King Ottokar's Sceptre – Hergé, 1938-39 [Revised 1947] ★★★

Eih Bennek, Eih Blavek

Welcome to Syldavia, land of beauty, intrigue, and one of the craziest regime-change mechanisms ever put on the books. You are flying in the company of an intrepid young reporter, his pet dog, and a noted sigillographer who’s not been himself lately. Before landing, let’s take a moment to appreciate the lovely scenery. Here, the pilot shall drop you in lower for a closer look…

Oops! Sorry! Good thing we attached a parachute to your seat. Well, happy landings, and see you at the palace.

The eighth volume of the Tintin comic book series continues developing what had become a winning formula for author Hergé, bringing together high adventure and silly comedy by placing our hero Tintin into jeopardy, usually without his knowing how or why.

This time the adventure involves Syldavia, a mythical European country apparently nestled in the Balkans. Its king, Muscar XII, is troubled by the warlike movements of expansionist neighbor Borduria. Tintin is invited to accompany Professor Alembick, an expert on seals and signets granted a viewing of Syldavia’s royal archives. But Tintin’s activities fall under the observation of a nest of shadowy spies in his home city.

“It’s all very odd,” Tintin says. “I just can’t make head or tail of this business.”

That may go for many readers, too. After nearly a decade, the Tintin series was coming to a crossroads in 1938. As with Europe itself, big changes were in store for the comic. Some of this is reflected here.

This would be the last Tintin story to appear in its entirety in the pages of Le Petit Vingtième, the Belgian publication where Tintin originated. That was shuttered in 1940 with Belgium’s occupation by Germany.

King Ottokar’s Sceptre also marks the first appearance of the comic’s main female character, Bianca Castafiore, and of Syldavia and Borduria, important nations in later Tintin adventures. Thomson and Thompson are sort of first-timers here, too; while featured in past stories, this marks the first occasion where they are actual allies of Tintin, rather than well-meaning foils Tintin has to fool or placate somehow.

Bianca Castafiore makes sure everyone knows she has arrived in the Tintin series, with an impromptu serenade. Even the wildlife on the roadside flee in terror. Image from https://www.books4kids.net/en/p/317/king-ottokar-s-sceptre.

Most notably, it’s the last time a Tintin adventure doesn’t include Archibald Haddock, the heroically splenic sea captain who becomes Tintin’s buddy in his next full-length adventure, The Crab With The Golden Claws, and remains by his side thereafter.

Haddock’s arrival brought the series more humor and some needed outsized personality, and gave Tintin someone to talk to other than his dog. That had been a quirk of the Tintin books from the beginning, but you mightn’t have noticed it so much until this one.

The oddity of King Ottokar’s Sceptre begins on the first page. First pages were critical to Hergé in setting a tone and moving a story forward. In the last book, The Black Island, Tintin gets shot on page one and spends the rest of the book chasing down his assailants. In King Ottokar’s Sceptre, Tintin finds a briefcase on a park bench, discovers a name and address inside, and carries it off with him to the owner’s apartment. Oh, and Snowy chases some birds.

Kind of slack, no? The only hint of danger here comes from Snowy’s warning: “No good ever comes of getting mixed up in other people’s business.” Which feels premature at this point given Tintin is just walking down a street to return a briefcase.

Eventually something of a story emerges. The owner of the briefcase, Professor Alembick, tells Tintin about Syldavia. Tintin discovers he is being watched by a group of sneaky characters on another floor. Following one to a restaurant, he gains more information but doesn’t escape unnoticed. Threats are followed by an attempt on Tintin’s life.

This about covers the first 15 pages, and marks as slow an opening to any Tintin book I can remember. The air of mystery is appealing, and Thomson and Thompson do provide some minor amusement, but I found myself for the first time really missing Haddock, after registering but not quite minding his absence in the earlier books. For the first time in the series, Tintin seems at loss for a purpose. His investigations are a matter of idle curiosity, not life or death. He doesn’t really need to go to Syldavia with the professor; it’s something to do.

The bad guys are escaping with Tintin in hot pursuit early in King Ottokar's Sceptre. Unfortunately, he left behind his dog and police escort. Image from http://www.bobdemoor.info/2014/07/31/a-mega-rare-decor-for-belvisions-king-ottokars-sceptre-1957-animation-by-bob-de-moor/ 

Fortunately, Hergé seems to understand this, and kicks things into a higher gear once Tintin is airborne. Not only does a solid adventure settle into form by about page 20, and moves along rather nicely thereafter; the artist in Hergé springs to the fore as well with some of his best graphic work to date.

First and most arrestingly are the three separate splash pages Hergé devotes to telling the story of Syldavia, in the form of a catalog detailing its history, geography, economy, and culture.

