"Then I sprang upon the back of Sharaz,And I heard the maiden's lips address me—'Thou in God my brother—thou—oh, Marko!Leave me not! thus wretched do not leave me!'Therefore, mother! wretched do I lowly penance:Thus, my mother! have I gold o'erflowing,Therefore seek I righteous deeds unceasing."
"Then I sprang upon the back of Sharaz,And I heard the maiden's lips address me—'Thou in God my brother—thou—oh, Marko!Leave me not! thus wretched do not leave me!'
Therefore, mother! wretched do I lowly penance:Thus, my mother! have I gold o'erflowing,Therefore seek I righteous deeds unceasing."
In these pesmas one has glimpses not only of all the neighbors who warred upon the Serbians, but of Christian malcontents going over to the Church of Rome or sowing dissensions at home. A careful reader can get an almost complete picture of the Serbian life after the Conquest, painted, to be sure, in high colors.
In most of the Serbian heroic pesmas there is little of that superstitious element that marks the ordinary life of the Serb to-day, except in the almost constant presence of the Vila. Marko's Vila never loses an opportunity to help him, to warn him, and even to scold him.
The Serbian Vila, so conspicuous in Serbian song and story, may be roughly defined as a guardian angel. She is a vaguely beautiful maiden born of the dew and nurtured in a mysterious mountain and seems to combine qualities of both classic and northern mythologies. She has qualities which are even essentially Christian, for sometimes she expresses her belief in God and St. John, and always she has a deadly hatred for the Turk. No higher compliment can be paid a lady than to say, "as fair as the mountain Vila," and a steed "swift as a Vila" means one of great value. Occasionally Marko reproves his Vila Rayviola and once when she has shot an arrow through the throat and anotherthrough the head of his friend Milosh, he pursues her among the clouds on his horse Sharaz and brings her to earth with his club, ungallantly adding: "Thou hadst better give him healing herbs lest thou shalt not carry longer thy head upon thy shoulders." But generally Marko's attitude is more affectionate: "Where art thou now, my sister-in-God, thou Vila?"
There are in existence about thirty-eight poems and twice as many prose legends detailing the thrilling exploits of Marko. In spite of certain accounts of his death, it is generally thought that he never died, but withdrew to a cave near the castle of Prilip and is still asleep there. At times he awakes and looks to see if a sword has come out of a rock where he thrust it to the hilt. When it is out of the rock, he will know that the time has come for him to appear among the Serbians once more to reestablish the Empire destroyed at Kossovo. Even now, on occasions, he may appear to help his disheartened country-men.An interesting story of the War of 1912-13 is told that bears directly on this belief. The Serbian forces were storming the fort at Prilip when their general ordered a delay. In spite of this, they pushed on and ran straight to the castle of the royal prince, Marko. The general trembled, believing that without the help of his artillery, for which he was waiting, these men of the infantry would be wholly destroyed. But even while dreading this, he saw the Serbian national colors flying from the donjon of Marko's castle. His Serbs had driven the Turks away and were victorious, as it proved, with little loss of life. When he reproved them for risking so much: "But we were ordered by Prince Marko, did you not see him on his Sharaz? Prince Marko commanded us all the time—'Forward! forward!'" They really believed that they had seen their hero.
Two passages from the heroic pesmas may serve to show Marko under differentaspects. In the first he has been invited by the Grand Vizier to go hunting, in company with twelve Turks. He has obeyed the Vizier's command and has loosed his falcon.
Then the princely Marko loosed his falcon;To the clouds of heaven aloft he mounted;Then he sprung upon the gold-wing'd swimmer—Seized him—rose, and down they fell together.When the bird of Amurath sees the struggle,He becomes indignant with vexation:'Twas of old his custom to play falsely—For himself alone to gripe his booty:So he pounces down on Marko's falcon,To deprive him of his well-earn'd trophy.But the bird was valiant as his master;Marko's falcon has the mind of Marko:And his gold-wing'd prey he will not yield him.Sharply turns he round on Amurath's falcon,And he tears away his proudest feathers.Soon as the Visir observes the contest,He is fill'd with sorrow and with anger;Rushes on the falcon of Prince Marko,Flings him fiercely 'gainst a verdant fir-tree,And he breaks the falcon's dexter pinion.Marko's noble falcon groans in suffering,As the serpent hisses from the cavern.Marko flies to help his favourite falcon,Binds with tenderness the wounded pinion,And with stifled rage the bird addresses:"Woe for thee, and woe for me, my falcon!I have left my Servians—I have huntedWith the Turks—and all these wrongs have suffer'd."
