Ruritania

Careful observation led to the belief that at the time of the Great War the strongest State of all in the region was Ruritania. Ruritania also had its internal troubles. The late King was seized and imprisoned in the Castle of Zenda by his treacherous half-brother, and was saved only by the courage and resource of an Englishman, Rudolf Rassendyll, who, through a curious connection with the Royal family, looked enough like the King to be his double. This man sacrificed everything, even his love for the Queen, to honour, and he later rescued the country from the evil designs of one Rupert of Hentzau. Anthony Hope had written two brilliant monographs upon Rassendyll. But the King was broken by his long imprisonment, and Flavia ruled in his place. She was an extraordinary woman, and her people would fight for her as the Hungarian nobles once fought for Maria Theresa.

With the exception of Graustark, no State had such credit as Ruritania. Both in agriculture and industries the Ruritanians attained a high degree of prosperity, in spite of the heavy taxation which the construction of a great chain of border fortresses imposed. The army was at least equal in numbers to that of Axphain, and it was superior in morale. Furthermore, there was not a Ruritanian capable of military service who would not enlist to defend his country. This high spirit was largely due to the influence of Flavia. The Ruritanians had some grave defects; but, like the pirates in the opera, ‘with all their faults, they love their Queen.’ They could in all probability preserve Ruritania from invasion; even Austria or Russia would find it a hard morsel to swallow; and if the nation should ever be drawn into war with Axphain; the cession of Dawsbergen might be the price of peace. Whatever happens – and in the present state of Europe prophecy would be especially dangerous – Ruritania is bound to play a leading and not ignoble part.

Seldom visited, these States are none the less widely known. They occupy an irregular belt of territory, from a point in the Adriatic just south of Fiume, northeast to the borders of Russia. It is difficult to determine their exact boundaries, for map makers have generally neglected them.

Ruritania was a small, mountainous principality located in Eastern Europe. The capital city Streslau was is built on the site of a Roman military camp, which guarded the mountain passes. This small state was, in many ways, despite the efforts of the prince, a poor and backward. The industry was only in the capital, where there were several factories, British and Austrian industrialists. A large part of the population lived off agriculture in the valleys between the mountains, or were pastoralists on the mountain slopes, just as their ancestors have for centuries. Due to the impenetrability of high mountains the country was largely cut off from the rest of the world, and did not interfere with neighboring states. It had complex and very hostile relationship has with its nearest neighbor, the Grand Duchy of Graustark.

The country spoke Ruritanian (ruthenštiny old form, from which evolved the modern Ukrainian, Belarusian and Ruthenian) and residents were Ruritanian Slavs. Only the aristocratic courts echoes German, which is the language of Princely Court. Most of the country's population were Roman Catholics.

In the year 1733, George II sitting then on the throne, peace reigning for the moment, and the king and the Prince of Wales being not yet at loggerheads, there came on a visit to the English court a certain prince, who was afterward known to history as Rudolf the Third of Ruritania. The prince was a tall, handsome young fellow, marked (maybe marred, it is not for me to say) by a somewhat unusually long, sharp, and straight nose, and a mass of dark-red hair—in fact, the nose and the hair which have stamped the Elphbergs time out of mind. He stayed some months in England, where he was most courteously received; yet in the end he left rather under a cloud. For he fought a duel (it was considered highly well bred of him to waive all question of his rank) with a nobleman, well known in the society of the day, not only for his own merits, but as the husband of a very beautiful wife.

In that duel Prince Rudolf received a severe wound, and recovering therefrom, was adroitly smuggled off by the Ruritanian ambassador, who had found him a pretty handful. The nobleman was not wounded in the duel; but the morning being raw and damp on the occasion of the meeting, he contracted a severe chill, and failing to throw it off, he died some six months after the departure of Prince Rudolf.