This is a unique device in the Tintin books, a book within the book, including some snapshots of the local population, portraits, and a gorgeous battle scene done up like the Bayeux Tapestry. It’s all done in Hergé’s ligne claire style, a flatter perspective anyway which comes in handy here since we are in essence looking over Tintin’s shoulder at the pages of a book. A masterful bit of business delivered at the right time.

As a young reader, I probably spent more time looking at this page than any other in the Tintin series. This is actually a forerunner of what appears today, a cheaper four-color treatment. See http://www.gorianet.it/tintin/english/nsurb.htm for more examples of how Tintin looked before the purse strings loosened.

Reading this, we learn about the sceptre of Ottakar IV, and the strange rule that any time the king allows himself to lose the sceptre, control of Syldavia falls automatically to its new possessor.

Ottokar himself made this decree, along with a declaration that has become Syldavia’s motto: Eih bennek, eih blavek, or “Come and get it.” That is just what the evil Bordurian-aligned separatist, Müsstler, intends.

This sceptre business sure is one crazy law, but it serves the purpose of being our story’s MacGuffin, what the villains want to take and what Tintin dedicates himself to protecting. Clever storycraft merges here with Hergé’s sense of fun. Snowy inadvertently steals a dinosaur bone from a museum and Tintin has his first meeting with Bianca Castafiore, prompting the singer to launch into her signature number “Margarita.” A shaken Tintin at once makes an excuse to ditch her limo and travel on by foot, coincidentally frustrating the villains on his trail.

“I would have given any excuse to escape!” he exclaims.

The actual theft of the sceptre is the standout moment of the book, both in its conception and delivery. Tintin manages to make contact with King Muscar and tells him of the plot to steal his sceptre, at that moment being photographed for Professor Alembick in a sealed-off room at the palace. Tintin is told there is nothing to fear, but when they reach the room...

What I love about this sequence is the dual-track nature of the suspense. We know there is going to be a crime committed, but wonder how as Hergé gives us no clue. At the same time, we watch Tintin plead his case to a dubious king and even go so far as to punch out one of the royal aides, whom only Tintin knows to be a traitor. So if you are like me, you are rather hoping when they get to the room, that sceptre will be gone.

Suspense is a neat enough trick for a writer to pull off; here Hergé manages it in both directions!

Funny enough, Thomson and Thompson do play a role in helping unravel the mystery of the missing sceptre. Though they fall short in demonstrating their theory, bumbling in their typical way, they put Tintin in the right direction.

Another day at the office for Thomson and Thompson. Tintin discovers they handled a bomb meant for him, and destroyed a good deal of his apartment, in an early scene from King Ottokar's Sceptre. Image from http://en.tintin.com/albums/show/id/32/page/0/0/king-ottokar-s-sceptre.

Thomson and Thompson do a lot of legwork in King Ottokar’s Sceptre, serving as Tintin’s helpers both in their home city and in Syldavia. The first time they appear, Tintin has just found himself with an unconscious body on his doorstep. Based on past performance, you expect the detectives will simply cuff Tintin and take him in for questioning. Instead they accept Tintin’s explanation, and soon after, they are for the first time accompanying him on a high-speed chase, rather than the ones doing the chasing:

“Get going! We’re all set…”

“To be precise: we’re all set!”

Having Messers. T & T on board with the Tintin Express gives King Ottokar’s Sceptre the lift it needs to overcome a sluggish beginning, and provides Tintin with needed allies once in Syldavia. Why the Syldavians call upon the services of foreigners Thomson and Thompson to solve their missing-sceptre mystery is a mystery in itself, but like the sceptre law itself, it serves the story.

King Ottokar’s Sceptre is less enjoyable to me than either of the prior Tintin adventures. That’s not necessarily a knock on King Ottokar’s Sceptre. The Black Island, so widely praised, is simply one of the best pure adventures in the series, while The Broken Ear, so often ignored, is a sprawling, slapstick comedy. This is more a make-work effort, with Hergé spreading his wings more as artist than author.

Tintin and Snowy enjoy a job well done. The tall blond-haired man seen at profile on the far right is Hergé himself, and the woman in pink in front of him his then-wife, Germaine. Image from http://en.tintin.com/albums/show/id/32/page/0/0/king-ottokar-s-sceptre, which identifies other Hergé pals in this scene.

But Tintin had come a long way in ten years, as a look at Tintin In The Land Of The Soviets reveals. Hergé loved British mysteries, and brings a buoyant Hitchcock/Christie sensibility to work here. Even better times lay ahead. If not a standout by itself, King Ottokar’s Sceptre is a pleasant-enough way station en route to greater adventures.