Victor Victorious

  *CHAPTER XIX*

  When the deputation had seen enough of us, and refreshed themselvesmightily, they went away much pleased with the result of their visit. Iam sure that some of them would remember all their lives that they hadspoken to their King and Queen; it would give them something to talkabout in their old age, as well as a feeling of importance amongst theirless fortunate fellows.

  It is a wonderful thing that rarity should add so much to the value ofanything.

  When we were alone again, Irma and I began to re-examine the two gifts,but, strangely enough, both of us were silent as though in thought. Itmay have been the art shown in the work, or it may have been somethingwhich I can never hope to explain, at any rate from that silent scrutinysprang an idea, which in its maturity was a source of many emotions.From a little thing, like the visit of that day, a great thing sprangforth, and incidentally my life was expanded.

  I had a nebulous scheme, a thought hardly formed, somewhere in my brain,as I stood and looked at the brooch and box; and it required thefeminine quickness to supply the concrete expression of it. My wifesaid:

  "The art of Rudarlia, what might it become?"

  "You had better tell me what you are thinking," I said.

  "I am thinking that Rudarlia may be famous for its art life, if you careto make it so."

  "But I know so little of art. The only knowledge I have of the subjectis entirely superficial; I've never had time to study it as it should bestudied."

  "Grey-haired Monarch."

  "Is my wisdom so great?"

  "No, oh King! that was not my thought."

  "But do you think that I shall ever have time to study the question?You must remember that here in Rudarlia we have none of the greatcollections that other countries have. One small gallery is all thatKarena boasts of."

  "Can you give me a reason why she should not have more?"

  "Not if you say that she is to have."

  "Oh, Victor, let us spend this evening planning out what we might do, orrather what we can."

  So that evening we sat on the terrace as usual, and instead of wastingthe time--if it can be so harshly described--we tried to work out someway of encouraging art in Rudarlia. It was a most puzzling question,for there was always the danger of overdoing the assistance we couldgive to artists, as well as the chance of offending theirsusceptibilities by what they might look upon as charity; they are sovery difficult to tackle, these people with artistic temperaments.

  It was, however, a most interesting conversation, during which Idiscovered that my wife had much more knowledge of the subject underdiscussion than I had; and later I found that she herself was very fondof dabbling in various mediums, with a considerable amount of success.

  We practically decided that night to found a colony devoted to the artsin Karena, and I knew just whereabouts that colony would have itsquarters.

  There was considerable risk, to my mind, in this idea of ours. Art to anation is, I suppose, almost a necessity in some shape or other, but itmust be controlled, either by the artists themselves or by the force ofpublic opinion. Now in Karena, which we proposed to make the heart ofour art world, public opinion was practically _non est_. The reasonsfor this being the want of wealth, and the want of artists. I shouldhave felt much more secure with regard to our scheme, if I had beencertain that the people really needed the fine arts to assist them inliving.

  I was quite well aware that the growth of proper appreciation must bevery gradual, and it seemed to us that the chief point was how to laythe foundations well. It was no good thinking of taking the fewRudarlians who called themselves artists, and giving them unlimitedpaint, or clay, or pianos, to work their own sweet will upon, for thatmust lead to either rank imitation, or work of the crudest kind. Weshould thus be obtaining no benefit, for there were many worthless daubsto be seen, although not all by Rudarlians.

  Our honeymoon drew to a close, two weeks of the most perfect joy that Ihave ever known; it was so, because I had nothing to do except devotemyself to Irma, afterwards it was never quite the same, as I had otherthings to attend to.

  For a little time after our return nothing was done about our scheme,that is, nothing definite, but all the while we were both working out,to the best of our ability, the details.

  I had known just whereabouts I wished the art settlement to be, but itwas only owing to the death of the man who owned the place that I wasable to buy it.

  The property I speak of was at the back of the Palace, and consisted ofthe most ancient houses in the city. These houses were practically cutoff from the rest of Karena; on one side by the Palace walls, or ratherthose of the grounds, on another by an extraordinary outcropping ofrock, while on the third--for the whole was in the form of atriangle--ran a small canal.

  The only way of getting to this place was by means of a bridge over thecanal, unless one climbed the walls of my gardens, or was lowered fromthe top of the rock. This place therefore was a perfect nest, andreally ideal for our settlement.

