The Lady of the Shroud, Bram Stoker [most life changing books .txt] 📗

the States impinging on it would find it worth

while to make a considerable sacrifice to have it effected. To its

own integers it would offer a lasting settlement of interests which

at present conflicted, and a share in a new world-power. Each of

these integers would be absolutely self-governing and independent,

being only united for purposes of mutual good. I did not despair

that even Turkey and Greece, recognizing that benefit and safety

would ensue without the destruction or even minimizing of

individuality, would, sooner or later, come into the Federation. The

matter is already so far advanced that within a month the various

rulers of the States involved are to have a secret and informal

meeting. Doubtless some larger plan and further action will be then

evolved. It will be an anxious time for all in this zone—and

outside it—till this matter is all settled. In any case, the

manufacture of war material will go on until it is settled, one way

or another.

 

RUPERT’S JOURNAL—Continued.

March 6, 1908.

 

I breathe more freely. The meeting has taken place here at

Vissarion. Nominal cause of meeting: a hunting-party in the Blue

Mountains. Not any formal affair. Not a Chancellor or Secretary of

State or Diplomatist of any sort present. All headquarters. It was,

after all, a real hunting-party. Good sportsmen, plenty of game,

lots of beaters, everything organized properly, and an effective

tally of results. I think we all enjoyed ourselves in the matter of

sport; and as the political result was absolute unanimity of purpose

and intention, there could be no possible cause of complaint.

 

So it is all decided. Everything is pacific. There is not a

suggestion even of war, revolt, or conflicting purpose of any kind.

We all go on exactly as we are doing for another year, pursuing our

own individual objects, just as at present. But we are all to see

that in our own households order prevails. All that is supposed to

be effective is to be kept in good working order, and whatever is, at

present, not adequate to possibilities is to be made so. This is all

simply protective and defensive. We understand each other. But if

any hulking stranger should undertake to interfere in our domestic

concerns, we shall all unite on the instant to keep things as we wish

them to remain. We shall be ready. Alfred’s maxim of Peace shall be

once more exemplified. In the meantime the factories shall work

overtime in our own mountains, and the output shall be for the

general good of our special community—the bill to be settled

afterwards amicably. There can hardly be any difference of opinion

about that, as the others will be the consumers of our surplus

products. We are the producers, who produce for ourselves first, and

then for the limited market of those within the Ring. As we

undertake to guard our own frontiers—sea and land—and are able to

do so, the goods are to be warehoused in the Blue Mountains until

required—if at all—for participation in the markets of the world,

and especially in the European market. If all goes well and the

markets are inactive, the goods shall be duly delivered to the

purchasers as arranged.

 

So much for the purely mercantile aspect.

 

THE VOIVODIN JANET MACKELPIE’S NOTES.

May 21, 1908.

 

As Rupert began to neglect his Journal when he was made a King, so,

too, I find in myself a tendency to leave writing to other people.

But one thing I shall not be content to leave to others—little

Rupert. The baby of Rupert and Teuta is much too precious a thing to

be spoken of except with love, quite independent of the fact that he

will be, in natural course, a King! So I have promised Teuta that

whatever shall be put into this record of the first King of the Sent

Leger Dynasty relating to His Royal Highness the Crown Prince shall

only appear in either her hand or my own. And she has deputed the

matter to me.

 

Our dear little Prince arrived punctually and in perfect condition.

The angels that carried him evidently took the greatest care of him,

and before they left him they gave him dower of all their best. He

is a dear! Like both his father and his mother, and that says

everything. My own private opinion is that he is a born King! He

does not know what fear is, and he thinks more of everyone else than

he does of his dear little self. And if those things do not show a

truly royal nature, I do not know what does …

 

Teuta has read this. She held up a warning finger, and said:

 

“Aunt Janet dear, that is all true. He is a dear, and a King, and an

angel! But we mustn’t have too much about him just yet. This book

is to be about Rupert. So our little man can only be what we shall

call a corollary.” And so it is.

 

I should mention here that the book is Teuta’s idea. Before little

Rupert came she controlled herself wonderfully, doing only what was

thought best for her under the circumstances. As I could see that it

would be a help for her to have some quiet occupation which would

interest her without tiring her, I looked up (with his permission, of

course) all Rupert’s old letters and diaries, and journals and

reports—all that I had kept for him during his absences on his

adventures. At first I was a little afraid they might harm her, for

at times she got so excited over some things that I had to caution

her. Here again came in her wonderful self-control. I think the

most soothing argument I used with her was to point out that the dear

boy had come through all the dangers safely, and was actually with

us, stronger and nobler than ever.