Then the princely Marko loosed his falcon;To the clouds of heaven aloft he mounted;Then he sprung upon the gold-wing'd swimmer—Seized him—rose, and down they fell together.When the bird of Amurath sees the struggle,He becomes indignant with vexation:'Twas of old his custom to play falsely—For himself alone to gripe his booty:So he pounces down on Marko's falcon,To deprive him of his well-earn'd trophy.But the bird was valiant as his master;Marko's falcon has the mind of Marko:And his gold-wing'd prey he will not yield him.Sharply turns he round on Amurath's falcon,And he tears away his proudest feathers.
Soon as the Visir observes the contest,He is fill'd with sorrow and with anger;Rushes on the falcon of Prince Marko,Flings him fiercely 'gainst a verdant fir-tree,And he breaks the falcon's dexter pinion.Marko's noble falcon groans in suffering,As the serpent hisses from the cavern.Marko flies to help his favourite falcon,Binds with tenderness the wounded pinion,And with stifled rage the bird addresses:"Woe for thee, and woe for me, my falcon!I have left my Servians—I have huntedWith the Turks—and all these wrongs have suffer'd."
But Marko did not content himself with words and the Grand Vizier had hardly time to warn his companions when Marko cleft his head asunder and proceeded to cut each of his twelve companions in two. After deliberation he went to the Sultan and told what he had done. The Sultan laughed, for he was afraid of the light in Marko's eyes and chose to dissemble: "If thou hadst not behaved thus I would no longer have called thee my son. Any Turk may become Grand Vizier, but there is no hero to equal Marko," and he dismissed Marko with presents.
In the second, "The Death of Marko," he has been warned by the Vila that his death is near, and he obeys her commands.
Marko did as counsell'd by the Vila.When he came upon the mountain summit,To the right and left he look'd around him;Then he saw two tall and slender fir-trees;Fir-trees towering high above the forest,Covered all with verdant leaves and branches.Then he rein'd his faithful Sharaz backwards,Then dismounted—tied him to the fir-tree;Bent him down, and looked into the fountain,Saw his face upon the water mirror'd,Saw his death-day written on the water.Tears rush'd down the visage of the hero:"O thou faithless world!—thou lovely flow'ret!Thou wert lovely—a short pilgrim's journey—Short—though I have seen three centuries over—And 'tis time that I should end my journey!"Then he drew his sharp and shining sabre,Drew it forth—and loosed the sabre-girdle;And he hasten'd to his faithful Sharaz:With one stroke he cleft his head asunder,That he never should by Turk be mounted,Never be disgraced in Turkish service,Water draw, or drag a Moslem's Jugum.Soon as he had cleaved his head asunder,Graced a grave he for his faithful Sharaz,Nobler grave than that which held his brother.Then he broke in four his trusty sabre,That it might not be a Moslem's portion,That it might not be a Moslem's triumph,That it might not be a wreck of Marko,Which the curse of Christendom should follow.Soon as he in four had broke his sabre,Next he broke his trusty lance in seven;Threw the fragments to the fir-trees' branches.Then he took his club, so terror-striking,In his strong right hand, and swiftly flung it,Flung it from the mountain of Urvina,Far into the azure, gloomy ocean.To his club thus spake the hero Marko:"When my club returneth from the ocean,Shall a hero come to equal Marko."When he thus had scatter'd all his weapons,From his breast he drew a golden tablet;From his pocket drew unwritten paper,And the princely Marko thus inscribed it:"He who visits the Urvina mountain,He who seeks the fountain 'neath the fir-trees,And there finds the hero Marko's body,Let him know that Marko is departed.When he died, he had three well-fill'd purses:How well fill'd? Well fill'd with golden ducats.One shall be his portion, and my blessing,Who shall dig a grave for Marko's body:Let the second be the church's portion;Let the third be given to blind and maim'd ones,That the blind through earth in peace may wander,And with hymns laud Marko's deeds of glory."And when Marko had inscribed the letter,Lo! he stuck it on the fir-tree's branches,That it might be seen by passing travellers.In the front he threw his golden tablets,Doff'd his vest of green, and spread it calmlyOn the grass, beneath a sheltering fir-tree;Cross'd him, and lay down upon his garment;O'er his eyes he drew his samur-kalpak,Laid him down,—yes! laid him down for ever.By the fountain lay the clay-cold MarkoDay and night; a long, long week he lay there.Many travellers pass'd, and saw the hero,—Saw him lying by the public path-way;And while passing said, "The hero slumbers!"Then they kept a more than common distance,Fearing that they might disturb the hero.
