Complete Works of Bram Stoker (376 page)

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 emphasised 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.

BOOK IX: BALKA

RUPERT’S JOURNAL  — 
Continued
(
Longe Intervallo
).

February
10, 1908.

It is so long since I even thought of this journal that I hardly know where to begin.  I always heard that a married man is a pretty busy man; but since I became one, though it is a new life to me, and of a happiness undreamt of, I
know
what that life is.  But I had no idea that this King business was anything like what it is.  Why, it never leaves me a moment at all to myself  —  or, what is worse, to Teuta.  If people who condemn Kings had only a single month of my life in that capacity, they would form an opinion different from that which they hold.  It might be useful to have a Professor of Kingship in the Anarchists’ College  —  whenever it is founded!

Everything has gone on well with us, I am glad to say.  Teuta is in splendid health, though she has  —  but only very lately  —  practically given up going on her own aeroplane.  It was, I know, a great sacrifice to make, just as she had become an expert at it.  They say here that she is one of the best drivers in the Blue Mountains  —  and that is in the world, for we have made that form of movement our own.  Ever since we found the pitch-blende pockets in the Great Tunnel, and discovered the simple process of extracting the radium from it, we have gone on by leaps and bounds.  When first Teuta told me she would “aero” no more for a while, I thought she was wise, and backed her up in it: for driving an aeroplane is trying work and hard on the nerves.  I only learned then the reason for her caution  —  the usual one of a young wife.  That was three months ago, and only this morning she told me she would not go sailing in the air, even with me, till she could do so “without risk”  —  she did not mean risk to herself.  Aunt Janet knew what she meant, and counselled her strongly to stick to her resolution.  So for the next few months I am to do my air-sailing alone.

The public works which we began immediately after the Coronation are going strong.  We began at the very beginning on an elaborate system.  The first thing was to adequately fortify the Blue Mouth.  Whilst the fortifications were being constructed we kept all the warships in the gulf.  But when the point of safety was reached, we made the ships do sentry-go along the coast, whilst we trained men for service at sea.  It is our plan to take by degrees all the young men and teach them this wise, so that at the end the whole population shall be trained for sea as well as for land.  And as we are teaching them the airship service, too, they will be at home in all the elements  —  except fire, of course, though if that should become a necessity, we shall tackle it too!

We started the Great Tunnel at the farthest inland point of the Blue Mouth, and ran it due east at an angle of 45 degrees, so that, when complete, it would go right through the first line of hills, coming out on the plateau Plazac.  The plateau is not very wide  —  half a mile at most  —  and the second tunnel begins on the eastern side of it.  This new tunnel is at a smaller angle, as it has to pierce the second hill  —  a mountain this time.  When it comes out on the east side of that, it will tap the real productive belt.  Here it is that our hardwood-trees are finest, and where the greatest mineral deposits are found.  This plateau is of enormous length, and runs north arid south round the great bulk of the central mountain, so that in time, when we put up a circular railway, we can bring, at a merely nominal cost, all sorts of material up or down.  It is on this level that we have built the great factories for war material.  We are tunnelling into the mountains, where are the great deposits of coal.  We run the trucks in and out on the level, and can get perfect ventilation with little cost or labour.  Already we are mining all the coal which we consume within our own confines, and we can, if we wish, within a year export largely.  The great slopes of these tunnels give us the necessary aid of specific gravity, and as we carry an endless water-supply in great tubes that way also, we can do whatever we wish by hydraulic power.  As one by one the European and Asiatic nations began to reduce their war preparations, we took over their disbanded workmen though our agents, so that already we have a productive staff of skilled workmen larger than anywhere else in the world.  I think myself that we were fortunate in being able to get ahead so fast with our preparations for war manufacture, for if some of the “Great Powers,” as they call themselves, knew the measure of our present production, they would immediately try to take active measures against us.  In such case we should have to fight them, which would delay us.  But if we can have another year untroubled, we shall, so far as war material is concerned, be able to defy any nation in the world.  And if the time may only come peacefully till we have our buildings and machinery complete, we can prepare war-stores and implements for the whole Balkan nations.  And then  —  But that is a dream.  We shall know in good time.

In the meantime all goes well.  The cannon foundries are built and active.  We are already beginning to turn out finished work.  Of course, our first guns are not very large, but they are good.  The big guns, and especially siege-guns, will come later.  And when the great extensions are complete, and the boring and wire-winding machines are in working order, we can go merrily on.  I suppose that by that time the whole of the upper plateau will be like a manufacturing town  —  at any rate, we have plenty of raw material to hand.  The haematite mines seem to be inexhaustible, and as the raising of the ore is cheap and easy by means of our extraordinary water-power, and as coal comes down to the plateau by its own gravity on the cable-line, we have natural advantages which exist hardly anywhere else in the world  —  certainly not all together, as here.  That bird’s eye view of the Blue Mouth which we had from the aeroplane when Teuta saw that vision of the future has not been in vain.  The aeroplane works are having a splendid output.  The aeroplane is a large and visible product; there is no mistaking when it is there!  We have already a large and respectable aerial fleet.  The factories for explosives are, of course, far away in bare valleys, where accidental effects are minimized.  So, too, are the radium works, wherein unknown dangers may lurk.  The turbines in the tunnel give us all the power we want at present, and, later on, when the new tunnel, which we call the “water tunnel,” which is already begun, is complete, the available power will be immense.  All these works are bringing up our shipping, and we are in great hopes for the future.

So much for our material prosperity.  But with it comes a larger life and greater hopes.  The stress of organising and founding these great works is practically over.  As they are not only self-supporting, but largely productive, all anxiety in the way of national expenditure is minimized.  And, more than all, I am able to give my unhampered attention to those matters of even more than national importance on which the ultimate development, if not the immediate strength, of our country must depend.

I am well into the subject of a great Balkan Federation.  This, it turns out, has for long been the dream of Teuta’s life, as also that of the present Archimandrite of Plazac, her father, who, since I last touched this journal, having taken on himself a Holy Life, was, by will of the Church, the Monks, and the People, appointed to that great office on the retirement of Petrof Vlastimir.

Such a Federation had long been in the air.  For myself, I had seen its inevitableness from the first.  The modern aggressions of the Dual Nation, interpreted by her past history with regard to Italy, pointed towards the necessity of such a protective measure.  And now, when Servia and Bulgaria were used as blinds to cover her real movements to incorporate with herself as established the provinces, once Turkish, which had been entrusted to her temporary protection by the Treaty of Berlin; when it would seem that Montenegro was to be deprived for all time of the hope of regaining the Bocche di Cattaro, which she had a century ago won, and held at the point of the sword, until a Great Power had, under a wrong conviction, handed it over to her neighbouring Goliath; when the Sandjack of Novi-Bazar was threatened with the fate which seemed to have already overtaken Bosnia and Herzegovina; when gallant little Montenegro was already shut out from the sea by the octopus-like grip of Dalmatia crouching along her western shore; when Turkey was dwindling down to almost ineptitude; when Greece was almost a byword, and when Albania as a nation  —  though still nominally subject  —  was of such unimpaired virility that there were great possibilities of her future, it was imperative that something must happen if the Balkan race was not to be devoured piecemeal by her northern neighbours.  To the end of ultimate protection I found most of them willing to make defensive alliance.