The Story of St. Vespaluus
"Tell me a story," said the Baroness, staring out despairingly at the rain; itwas that light, apologetic sort of rain that looks as if it was going to leaveoff every minute and goes on for the greater part of the afternoon."What sort of story?" asked Clovis, giving his croquet mallet a valedictoryshove into retirement."One just true enough to be interesting and not true enough to be tiresome,"said the Baroness.Clovis rearranged several cushions to his personal solace and satisfaction; heknew that the Baroness liked her guests to be comfortable, and he thought itright to respect her wishes in that particular."Have I ever told you the story of St. Vespaluus?" he asked."You've told me stories about grand-dukes and lion-tamers and financiers' widowsand a postmaster in Herzegovina," said the Baroness, "and about an Italianjockey and an amateur governess who went to Warsaw, and several about yourmother, but certainly never anything about a saint.""This story happened a long while ago," he said, "in those uncomfortable piebaldtimes when a third of the people were Pagan, and a third Christian, and thebiggest third of all just followed whichever religion the Court happened toprofess. There was a certain king called Hkrikros, who had a fearful temper andno immediate successor in his own family; his married sister, however, hadprovided him with a large stock of nephews from which to select his heir. Andthe most eligible and royally-approved of all these nephews was the sixteen-year-old Vespaluus. He was the best looking, and the best horseman and javelin-thrower, and had that priceless princely gift of being able to walk past asupplicant with an air of not having seen him, but would certainly have givensomething if he had. My mother has that gift to a certain extent; she can gosmilingly and financially unscathed through a charity bazaar, and meet theorganizers next day with a solicitous 'had I but known you were in need offunds' air that is really rather a triumph in audacity. Now Hkrikros was a Paganof the first water, and kept the worship of the sacred serpents, who lived in ahallowed grove on a hill near the royal palace, up to a high pitch ofenthusiasm. The common people were allowed to please themselves, within certaindiscreet limits, in the matter of private religion, but any official in theservice of the Court who went over to the new cult was looked down on, literallyas well as metaphorically, the looking down being done from the gallery that ranround the royal bear-pit. Consequently there was considerable scandal andconsternation when the youthful Vespaluus appeared one day at a Court functionwith a rosary tucked into his belt, and announced in reply to angry questioningsthat he had decided to adopt Christianity, or at any rate to give it a trial. Ifit had been any of the other nephews the king would possibly have orderedsomething drastic in the way of scourging and banishment, but in the case of thefavoured Vespaluus he determined to look on the whole thing much as a modernfather might regard the announced intention of his son to adopt the stage as aprofession. He sent accordingly for the Royal Librarian. The royal library inthose days was not a very extensive affair, and the keeper of the king's bookshad a great deal of leisure on his hands. Consequently he was in frequent demandfor the settlement of other people's affairs when these strayed beyond normallimits and got temporarily unmanageable." 'You must reason with Prince Vespaluus,' said the king, 'and impress on himthe error of his ways. We cannot have the heir to the throne setting such adangerous example.'" 'But where shall I find the necessary arguments?' asked the Librarian." 'I give you free leave to pick and choose your arguments in the royal woodsand coppices,' said the king; 'if you cannot get together some cuttingobservations and stinging retorts suitable to the occasion you are a person ofvery poor resource.'"So the Librarian went into the woods and gathered a goodly selection of highlyargumentative rods and switches, and then proceeded to reason with Vespaluus onthe folly and iniquity and above all the unseemliness of his conduct. Hisreasoning left a deep impression on the young prince, an impression which lastedfor many weeks, during which time nothing more was heard about the unfortunatelapse into Christianity. Then a further scandal of the same nature agitated theCourt. At a time when he should have been engaged in audibly invoking thegracious protection and patronage of the holy serpents, Vespaluus was heardsinging a chant in honour of St. Odilo of Cluny. The king was furious at thisnew outbreak, and began to take a gloomy view of the situation; Vespaluus wasevidently going to show a dangerous obstinacy in persisting in his heresy. Andyet there was nothing in his appearance to justify such perverseness; he had notthe pale eye of the fanatic or the mystic look of the dreamer. On the contrary,he was quite the best-looking boy at Court; he had an elegant, well-knit figure,a healthy complexion, eyes the colour of very ripe mulberries, and dark hair,smooth and very well cared for.""It sounds like a description of what you imagine yourself to have been like atthe age of sixteen," said the Baroness."My mother has probably been showing you some of my early photographs," saidClovis. Having turned the sarcasm into a compliment, he resumed his story."The king had Vespaluus shut up in a dark tower for three days, with nothing butbread and water to live on, the squealing and fluttering of bats to listen to,and drifting clouds to watch through one little window slit. The anti-Pagansection