinctively uncovered.

The silence which followed lasted several seconds; then, without a sign, as though one and all acted instinctively, the whole body stood up.  Thereupon was executed a movement which, with all my experience of soldiers and war, I never saw equalled  —  not with the Russian Royal Guard saluting the Czar at his Coronation, not with an impi of Cetewayo’s Zulus whirling through the opening of a kraal.

For a second or two the whole mass seemed to writhe or shudder, and then, lo! the whole District Divisions were massed again in completeness, its Councillors next the King, and the Divisions radiating outwards down the hill like wedges.

This completed the ceremony, and everything broke up into units.  Later, I was told by my official friend that the King’s last movement  —  the oath as he sank to his knees  —  was an innovation of his own.  All I can say is, if, in the future, and for all time, it is not taken for a precedent, and made an important part of the Patriotic Coronation ceremony, the Blue Mountaineers will prove themselves to be a much more stupid people than they seem at present to be.

The conclusion of the Coronation festivities was a time of unalloyed joy.  It was the banquet given to the King and Queen by the nation; the guests of the nation were included in the royal party.  It was a unique ceremony.  Fancy a picnic-party of a hundred thousand persons, nearly all men.  There must have been made beforehand vast and elaborate preparations, ramifying through the whole nation.  Each section had brought provisions sufficient for their own consumption in addition to several special dishes for the guest-tables; but the contribution of each section was not consumed by its own members.

It was evidently a part of the scheme that all should derive from a common stock, so that the feeling of brotherhood and common property should be preserved in this monumental fashion.

The guest-tables were the only tables to be seen.  The bulk of the feasters sat on the ground.  The tables were brought forward by the men themselves  —  no such thing as domestic service was known on this day  —  from a wood close at hand, where they and the chairs had been placed in readiness.  The linen and crockery used had been sent for the purpose from the households of every town and village.  The flowers were plucked in the mountains early that morning by the children, and the gold and silver plate used for adornment were supplied from the churches.  Each dish at the guest-tables was served by the men of each section in turn.

Over the whole array seemed to be spread an atmosphere of joyousness, of peace, of brotherhood.  It would be impossible to adequately describe that amazing scene, a whole nation of splendid men surrounding their new King and Queen, loving to honour and serve them.  Scattered about through that vast crowd were groups of musicians, chosen from amongst themselves.  The space covered by this titanic picnic was so vast that there were few spots from which you could hear music proceeding from different quarters.

After dinner we all sat and smoked; the music became rather vocal than instrumental  —  indeed, presently we did not hear the sound of any instrument at all.  Only knowing a few words of Balkan, I could not follow the meanings of the songs, but I gathered that they were all legendary or historical.  To those who could understand, as I was informed by my tutelary young friend, who stayed beside me the whole of this memorable day, we were listening to the history of the Land of the Blue Mountains in ballad form.  Somewhere or other throughout that vast concourse each notable record of ten centuries was being told to eager ears.

It was now late in the day.  Slowly the sun had been dropping down over the Calabrian Mountains, and the glamorous twilight was stealing over the immediate scene.  No one seemed to notice the coming of the dark, which stole down on us with an unspeakable mystery.  For long we sat still, the clatter of many tongues becoming stilled into the witchery of the scene.  Lower the sun sank, till only the ruddiness of the afterglow lit the expanse with rosy light; then this failed in turn, and the night shut down quickly.