Hence it happens that in 189— Rudolf Rassendyll, a well portioned, idle, roving younger son, impelled by curiosity to visit Ruritania and witness the coronation at Strelsau of Rudolf the Fifth, finds himself an object of interest to the King, whom he encounters on the eve of his coronation, and in whom he discovers the living image of himself. The King’s throne is none too secure. His unscrupulous half-brother, the Duke of Strelsau, envies him both that and the hand of the beautiful Princess Flavia, and, sure of the people, “Black Michael” has set afoot a cunning plot to drug the King, kidnap him, and in his absence lay violent hands upon the crown. The trap is laid, the King is caught; but his counsellors, convinced that his throne is lost if he be not crowned in Strelsau on this appointed day, prevail on Rassendyll to play the Kings part in the coronation. And all that remained to Rudolf Rassendyll of that strange adventure in Ruritania are memories of midnight scalings, fights against fearful odds, the ring of steel in combats which the immortal Musketeers would not have disdained these, and a picture in the Illustrated London News of his own coronation. The hero returns to quiet England and concludes that he has accomplished enough for one man's lifetime.

Michael, in his moated and drawbridged Castle of Zenda, had the King in prison, and knew of the imposture, yet can prove nothing without disclosing his own treachery. Nor can the King’s party declare who this mysterious prisoner is without admitting the imposture they have countenanced. So Rassendyll reigned on.

Anthony Hope’s Prisoner of Zenda is a romance about an imaginary kingdom of Ruritania and an imaginary family of Elphbergs. But there is little room on the map of Europe for Ruritania. Hope placed it Somewhere in the South Eastern corner of Europe, about which the knowledge of most readers was vague enough to admit of all sorts of imaginary events being laid there without offence to a sense of probability.

The Prisoner of Zenda offers royalty as romance. The great adventure that made an English gentleman a king puts on the likeness of fact to offer an escape from fact. The Prisoner of Zenda ws far indeed from being a great book; but it is a rattling good story, with a most gallant English gentleman for its hero, and it was entirely true to its own world. The Prisoner of Zenda was turned into a play (though not by its author) and ran for a year at the St. James's Theatre, with George Alexander in gallant form as the two Rudolfs, and Evelyn Millard looking superbly handsome as the Princess Flavia.

In one nation that the war party was in control of the foreign office, the high command, and most of the press, had claims on the territory of several of its neighbors. These claims were called the Greater Ruritania by the cultivated classes who regarded Kipling, Treitschke, and Maurice Barres as one hundred percent Ruritanian. But the grandiose idea aroused no enthusiasm abroad.

So holding this finest flower of the Ruritanian genius, as their poet laureate said, to their hearts, Ruritania’s statesmen went forth to divide and conquer. They divided the claim into sectors. For each piece they invoked that stereotype which some one or more of their allies found it difficult to resist, because that ally had claims for which it hoped to find approval by the use of this same stereotype.

The first sector happened to be a mountainous region inhabited by alien peasants. Ruritania demanded it to complete her natural geographical frontier. By fixing the attention long enough on the ineffable value of what is natural, those alien peasants just dissolved into fog, and only the Slope of the mountains was visible.

The next sector was inhabited by Ruritanians, and on the principle that no people ought to live under alien rule, they were reannexed. Then came a city of considerable commercial importance not inhabited by Ruritanians. But until the eighteenth century it had been part of Ruritania, and on the principle of historic right it was annexed. Farther on there was a splendid mineral deposit owned by aliens and worked by aliens. On the principle of reparation for damage it was annexed.

Beyond this there was a territory inhabited ninety-seven percent by aliens constituting the natural geographical frontier of another nation, never historically a part of Ruritania,. But one of the provinces which had been federated into Ruritania had formerly traded in those markets, and the upper-class culture was Ruritanian. On the principle of cultural superiority and the necessity of defending civilization, the lands were claimed. Finally, there was a port wholly disconnected from Ruritania geographically, ethnically, economically, historically, traditionally. It was demanded on the grounds that it was needed for national defense.