of the community began to talk portentously of the boy-martyr. Themartyrdom was mitigated, as far as the food was concerned, by the carelessnessof the tower warden, who once or twice left a portion of his own supper ofbroiled meat and fruit and wine by mistake in the prince's cell. After thepunishment was over, Vespaluus was closely watched for any further symptom ofreligious perversity, for the king was determined to stand no more opposition onso important a matter, even from a favourite nephew. If there was any more ofthis nonsense, he said, the succession to the throne would have to be altered."For a time all went well; the festival of summer sports was approaching, andthe young Vespaluus was too engrossed in wrestling and foot-running and javelin-throwing competitions to bother himself with the strife of conflicting religioussystems. Then, however, came the great culminating feature of the summerfestival, the ceremonial dance round the grove of the sacred serpents, andVespaluus, as we should say, 'sat it out.' The affront to the State religion wastoo public and ostentatious to be overlooked, even if the king had been sominded, and he was not in the least so minded. For a day and a half he sat apartand brooded, and every one thought he was debating within himself the questionof the young prince's death or pardon; as a matter of fact he was merelythinking out the manner of the boys death. As the thing had to be done, and wasbound to attract an enormous amount of public attention in any case, it was aswell to make it as spectacular and impressive as possible." 'Apart from his unfortunate taste in religions,' said the king, 'and hisobstinacy in adhering to it, he is a sweet and pleasant youth, therefore it ismeet and fitting that he should be done to death by the winged envoys ofsweetness.'" 'Your Majesty means--?' said the Royal Librarian." 'I mean,' said the king, 'that he shall be stung to death by bees. By theroyal bees, of course.'" 'A most elegant death,' said the Librarian." 'Elegant and spectacular, and decidedly painful,' said the king; 'it fulfillsall the conditions that could be wished for.'"The king himself thought out all the details of the execution ceremony.Vespaluus was to be stripped of his clothes, his hands were to be bound behindhim, and he was then to be slung in a recumbent position immediately above threeof the largest of the royal beehives, so that the least movement of his bodywould bring him in jarring contact with them. The rest could be safely left tothe bees. The death throes, the king computed, might last anything from fifteento forty minutes, though there was division of opinion and considerable wageringamong the other nephews as to whether death might not be almost instantaneous,or, on the other hand, whether it might not be deferred for a couple of hours.Anyway, they all agreed, it was vastly preferable to being thrown down into anevil smelling bear-pit and being clawed and mauled to death by imperfectlycarnivorous animals."It so happened, however, that the keeper of the royal hives had leaningstowards Christianity himself, and moreover, like most of the Court officials, hewas very much attached to Vespaluus. On the eve of the execution, therefore, hebusied himself with removing the stings from all the royal bees; it was a longand delicate operation, but he was an expert beemaster, and by working hardnearly all night he succeeded in disarming all, or almost all, of the hiveinmates.""I didn't know you could take the sting from a live bee," said the Baronessincredulously."Every profession has its secrets," replied Clovis; "if it hadn't it wouldn't bea profession. Well, the moment for the execution arrived; the king and Courttook their places, and accommodation was found for as many of the populace aswished to witness the unusual spectacle. Fortunately the royal bee-yard was ofconsiderable dimensions, and was commanded, moreover, by the terraces that ranround the royal gardens; with a little squeezing and the erection of a fewplatforms room was found for everybody. Vespaluus was carried into the openspace in front of the hives, blushing and slightly embarrassed, but not at alldispleased at the attention which was being centred on him.""He seems to have resembled you in more things than in appearance," said theBaroness."Don't interrupt at a critical point in the story," said Clovis. "As soon as hehad been carefully adjusted in the prescribed position over the hives, andalmost before the gaolers had time to retire to a safe distance, Vespaluus gavea lusty and well-aimed kick, which sent all three hives toppling one overanother. The next moment he was wrapped from head to foot in bees; eachindividual insect nursed the dreadful and humiliating knowledge that in thissupreme hour of catastrophe it could not sting, but each felt that it ought topretend to. Vespaluus squealed and wriggled with laughter, for he was beingtickled nearly to death, and now and again he gave a furious kick and used a badword as one of the few bees that had escaped disarmament got its protest home.But the spectators saw with amazement that he showed no signs of approachingdeath agony, and as the bees dropped wearily away in clusters from his body hisflesh was seen to be as white and smooth as before the ordeal, with a shinyglaze from the honey-smear of innumerable bee-feet, and here and there a smallred spot where one of the rare stings had left its mark. It was obvious that amiracle had been performed in his favour, and one loud murmur, of astonishmentor exultation, rose from the onlooking crowd. The king gave orders for Vespaluusto be taken down to await further orders, and stalked silently back to hismidday meal, at which he was careful to eat heartily and drink copiously asthough nothing unusual had happened. After dinner he sent for the RoyalLibrarian." 