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.
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. {2}
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 emphasize 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 organized 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.
At last, when we could just discern the faces close to us, a simultaneous
movement began. Lights began to flash out in places all over the
hillside. At first these seemed as tiny as glow-worms seen in a summer
wood, but by degrees they grew till the space was set with little circles
of light. These in turn grew and grew in both number and strength.
Flames began to leap out from piles of wood, torches were lighted and
held high. Then the music began again, softly at first, but then louder
as the musicians began to gather to the centre, where sat the King and
Queen. The music was wild and semi-barbaric, but full of sweet melody.
It somehow seemed to bring before us a distant past; one and all,
according to the strength of our imagination and the volume of our
knowledge, saw episodes and phases of bygone history come before us.
There was a wonderful rhythmic, almost choric, force in the time kept,
which made it almost impossible to sit still. It was an invitation to
the dance such as I had never before heard in any nation or at any time.
Then the lights began to gather round. Once more the mountaineers took
something of the same formation as at the crowning. Where the royal
party sat was a level mead, with crisp, short grass, and round it what
one might well call the Ring of the Nation was formed.
The music grew louder. Each mountaineer who had not a lit torch already
lighted one, and the whole rising hillside was a glory of light. The
Queen rose, and the King an instant after. As they rose men stepped
forward and carried away their chairs, or rather thrones. The Queen gave
the King her hand--this is, it seems, the privilege of the wife as
distinguished from any other woman. Their feet took the time of the
music, and they moved into the centre of the ring.
That dance was another thing to remember, won from the haunting memories
of that strange day. At first the King and Queen danced all alone. They
began with stately movement, but as the music quickened their feet kept
time, and the swing of their bodies with movements kept growing more and
more ecstatic at every beat till, in true Balkan fashion, the dance
became a very agony of passionate movement.
At this point the music slowed down again, and the mountaineers began to
join in the dance. At first slowly, one by one, they joined in, the
Vladika and the higher priests leading; then everywhere the whole vast
crowd began to dance, till the earth around us seemed to shake. The
lights quivered, flickered, blazed out again, and rose and fell as that
hundred thousand men, each holding a torch, rose and fell with the rhythm
of the dance. Quicker, quicker grew the music, faster grew the rushing
and pounding of the feet, till the whole nation seemed now in an ecstasy.
I stood near the Vladika, and in the midst of this final wildness I saw
him draw from his belt a short, thin flute; then he put it to his lips
and blew a single note--a fierce, sharp note, which pierced the volume of
sound more surely than would the thunder of a cannon-shot. On the
instant everywhere each man put his torch under his foot.
There was complete and immediate darkness, for the fires, which had by
now fallen low, had evidently been trodden out in the measure of the
dance. The music still kept in its rhythmic beat, but slower than it had
yet been. Little by little this beat was pointed and emphasized by the
clapping of hands--at first only a few, but spreading till everyone
present was beating hands to the slow music in the darkness. This lasted
a little while, during which, looking round, I noticed a faint light
beginning to steal up behind the hills. The moon was rising.
Again there came a note from the Vladika's flute--a single note, sweet
and subtle, which I can only compare with a note from a nightingale,
vastly increased in powers. It, too, won through the thunder of the
hand-claps, and on the second the sound ceased. The sudden stillness,
together with the darkness, was so impressive that we could almost hear
our hearts beating. And then came through the darkness the most
beautiful and impressive sound heard yet. That mighty concourse, without
fugleman of any sort, began, in low, fervent voice, to sing the National
Anthem. At first it was of so low tone as to convey the idea of a mighty
assembly of violinists playing with the mutes on. But it gradually rose
till the air above us seemed to throb and quiver. Each syllable--each
word--spoken in unison by the vast throng was as clearly enunciated as
though spoken by a single voice:
"Guide our feet through darkness, O Jehovah."
This anthem, sung out of full hearts, remains on our minds as the last
perfection of a perfect day. For myself, I am not ashamed to own that it
made me weep like a child. Indeed, I cannot write of it now as I would;
it unmans me so!
* * * * *
In the early morning, whilst the mountains were still rather grey than
blue, the cable-line took us to the Blue Mouth, where we embarked in the
King's yacht, The Lady, which took us across the Adriatic at a pace
which I had hitherto considered impossible. The King and Queen came to
the landing to see us off. They stood together at the right-hand side of
the red-carpeted gangway, and shook hands with each guest as he went on
board. The instant the last passenger had stepped on deck the gangway
was withdrawn. The Lord High Admiral, who stood on the bridge, raised
his hand, and we swept towards the mouth of the gulf. Of course, all
hats were off, and we cheered frantically. I can truly say that if King
Rupert and Queen Teuta should ever wish to found in the Blue Mountains a
colony of diplomatists and journalists, those who were their guests on
this great occasion will volunteer to a man. I think old Hempetch, who
is the doyen of English-speaking journalists, voiced our sentiments when
he said:
"May God bless them and theirs with every grace and happiness, and send
prosperity to the Land and the rule!" I think the King and Queen heard
us cheer, they turned to look at our flying ship again.