  How it had remained so, untouched by the spirit of modernity, was alwaysa puzzle to me. The moment the bridge over the canal was crossed, Ifelt as though I had stepped from the twentieth into the fifteenthcentury. I do not believe there was a single modern building in theplace; everywhere one looked, it was mediaeval.

  I remember the first time that we went there after having purchased it,just Irma, my mother, Mr. Neville, and myself, and we enjoyed itthoroughly. There had been few people living in the houses, which hadnot been cared for, and these few were only too pleased to turn out oftheir quarters for a consideration.

  We therefore found the place absolutely deserted, save for a fewpigeons, and cats who would not desert their old haunts.

  The doors of most of the houses had been left unlocked, so we went roundthe narrow cobbled streets, entering those buildings which seemed mostdesirable; some were really fine houses, with large rooms containinggreat carved beams, leaded lights, and other delightful things.Naturally, the outsides were in keeping, and no matter where we lookedwe could see old door-ways, queer gargoyles, and little courtyards, thewalls of which would in all probability be covered with lichen. In someparts, we seemed to be walking in a tunnel, so close were the houses toone another, and occasionally, at the end of these streets, we caughtsight of the sunlit canal. I was very, very pleased with my purchase.

  As we walked and examined, we explained to my mother and Mr. Nevillewhat we proposed doing.

  I think that at first she, or rather they, thought that marriage hadmade me a little mad; but as my explanation grew, both in length andconciseness, they began to think that after all something might be saidfor our idea. I told them that the houses should remain as they were,but with modern improvements, and that when the necessary alterationshad been effected I proposed inviting artists of all kinds to come andlive there: painters, sculptors, composers, engravers, writers, andmetal workers. I then went on to draw most alluring visions of what Ihoped would be the result. I pictured all these various artists livinghere much as they did in towns in the middle ages, working with thecertainty that any really meritorious piece of art would be more thoughtof than a dozen inferior works, and that appreciation, consideration,and understanding would go hand in hand with profit.

  Then I went on to tell them how I proposed having a gatehouse erected atthe canal bridge, and instal some old pensioner and family in it.

  "And how about feeding your colony?" asked Mr. Neville.

  "I intend having just a few shops, and shall have one inn; that oldplace with the big hall, I think it will do as the dining-hall forunmarried artists."

  "Where do you propose obtaining the artists you speak of?"

  "I don't know yet, but I do not think there will be much difficulty ingetting them to come here. I shall try the great art centres first, andthen the smaller ones; I shall invite the famous men to stay for as longas they wish, and execute some splendid piece of work for Rudarlia."

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bsp; "Yes, Victor is going to have his portrait painted in the uniform ofeach of his regiments; all the paintings will be collected in onebuilding, which will be called The Hall of the King, and I shall beexpected to spend so many hours a day there as a dutiful wife." Aremark strangely flippant for a newly-married Queen to make.

  My mother laughed, which was wrong of her, and said quietly:

  "From what I know of the portraits of Royalty, all the works would be somuch unlike each other that they would have to bear an identificationtablet."

  "How nice! I can imagine that I have ever so many different husbands,and so need not get tired of one."

  "I can see that this will lead to a family quarrel, so will turn thesubject," said Mr. Neville.

  "You need not trouble," laughed my fond parent. "Victor will do thathimself, by letting loose a herd of wild artists in this peacefulcommunity."

  "Another thing that I shall do," I said, "is this: no Royal person shallbe allowed to come here without a special permit."

  "He would keep us out of Eden," murmured Irma.

  "Zeula with a brush full of paint shall keep the entrance."

  That was from Mr. Neville, so as I had them all against me Isurrendered.

  Now that we had possession of this place, it was not many weeks beforethe workmen were in, for we did not want to lose time, being both youngenough to feel excited about our plans. I think it must be one of themost terrible things in life, to lose the power of feeling excited. Myrespect for architects grew enormously during the next few weeks, theyknew so much that I did not; for instance, it seemed to me the simplestthing in the world to put pipes and things into a house to conduct waterfrom the main, but it appeared to be more difficult than I imagined, andmuch discussion was necessary. I could not understand why, when therewas a blank wall, I could not have a window knocked through it, and Ifinally came to the conclusion that a statesman of one of the greatpowers--the Foreign Minister of England, for example--does not have tobe more careful than an architect knocking a window in a blank wall, soas not to disturb the balance of power.