'What is the meaning of this fiasco?' he demanded." 'Your Majesty,' said that official, 'either there is something radically wrongwith the bees--'" 'There is nothing wrong with my bees,' said the king haughtily, 'they are thebest bees.'" 'Or else,' said the Librarian, 'there is something irremediably right aboutPrince Vespaluus.'" 'If Vespaluus is right I must be wrong,' said the king."The Librarian was silent for a moment. Hasty speech has been the downfall ofmany; ill-considered silence was the undoing of the luckless Court functionary."Forgetting the restraint due to his dignity, and the golden rule which imposesrepose of mind and body after a heavy meal, the king rushed upon the keeper ofthe royal books and hit him repeatedly and promiscuously over the head with anivory chess-board, a pewter wine-flagon, and a brass candlestick; he knocked himviolently and often against an iron torch sconce, and kicked him thrice roundthe banqueting chamber with rapid, energetic kicks. Finally, he dragged him downa long passage by the hair of his head and flung him out of a window into thecourtyard below.""Was he much hurt?" asked the Baroness."More hurt than surprised," said Clovis. "You see, the king was notorious forhis violent temper. However, this was the first time he had let himself go sounrestrainedly on the top of a heavy meal. The Librarian lingered for many days- in fact, for all I know, he may have ultimately recovered, but Hkrikros diedthat same evening. Vespaluus had hardly finished getting the honey stains offhis body before a hurried deputation came to put the coronation oil on his head.And what with the publicly-witnessed miracle and the accession of a Christiansovereign, it was not surprising that there was a general scramble of convertsto the new religion. A hastily consecrated bishop was overworked with a rush ofbaptisms in the hastily improvised Cathedral of St. Odilo. And the boy-martyr-that-might-have-been was transposed in the popular imagination into a royal boy-saint, whose fame attracted throngs of curious and devout sightseers to thecapital. Vespaluus, who was busily engaged in organizing the games and athleticcontests that were to mark the commencement of his reign, had no time to giveheed to the religious fervour which was effervescing round his personality; thefirst indication he had of the existing state of affairs was when the CourtChamberlain (a recent and very ardent addition to the Christian community)brought for his approval the outlines of a projected ceremonial cutting-down ofthe idolatrous serpent-grove." 'Your Majesty will be graciously pleased to cut down the first tree with aspecially consecrated axe,' said the obsequious official." 'I'll cut off your head first, with any axe that comes handy,' said Vespaluusindignantly; 'do you suppose that I'm going to begin my reign by mortallyaffronting the sacred serpents? It would be most unlucky.'" 'But your Majesty's Christian principles?' exclaimed the bewilderedChamberlain." 'I never had any,' said Vespaluus; 'I used to pretend to be a Christianconvert just to annoy Hkrikros. He used to fly into such delicious tempers. Andit was rather fun being whipped and scolded and shut up in a tower all fornothing. But as to turning Christian in real earnest, like you people seem todo, I couldn't think of such a thing. And the holy and esteemed serpents havealways helped me when I've prayed to them for success in my running andwrestling and hunting, and it was through their distinguished intercession thatthe bees were not able to hurt me with their stings. It would be blackingratitude to turn against their worship at the very outset of my reign. I hateyou for suggesting it.'"The Chamberlain wrung his hands despairingly." 'But, your Majesty,' he wailed, 'the people are reverencing you as a saint,and the nobles are being Christianized in batches, and neighbouring potentatesof that Faith are sending special envoys to welcome you as a brother. There issome talk of making you the patron saint of beehives, and a certain shade ofhoney-yellow has been christened Vespalussian gold at the Emperor's Court. Youcan't surely go back on all this.'" 'I don't mind being reverenced and greeted and honoured,' said Vespaluus; 'Idon't even mind being sainted in moderation, as long as I'm not expected to besaintly as well. But I wish you clearly and finally to understand that I willnot give up the worship of the august and auspicious serpents.'"There was a world of unspoken bear-pit in the way he uttered those last words,and the mulberry-dark eyes flashed dangerously." 'A new reign,' said the Chamberlain to himself, 'but the same old temper.'"Finally, as a State necessity, the matter of the religions was compromised. Atstated intervals the king appeared before his subjects in the national cathedralin the character of St. Vespaluus, and the idolatrous grove was gradually prunedand lopped away till nothing remained of it. But the sacred and esteemedserpents were removed to a private shrubbery in the royal gardens, whereVespaluus the Pagan and certain members of his household devoutly and decentlyworshipped them. That possibly is the reason why the boy-king's success insports and hunting never deserted him to the end of his days, and that is alsothe reason why, in spite of the popular veneration for his sanctity, he neverreceived official canonization.""It has stopped raining," said the Baroness.
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