Marko did as counsell'd by the Vila.When he came upon the mountain summit,To the right and left he look'd around him;Then he saw two tall and slender fir-trees;Fir-trees towering high above the forest,Covered all with verdant leaves and branches.Then he rein'd his faithful Sharaz backwards,Then dismounted—tied him to the fir-tree;Bent him down, and looked into the fountain,Saw his face upon the water mirror'd,Saw his death-day written on the water.
Tears rush'd down the visage of the hero:"O thou faithless world!—thou lovely flow'ret!Thou wert lovely—a short pilgrim's journey—Short—though I have seen three centuries over—And 'tis time that I should end my journey!"
Then he drew his sharp and shining sabre,Drew it forth—and loosed the sabre-girdle;And he hasten'd to his faithful Sharaz:With one stroke he cleft his head asunder,That he never should by Turk be mounted,Never be disgraced in Turkish service,Water draw, or drag a Moslem's Jugum.Soon as he had cleaved his head asunder,Graced a grave he for his faithful Sharaz,Nobler grave than that which held his brother.Then he broke in four his trusty sabre,That it might not be a Moslem's portion,That it might not be a Moslem's triumph,That it might not be a wreck of Marko,Which the curse of Christendom should follow.Soon as he in four had broke his sabre,Next he broke his trusty lance in seven;Threw the fragments to the fir-trees' branches.Then he took his club, so terror-striking,In his strong right hand, and swiftly flung it,Flung it from the mountain of Urvina,Far into the azure, gloomy ocean.To his club thus spake the hero Marko:"When my club returneth from the ocean,Shall a hero come to equal Marko."
When he thus had scatter'd all his weapons,From his breast he drew a golden tablet;From his pocket drew unwritten paper,And the princely Marko thus inscribed it:"He who visits the Urvina mountain,He who seeks the fountain 'neath the fir-trees,And there finds the hero Marko's body,Let him know that Marko is departed.When he died, he had three well-fill'd purses:
How well fill'd? Well fill'd with golden ducats.One shall be his portion, and my blessing,Who shall dig a grave for Marko's body:Let the second be the church's portion;Let the third be given to blind and maim'd ones,That the blind through earth in peace may wander,And with hymns laud Marko's deeds of glory."
And when Marko had inscribed the letter,Lo! he stuck it on the fir-tree's branches,That it might be seen by passing travellers.In the front he threw his golden tablets,Doff'd his vest of green, and spread it calmlyOn the grass, beneath a sheltering fir-tree;Cross'd him, and lay down upon his garment;O'er his eyes he drew his samur-kalpak,Laid him down,—yes! laid him down for ever.
By the fountain lay the clay-cold MarkoDay and night; a long, long week he lay there.Many travellers pass'd, and saw the hero,—Saw him lying by the public path-way;And while passing said, "The hero slumbers!"Then they kept a more than common distance,Fearing that they might disturb the hero.
TThe Nations of Europe that had over-looked Serbia in her days of strength—she was so young, and so far away, half hidden in her wilderness of mountains—the Nations of Europe that had turned deaf ears to her cries when the Turk attacked her, began to make inquiries about the little sister. She had been asleep so long that some of them really imagined her dead. But they heard some plaintive music: they recognized her voice as she sang. They saw that she was not only alive, but awake, thoroughly wide awake, and that she was asking for help. But they had troubles enough of their own—revolutions and things of that kind. The people were altogether too troublesome—so at least the rulers said—and the people, who ought to have heeded poor Serbia's cries, did not take time to find out just who she was, and what she desired. All might have been different had they known that Serbia was one of themselves, acknowledging no privileged classes and desiring little but a chance to get on her feet and walk alone. For this she needed space to expand in, space in which to exhale the spirit of freedom that filled her.The Turk, her master, was growing weaker. She could almost strike off her own shackles when suddenly a deliverer came—one of her own people, a son of her mountains.