  Unless we had seen it ourselves we should never have believed that therewas so much to be done in the place. It was almost staggering, and yetall the repairs and alterations were absolutely necessary; there wererooms to be converted into studios, and workshops and a hundred smalleralterations. It was a most wonderful hobby for both of us, not to speakof many others who were interested in a lesser degree. I think Zeulawas almost as keen as we were, he spent hours in the vicinity; he hadliked the idea the moment he had heard of it, and had immediatelyoffered his services in any way we could use them. Another person whospent much of his spare time there was Bauen, he could generally befound keeping a watchful eye upon the workmen, and no doubt yarning withthem, and telling those who wished, wonderful tales of their King.

  I had had a gate made in the wall of the Palace gardens, and Irma and Iused to go down when the workmen had finished for the day, to see whatprogress had been made, and what new arrangements we could suggest.Then the day came when there was enough done to allow us to beginfilling our nest with birds.

  This we did slowly, with much deliberation, and with the assistance ofsome of the great artists of the world, who most kindly offered to helpus. From reports which I received indirectly from the large centres, Icaused a list to be made of those artists to whom should be sent aninvitation to come to Karena. They were not all famous--in fact, therewere only a few to whom that term might be applied--but they were all ofan artistic calibre which made it possible for them to become so.

  From Rudarlia I had a goodly few, who were eager to profit by thewonderful chance which this scheme of ours offered them, and the greatmen were ever ready to take them into their studios, to instruct andassist them. I had never realised how much goodness there was amongartists until then, I had always looked upon them as essentially selfishpeople; but then I had known very few, and those, perhaps, bad examples.It was a lesson to me not to misjudge a class by a few specimens. Ifear one is rather given to so doing.

  It was wonderful to watch the beginning of a settlement, the incoming,the furnishing, and the gradual fall in the excitement; each new-comertook his own time to get used to the place, and artists might be seenall about Karena, gazing and exploring, but soon the first batch hadsettled down, and work was commenced.

  From that time my education advanced along artistic lines, and I beganto understand something of the innermost strivings of those men who wereadding to the beauty of the world.

  Most days, I managed to visit the place for half an hour or so, and whenpossible Irma accompanied me. Without any fuss or preparation we wentto this studio, or that workshop, and were greeted everywhere withsmiles, for these good people learnt to look upon us as friends, andwere always pleased to show us anything which they thought mightinterest us; occasionally we made some little purchase, occasionally wegave some bigger commission.

  There was one building reserved for exhibitions of paintings anddrawings, another for the crafts, while a large hall was generally fullof sculpture. These formed a permanent exhibition, although the workexhibited was not always the same, as each month the artists had theright to change their works there for others, and replace any that hadbeen sold.

  This exhibition was a source of great interest to Karenians, and others;indeed, most visitors who came to the city were anxious to see the workaccomplished by my artists, as both Irma and myself called them, andmany of these visitors went away with purchases and few of themapparently regretted the money spent.

  We set the fashion of giving works of art as presents, and I am glad tobe able to state that the fashion remains in full favour.

  The other artistic professions were not neglected, there being studiosset aside for musicians of all kinds, but I found it more difficult toarrange a plan whereby the pecuniary side of their work might benefit.I therefore arranged that each week a concert should be given, and alsothat there should be a certain season when any of the masters might givegrand opera, the players, of course, being the students. Karena boastedof an opera house; and, although I do not pose as an authority, Ibelieve the musical side of the Rudarlian life was rather highlydeveloped before this settlement came into being.

  Some six months after the place was in full working order, one of thefamous European artists, who happened to be staying as my guest, and whowas full of enthusiasm for the scheme, suggested that the lack of oldmasters in Karena was a serious handicap for the students. I questionedhim closely on the subject, heard all he had to say, and theninterrogated others; the greater number agreed that a collection of theworks of the famous masters would be of incalculable value to theartists generally.