Ruritania also had its internal troubles. The late King was seized and imprisoned in the Castle of Zenda by his treacherous half-brother, and was saved only by the courage and resource of an Englishman, Rudolf Rassendyll, who, through a curious connection with the royal family, looked enough like the King to be his double. This man sacrified everything, even his love for the Queen, to honor, and he later rescued the country from the evil designs of one Rupert of Hentzau. Anthony Hope had written two brilliant monographs upon Rassendyll. But the King was broken by his long imprisonment, and Flavia ruled in his place. She was an extraordinary woman, and her people would fight for her as the Hungarian nobles once fought for Maria Theresa.

With the exception of Graustark, no State had such credit as Ruritania. Both in agriculture and industries the Ruritanians have attained a high degree of prosperity, in spite of the heavy taxation which the construction of a great chain of border fortresses imposed. The army was at least equal in numbers to that of Axphain, and it was superior in morale. Furthermore, there was not a Ruritanian capable of military service who would not enlist to defend his country. This high spirit was largely due to the influence of Flavia.

The Ruritanians had some grave defects; but, like the pirates in the opera, "with all their faults, they love their Queen." They could in all probability preserve Ruritania from invasion; even Austria or Russia would find it a hard morsel to swallow; and if the nation should ever be drawn into war with Axphain the cession of Dawsbergen might be the price of peace. Whatever happens—and in the present disturbed state of Europe prophecy would be especially dangerous — Ruritania was bound to play a leading and not ignoble part.

Talent Imitates, Genius Steals

The Prisoner of Zenda was not the first novel about twins changing places.

During the reign of King Louis XIV, an enigmatic man spent several decades confined to the Bastille and other French prisons. No one knew his identity or why he was in jail. Even stranger, no one knew what he looked like—the prisoner was never seen without a black velvet mask covering his face. The anonymous prisoner has since inspired countless stories and legends—writings by Voltaire and Alexandre Dumas helped popularized the myth that his mask was made of iron.

In 1717, Voltaire was imprisoned at the Bastille. According to him, the man in the iron mask was around 60 when he died, and bore a striking resemblance to a very famous aristocrat. Of course, the most famous aristocrat in France at that time was King Louis XIV, who was also in his 60's. Another prisoner at the Bastille, Joseph de Lagrange, asserted that Benigne d'Auvergne de Saint, the governor of Sainte Marguerite, treated the mystery man deferentially and referred to him as 'prince'.

In 1789 Frederic Grimm, a famous writer, claimed that a valet had revealed to him that Louis XIV had an identical twin. And that Louis XIII, feared the brothers would grow up to fight over the throne, so he sent the second-born baby away to be raised in secret.

In 1847 Alexandre Dumas was already a best-selling novelist when he wrote The Man in the Iron Mask. This was the final episode in the cycle of novels featuring Dumas celebrated foursome of D Artagnan, Athos, Porthos and Aramis, who first appeared in The Three Musketeers. In "The Man in the Iron Mask", in particular, the focus is on the rise to power of King Louis XIV. Louis XIV had a gentle twin brother Philippe who was first kept in the infamous Bastille and later condemned to permanently cover his face and live on an island fortress.

Mark Twain's The Prince and the Pauper [1882] tells the tale of two boys who trade clothing one afternoon and, as a result, they trade lives as well. After many adventures, matters are set right again, with one of the boys resuming his rightful, royal position and the other boy accepting a position that recognizes his innate intelligence and good heartedness.

In 1920 E. Philips Openheim wrote a classic spy thriller about evil agents of Wilhelmine Germany plotting to place a mole in English high society. A German aristocrat (and spy) named Leopold Von Ragenstein on safari meets an worn out, drunken English aristocrat named Sir Everard Dominey. Dominey has very high connections in England, and has access to major military and diplomatic secrets. Von Ragenstein notices that he and Dominey look very similar in appearance. The German kills the Englishman and takes over the Englishman's identity and use it to feed information to the Germans. The novel follows the return of Sir Everard, and the issue which perplexes everyone (English and German) is who has returned: Sir Everard or Baron Leopold.