The Nations of Europe that had over-looked Serbia in her days of strength—she was so young, and so far away, half hidden in her wilderness of mountains—the Nations of Europe that had turned deaf ears to her cries when the Turk attacked her, began to make inquiries about the little sister. She had been asleep so long that some of them really imagined her dead. But they heard some plaintive music: they recognized her voice as she sang. They saw that she was not only alive, but awake, thoroughly wide awake, and that she was asking for help. But they had troubles enough of their own—revolutions and things of that kind. The people were altogether too troublesome—so at least the rulers said—and the people, who ought to have heeded poor Serbia's cries, did not take time to find out just who she was, and what she desired. All might have been different had they known that Serbia was one of themselves, acknowledging no privileged classes and desiring little but a chance to get on her feet and walk alone. For this she needed space to expand in, space in which to exhale the spirit of freedom that filled her.The Turk, her master, was growing weaker. She could almost strike off her own shackles when suddenly a deliverer came—one of her own people, a son of her mountains.
When her master was driven away, Serbia began to look about her, a little humbly at first, for she was trying to understand herself. She saw that she needed education before she could take her proper place in the world. So she set herself bravely to learn from books. She noticed that the stronger Nations were governed by rules, and she gave herself a Constitution patterned on theirs. Regular work was hard for her, but she worked diligently and saved a little, though disinclined to hoard. She had rich treasures hidden away but she had never thought about them, even as playthings. What does a child care for diamonds? But when it was made clear to her that wealth is power, she worked more heartily.
The other Nations began to admit that Serbia was no longer Nobody. Indeed she was so near being Somebody that many thought it would be wise to win her friendship, and wiser to put her under obligations. So when she asked for an Hereditary Prince, presto! the thing was accomplished! though once she had hardly dared ask more than the privilege of naming her own chief.
In outward aspect Serbia began to be more like other people, although some of her neighbors remembered too well her hoydenish days and heryears of poverty. Still, they could flatter her sometimes, for she held the key to certain things that several of them needed—trade routes, fertile lands, and other things that no ambitious Nation should live without. Soon some of her neighbors desired to control the sale of things that modestly enough she had begun to offer to the world. She had heard that money was power, and she hoped to send her goods to market in the best way. She noticed that every one who made a success of business had a place by the sea. In the whole family of Nations she was the only one who had not a place by the sea, except the littlest one perched up in the high mountains. But this little one makes a success by trading in beauty. Yet beauty is an intangible thing to carry to any market and is best disposed of in the mountains themselves.
When Serbia first expressed her longing for the sea every one frowned. "Impossible!" There were other things that ought to please her as well—opportunities to help them in their wars, little snips of territory here and there if she helped them gain anything. But a seaport—ridiculous! Why, the Imperial cousin on one side of her would be insulted! What better could little Serbia wish than to market her goods to him, or at least send them over routes he had picked out?
Then Serbia said less and thought more. She sang less, but she composed more songs, andshe listened to the people talking, not singing. She found she could not live by poetry alone. The Young Serbs and the Panslavs told her their plans and she looked hopefully at her big fur-clad Cousin. But though with him it wasn't a question of trade, he had ambitions of his own. He wasn't sure but that Serbia with a seat by the sea might watch him too closely. Then all the others in the great family of Nations took sides with one or the other.
Serbia was restless, but she knew she could wait. Her household was now much more closely united than in the days of her youth, and she had realized what had once seemed a vain dream—comparative independence. So she could wait!
WWho would look at pictures of massacres extending throughout Serbia! at plundered villages! at tortured women and fatherless children shrieking in agony! All the horrors inflicted by the Turks on the Serbs in the early nineteenth century were the convulsive movements of one near his end. The Turk himself was growing weaker and weaker, and his weakness was Serbia's opportunity. But where was the man to lead her out of bondage? There was now no heir to her throne, the throne of what had once been a proud kingdom. Assassination and exile had led also to the passing of the old nobility. Although the family of the ancient kings was no more, the old racial stock had little changed. The Serbs were still of the same indomitable race, still breathing the spirit of freedom, still bound to one another in a true brotherhood. Yet, loyal though theywere, ready to die for Serbia, where could they look for a leader?
Who would look at pictures of massacres extending throughout Serbia! at plundered villages! at tortured women and fatherless children shrieking in agony! All the horrors inflicted by the Turks on the Serbs in the early nineteenth century were the convulsive movements of one near his end. The Turk himself was growing weaker and weaker, and his weakness was Serbia's opportunity. But where was the man to lead her out of bondage? There was now no heir to her throne, the throne of what had once been a proud kingdom. Assassination and exile had led also to the passing of the old nobility. Although the family of the ancient kings was no more, the old racial stock had little changed. The Serbs were still of the same indomitable race, still breathing the spirit of freedom, still bound to one another in a true brotherhood. Yet, loyal though theywere, ready to die for Serbia, where could they look for a leader?