  This was a new idea, and I must confess that it appealed to me; I thinkthat I wanted Karena to be able to boast also of a National Gallery, butthere were many things to be thought of before this could be undertaken.The greatest difficulty was procuring the works themselves, how was thatpossible even though I should desire it; many pictures are sold as oldmasters, but there must be many fakes among them. Another thing was theexpense; I had no wish to invest a large sum of money in pictures, forin a newly developing country like mine there were countless other waysof spending money, with infinitely more advantage to the nation. What Ifinally did was this: I let it be known all over Rudarlia that I wouldprovide a gallery, if the Rudarlians themselves would provide thepictures, either as gifts to the nation or as loans.

  The result surprised me, I had had no idea that the artistic schemewhich Irma and I had originated had so taken the public fancy; but itappeared that it had, and almost immediately I received notificationthat there were a large number of nobles and others who would considerit an honour to have their old pictures hung in the National Gallery inKarena. It must have astonished many people to know that Rudarlia hadmany authentic works of the great masters, men like Rubens, Rembrandt,and Titian, stowed away in various old castles and chateaux. These wereoffered generously by their owners, some a
s gifts, others as loans, so Iperforce had to keep to my promise and provide a suitable building forthe housing. This expense I looked upon as a most legitimate one, forit gave work to a number of men, thus circulating money among theworking class, added to the beauty of Karena, and incidentally added tothe value of the city as an art centre.

  In building this gallery, I was determined to employ only Rudarlianbrains, labour, and materials, and so the first thing I did was to opena competition among Rudarlian architects, all over the country, for thebest design for the proposed gallery.

  I did not judge these myself, but left the decision to a famous Frencharchitect who was staying in Karena. I found that his choice was muchthe same as Irma's and mine, so that design was decided upon, and thearchitect who had submitted it was awarded the prize. Strange to say,he was an absolutely unknown man from a small town in Garace. The nextthing, was to decide upon the builder, but this I left to others tothink about.

  We had chosen a site in an excellent position, near the Palace, andtherefore close to the settlement; and it was with a feeling almost akinto awe that Irma laid the foundation stone. She told me of this feelingand asked me to explain it, which was more than I could do, but I didsuggest that she was fearful of the effect the gallery might have on theRudarlians.

  At last the building was completed. What a day that was, it is simplyburnt upon my memory with ineffaceable delight, not because we weregoing to open a National Gallery of Art, not because we had accomplishedsomething for Rudarlia, but because upon that day Irma told mesomething; told me shyly, yet with a deep, wonderful pride, that I wasto be a father.

  We had then been married for three years, and I think that all thenation worried that no child had been born to us. In my heart, I, too,had been rather despondent, for so much hung upon our having a family,and more powerful still was my desire to hold my own child in my arms.

  I believe that all those who came in contact with me that day thoughtthat I was a little too exhilarated at thoughts of opening a gallery;they put it down to that, poor dears, not knowing what the real reasonwas. In all probability, a thousand husbands feel just the same everytime such news is broken to them, but then I would not have allowedthat; I was bursting with pride, and an insane desire to take every oneinto my confidence.

  What an absurd thing young human nature is, that is, when it is naturaland nice--and I was both.

  I remember nothing of the opening ceremony, except that various speecheswere made and a great number of people cheered themselves hoarse whenIrma and I appeared. Irma told me afterwards, so did Mr. Neville, sodid Zeula, so did my mother, that my speech convulsed every one whoheard it; that I had appeared in a new role: that of a wit. I shouldnever have believed them, had they not made me read the report of what Ihad said, which appeared in the newspaper. It certainly was humorous,but I have never attempted to repeat it, rather luckily, too, in myopinion.

  It was in connection with this gallery, that I instituted a new Order inRudarlia: the Order of Merit.

  Ever since my accession, I had been thinking in a half-hearted fashionof doing so, but now I made up my mind that such an Order would be mostuseful to reward those Rudarlians who served the state in either adirect or indirect manner. I wished if possible to widen the area ofsuch a distinction, not only to confine it to the professions. Any manwho by his labour served Rudarlia might be entitled to receive theOrder, but the different labours must be kept apart from one another; Imean, by that, that a soldier wearing the Order must be distinguishablefrom the great lawyer, and so on. This I did by using differentcoloured ribbons. All men with the right to wear the distinction wereto be known as Chevalier. They and their wives had also the right toappear at Court.