 

After we had read over together the whole matter several times—for

it was practically new to me too, and I got nearly as excited as she

was, though I have known him so much longer—we came to the

conclusion that this particular volume would have to be of selected

matter. There is enough of Rupert’s work to make a lot of volumes

and we have an ambitious literary project of some day publishing an

edition de luxe of his whole collected works. It will be a rare

showing amongst the works of Kings. But this is to be all about

himself, so that in the future it may serve as a sort of backbone of

his personal history.

 

By-and-by we came to a part when we had to ask him questions; and he

was so interested in Teuta’s work—he is really bound up body and

soul in his beautiful wife, and no wonder—that we had to take him

into full confidence. He promised he would help us all he could by

giving us the use of his later journals, and such letters and papers

as he had kept privately. He said he would make one condition—I use

his own words: “As you two dear women are to be my editors, you must

promise to put in everything exactly as I wrote it. It will not do

to have any fake about this. I do not wish anything foolish or

egotistical toned down out of affection for me. It was all written

in sincerity, and if I had faults, they must not be hidden. If it is

to be history, it must be true history, even if it gives you and me

or any of us away.”

 

So we promised.

 

He also said that, as Sir Edward Bingham Trent, Bart.—as he is now—

was sure to have some matter which we should like, he would write and

ask him to send such to us. He also said that Mr. Ernest Roger

Halbard Melton, of Humcroft, Salop (he always gives this name and

address in full, which is his way of showing contempt), would be sure

to have some relevant matter, and that he would have him written to

on the subject. This he did. The Chancellor wrote him in his most

grandiloquent style. Mr. E. R. H. Melton, of H., S., replied by

return post. His letter is a document which speaks for itself:

 

HUMCROFT, SALOP,

May 30, 1908.

 

MY DEAR COUSIN KING RUPERT,

 

I am honoured by the request made on your behalf by the Lord High

Chancellor of your kingdom that I should make a literary contribution

to the volume which my cousin, Queen Teuta, is, with the help of your

former governess, Miss MacKelpie, compiling. I am willing to do so,

as you naturally wish to have in that work some contemporary record

made by the Head of the House of Melton, with which you are

connected, though only on the distaff side. It is a natural ambition

enough, even on the part of a barbarian—or perhaps semi-barbarian—

King, and far be it from me, as Head of the House, to deny you such a

coveted privilege. Perhaps you may not know that I am now Head of

the House; my father died three days ago. I offered my mother the

use of the Dower House—to the incumbency of which, indeed, she is

entitled by her marriage settlement. But she preferred to go to live

at her seat, Carfax, in Kent. She went this morning after the

funeral. In letting you have the use of my manuscript I make only

one stipulation, but that I expect to be rigidly adhered to. It is

that all that I have written be put in the book in extenso. I do not

wish any record of mine to be garbled to suit other ends than those

ostensible, or whatever may be to the honour of myself or my House to

be burked. I dare say you have noticed, my dear Rupert, that the

compilers of family histories often, through jealousy, alter matter

that they are allowed to use so as to suit their own purpose or

minister to their own vanity. I think it right to tell you that I

have had a certified copy made by Petter and Galpin, the law

stationers, so that I shall be able to verify whether my stipulation

has been honourably observed. I am having the book, which is

naturally valuable, carefully packed, and shall have it forwarded to

Sir Edward Bingham Trent, Baronet (which he now is—Heaven save the

mark!), the Attorney. Please see that he returns it to me, and in

proper order. He is not to publish for himself anything in it about

him. A man of that class is apt to advertise the fact of anyone of

distinction taking any notice of him. I would bring out the MS. to

you myself, and stay for a while with you for some sport, only your

lot—subjects I suppose you call them!—are such bounders that a

gentleman’s life is hardly safe amongst them. I never met anyone who

had so poor an appreciation of a joke as they have. By the way, how

is Teuta? She is one of them. I heard all about the hatching

business. I hope the kid is all right. This is only a word in your

ear, so don’t get cocky, old son. I am open to a godfathership.

Think of that, Hedda! Of course, if the other godfather and the

godmother are up to the mark; I don’t want to have to boost up the

whole lot! Savvy? Kiss Teuta and the kid for me. I must have the

boy over here for a bit later on—when he is presentable, and has

learned not to be a nuisance. It will be good for him to see

something of a real first-class English country house like Humcroft.

To a