In the early part of 1804, Mustapha Pasha, the Turkish Governor of Belgrade, was much too kind and benign a man to suit the Janissaries and the Dahias, their leaders. They had dealt slaughter right and left, and at last had killed Mustapha himself because he had opposed their cruelty. While they were planning a general massacre of the most eminent Serbs in the country, all Serbs who could were fleeing to the mountains. The rumored massacre was the last straw, and a silent cry arose, "Oh, for the right man!" Then came the whisper that a leader had been found—Karageorges, Black George, a prosperous raiser of swine, at this time about forty years old. He had served in the Austrian armies nearly twenty years before under Joseph I, that Emperor who, of all the Austrian monarchs, is said to have meant the most and to have done the least.
Karageorges, Black George, so called either on account of his dark complexion or his moody disposition, a brave man and a man of character, had fled to the Sumadia for safety. He had great influence among the large body of refugees in that beautiful forest region of secure mountain fastnesses. Karageorges was a blunt, plain man, and honest. He had a strong sense of justice, though notably hot tempered. At the meeting, when he was chosen leader, there were about five hundred Serbs, men all under arms. In responding to their request that he would lead them against the Turks, he said: "Again, brothers, I cannot accept, for if I accepted I certainly would do much not to your liking. If one of you were taken in the smallest treachery, the least faltering, I would punish him in the most fearful manner." "We want it so, we want it so!" they cried. When he saw that they were in earnest, Karageorges accepted the office they conferred on him and the Archpriest of Bonvokikreceived and consecrated his oath. Upon this Karageorges took supreme control of the insurrection.
At this same meeting, in the little village of Oorshats, they organized a National Assembly. At first the Serbs with tactics worthy an Oriental managed to keep the Sultan's attention from their insurrection by protesting that they were in arms not against the Sultan himself but against the Dahias, who, by disobeying him, were the real rebels. Deceived, or willing to seem deceived, the Porte let them work out their own plans. But the battle of Ivankovitz awoke The Sublime Porte. Turks defeated by Serbs! The world had never heard of such a thing! In vain Napoleon advised The Porte to take no notice of the Serb insurrection. It was merely part of a Russian plot! Soon the army of Karageorges was before Shabaz, where the Turks were intrenched. The Turkish commander shouted from the heights, ordering Karageorges andhis men to give up their weapons. "Come and get them!" cried Karageorges. In a short time the Serb leader and his army were in Shabaz, from which the enemy had fled in great disorder. Austria was now too intent upon her own war with Napoleon to give the Serbs the help they sought. She merely advised them to make peace with The Porte. In accordance with her usual policy, she wished to cramp the little State within small limits, subject to her interests. Russia, though more sympathetic, had little thought to spare for Serbia. At this moment she herself was trying to make an alliance with Turkey against Napoleon, but she did advise Serbia not to accept the recent offer of The Porte to give her self-government and to recognize Karageorges.
Pathetic enough was the vacillation of Serbia between Austria and Russia. Had Austria been more responsive, Karageorges would have preferred closer relations with her. But while Austria wasindifferent to Serbia's advances the Tsar, showing more interest in Serbia's affairs, agreed to send his agent to her. He promised help also if the Serbians would agree to all things initiated by the Russian government. Austria was disturbed. Serbia was too bold; she must be watched!
Like most really great men Karageorges, even when first acclaimed his country's deliverer, had enemies. The old question of centralization and decentralization had come up. Many thought him too autocratic. The enemies of Serbia encouraged decentralization. Divided, she would be easier to subdue. Russia disapproved of many things done by Karageorges. But he had the strong support of the Sumadia in whatever he did. When the Turks again tried to invade Serbia, Russian and Serbian troops, fighting side by side, drove them away. But for the party troubles, but for the loudly expressed ill will of leaders of the opposition, Karageorges might have been happy.