The Oppenheim novel was made into a 1921 film starring James Kirkwood, Ann Forrest, Winter Hall.

In The Great Impersonation (1935) Baron Leopold von Ragastein impersonates his noble lookalike Sir Everard Dominey at the vast Dominey Hall, where strange things are afoot in pre-Great War England.

The Great Impersonation is a 1942 American thriller film directed by John Rawlins and starring Ralph Bellamy, Evelyn Ankers and Aubrey Mather. It is an adaptation of the 1920 novel The Great Impersonation by Edward Phillips Oppenheim. The unpublished 1936 short story by Charles G. Booth called Caviar for His Excellency was of similar structure.

In the 1939 film The Magnificent Fraud, a con man hires a character actor [Jules LaCroix] to masqueraded as the recently assassinated dictator [President Alvarado] of a tiny Latin American country so he can bilk an arriving American ambassador out of his fortune.

"Moon over Parador" is a 1988 romantic comedy film, starring Richard Dreyfuss, Raúl Juliá and Sonia Braga. It may be one of the best and funniest roles played by Richard Dreyfuss. It also features the great Raul Julia, an actor who died before he got the fame he deserved. Also in the cast is the great comedian Jonathan Winters.

Richard Dreyfuss plays actor Jack Noah, a out-of-work actor who takes on a very difficult and dangerous 'body double' job, acting the part of a dictator in a small Latin American country. Parador's fascist strongman consumes too much national drink and drops dead the day before the elections. The chief of police (Raul Julia) then "invites" Noah to assume the role of president - under the threat of death. Noah's confidence grows with each speech and with personal support from the dead leader's sultry mistress (Sonia Braga), a champion of Parador's downtrodden masses. But when guerilla fighters strike, Noah wonders if it might not be time to move to a new role.

The fourteen families that control Parador, refer to the fourteen families that in reality controlled the Republic of El Salvador in the early 1970s. The country's name of Parador is a portmanteau of the South American countries of Paraguay (PARA) and Ecuador (DOR). Parador is also the Spanish word for a government-run inn that are popular in countries such as Spain and Puerto Rico.

In the movie Dave (1993), to avoid a potentially explosive scandal when the U.S. President goes into a coma, an affable temp agency owner with an uncanny resemblance is put in his place. Bill Mitchell is the philandering and distant President of the United States. Dave Kovic is a sweet-natured and caring Temp Agency operator, who by a staggering coincidence looks exactly like the President. As such, when Mitchell wants to escape an official luncheon, the Secret Service hires Dave to stand in for him. Unfortunately, Mitchell suffers a severe stroke whilst having sex with one of his aides, and Dave finds himself stuck in the role indefinitely.

This is one of two movies in which Kevin Kline plays both the President of the United States and the man impersonating the President. The next was in Wild Wild West (1999), in which he portrayed President Ulysses S. Grant and impostor Artemus Gordon. Many Hollywood personalities, US Congressmen, and political commentators appear in this film as themselves. Oliver Stone tries to convince a reporter that the president is not the same man as he used to be.

In Roberto Ando's 2013 movie Viva La Liberta [Long Live Freedom], Enrico Oliveri, a politician arriving at a political function feeling depressed. He gives a dull, boring speech. No one is excited, neither is he. So, without telling anyone he packs a bag, and leaves for parts unknown. He ends up at an old girlfriend's home where she lives with her husband and daughter. His , his executive assistant is left holding the bag. He discovers that the boss has a twin brother, fresh from the madhouse, and a willing substitute to stand in so the party doesn't implode. at least the man knows he is crazy, he is not trying to hide it, and in fact he tells the truth and gives hope to all.