  For this I received some abuse, no doubt, but I shall always maintainthat class distinction, based on birth alone, is a mistake, andcalculated to work a tremendous amount of mischief. That a man whoemploys thousands of other men to make articles, or raise food, for thenation, should be looked down upon by those whose ancestors fought fortheir country and were ennobled is wrong.

  So many people do not realise that national service is not necessarilyperformed only by fighting. And those same people do not realise thattimes have changed; they do not wish to advance with the civilisation oftheir country, never thinking that the rich man of to-day may be thefounder of a noble family which shall do much for the honour andadvancement of their land. I do not deny, however, that the said noblefamily may, in a hundred years or so, look down and sneer at their lesshighly placed neighbours; but then human nature is very funny if youthink about it, and extremely illogical.

  There must be expansion in everything, and in such a country asRudarlia, where classes exist, I hold that the noble class is all thestronger and better for the introduction into its ranks of all types ofbrains, that is, of course, the finer types; I do not suggest criminaltypes, or fools, or even sentimentalists, for as a rule such types arenot unknown among the denizens of the aristocracy in all countries. Itwas my wish, therefore, to obtain this fresh blood in the titledfamilies by choosing recruits from the ranks of those who had achieved.

  For the first few months that followed the opening of the gallery, I donot believe there ever was a happier monarch than myself. It becamealmost a disease, and, strange to say, nearly all those who surroundedme caught the complaint. My mother at thought of possessing agrandchild was almost delirious with joy. Zeula was worse; he began totalk to me upon every occasion when we were alone about my heir, and towonder about his education, his names, every conceivable thing whichcould be imagined. And I liked it, and encouraged him. At first we wereboth prone to talk as though the sex of the child were known; we alwaysspoke of it as masculine, until Mr. Neville put us right by suggestingmildly that it might happen to be a girl, he had heard of such cases, hesaid. I will own that at his remark both Zeula and myself were rathertaken aback, but after the first few minutes we went on quite calmlymaking our plans for a girl. Oh, the castles in the air we all built,and what a fascinating pastime it was.

  About this time I had a letter from Carruthers. I have it still,occasionally I read it as an antidote, for it brings back somethingwhich I might with reason wish to forget. I used to take--and do still,for that matter--great pride in being beloved by my people, and I usedto flatter myself that there was no one who could come and say to me,with truth, "Look at my misery, the result of this or that action ofyours." Once before, on the day of my marriage, I had experienced asevere shock to this pride of mine, but now I was as bad as ever. Thesecond shock, however, opened my eyes to the fact that a king can alwaysfind some one who believes that the monarch has used him ill. So it wasin my case.

  Carruthers' letter ran:

  "MY DEAR OLD SPLOSH,

  "A very curious thing has happened, which has caused me a lot of worry.

  "Last week I received a letter from a woman whose name is unknown to me,asking for an interview. She informed me that what she wanted to tellme was serious, and might affect you. I saw her. The interview wasinteresting; as she appears to look upon you as some one divine, I didnot disabuse her mind. She told me that you had assisted her to returnhome to England after Ivan's death, and other things, one of which was,that having heard my name used in connection with yours, she imaginedthat I could tell you her tale more easily than she could herself. Itwas this: A man had been to her farm for work, and had in the course ofhis stay uttered many threats against you as the cause of his downfall.From what he said the woman seemed to think that he was an illegitimateson of the late Ivan, and who had been left destitute on his father'sdeath. She described him as being a very powerful man, dark, with afierce wild expression. The details are meagre enough, but look out forsuch a man, see if your Ministers know of him. Don't take risks byignoring this, for I am convinced that the woman was absolutely genuine.I've a jolly good mind to chuck the army, and come and look after youmyself."

  I did not ignore this warning, I spoke to Zeula, Woolgast, and th
e headof the police about it, but I fettered them by binding them to secrecy,as I did not wish the slightest rumour to reach Irma's ears. Havingspoken to these men, I must confess that the warning faded from mymemory; luckily, the others did not forget so easily. They, it seemed,had an anxious time. Zeula told me that before Ivan had usurped thethrone he had had a son by a peasant woman, but this child haddisappeared.