Though Serbs fought side by side with Russians until 1812, it happened that no important battles took place on Serbian territory. During these years Serbia not only had self-government, but she somewhat increased her boundaries by lands taken from neighboring Pashiliks. Yet she had her disappointments. Turkey, when Russia's war with Napoleon began, disregarded the few concessions made to Serbia by the Peace of Bucharest. At last, the Grand Vizier led his army against Serbia, and although her men fought bravely, they had to draw back from the frontier. Then a strange thing happened! With no obvious reason, Karageorges went back to Belgrade with the army reserves. Without staying there even for a day, he and part of his officers practically deserted the army. Crossing the Danube into Austria, they forsook their country in her day of trial. With them went the Russian consul and the Metropolitan and many leading Serbians with their families.
The downfall of Karageorges was due to no fault of his. No one ever doubted his courage, and could he have had his own way, when he saw the impossibility of pushing back the enemy, he would have gone again to his stronghold in the Sumadia, there to fight to the last. But there was a frontier to be defended, and Serbs owning property along the rivers begged for protection. The army was not large enough to accomplish all that was demanded of it. The Turks were victorious and with their victory there began again a series of acts of unspeakable cruelty.
Among the Serbs who remained in Serbia when Karageorges and his friends crossed over into Austria was Milosh Obrenovitch. He had not only served with Karageorges in the Austrian armies, but he had worked for him as a keeper of swine on his Sumadia estate. During the recent revolution he had helped his great leader by watching the Balkan passes for unfriendly Bosnians and Albanians.
When Milosh saw that the Turks were, for the time at least, masters, he offered to help them reconquer the Serbs. In reality, faithful to his own people, he was only waiting a chance to aid them. The time came and one memorable Palm Sunday, 1817, he appeared near the church at Tokova and the people called upon him to lead them against the Turks. He told them that this would be a difficult undertaking. "We know that, but we are ready for anything. Dost thou not see that we perish as it is?" "Here am I," he replied. "There stand you!" "War to the Turks! With us is God and the right." Then arms were brought out from underground hiding places. His men were ready and Milosh led them on to victory over the Turks. When later the Turks came to treat with him, they made him tribute collector. Many of the Serb chiefs were therefore displeased and wished to fight openly. They suspected Milosh of double-dealing. Among thesewas Karageorges who had landed unexpectedly in Serbia. Karageorges and Milosh were no longer friends. One explanation of this was that Milosh suspected Karageorges of poisoning his brother Milan, who had died suddenly, but no one who really knew Karageorges could suspect him of using poison to a rid himself of an enemy.
But the world does believe that Milosh betrayed Karageorges to the Turks. Certainly the latter was murdered by the Turkish Governor's men—beheaded in the lonely house where he was sleeping. This was a pathetic end for a great life that had held as many melodramatic as tragic events. Karageorges was a true patriot. He was neither cruel nor blood-thirsty, though circumstances often compelled severity. A glance at his portrait shows his nobility of character. That he was a lover of law and justice was evident by his promptly establishing a system of law-courts for Serbia. He reduced taxation, and though he couldneither read nor write—or because of this—he zealously supported education. He hoped that the time would come when Serbia need no longer send outside to get the trained men whose help she needed. He established many good public schools, among them the High School at Belgrade, which later grew into the University.
Among his tragic moments was that one when he had to shoot his father in order to prevent his torture by the Turks, and that other when he refused to save his brother from execution when he found he deserved the death penalty. More melodramatic than tragic was a critical moment in the National Assembly when members sat with pistols held at their heads that they might not act foolishly.
Though not a crowned King, in name, Karageorges had all the power of a monarch. Yet with so much at his command he retained his taste for the simplest life. His dress was that of the peasantand, even when Chief Executive of Serbia, he often cooked his own meals in the kitchen of his dwelling.
After the death of Karageorges the efforts of Serbia to have Turkey recognize her dragged on. At last, in 1820, the Sultan by a special bérat made Serbia a hereditary princedom. This was a long step in the right direction.
Milosh, feeling secure in his seat, did well by his country, and better by himself. Years after his death, Serbs in gossiping groups would recount the divers ways in which Milosh had filled his coffers. His keenness for the main chance, and his general canniness, all his subjects admired hugely. But the burly neighbor looking on was less pleased. Why did a little struggling State trouble herself so about education, and economical housekeeping? Why should she try to attain the impossible? Then, to show poor Serbia how impossible her ambitions were, Russia frowned and agreed with those who thought thehereditary Prince too autocratic. In eastern Europe there was room for only one Autocrat. "Moreover," muttered Russia, "why should an Autocrat give a Constitution to Serbia?" A threat was mingled with the muttering—and Milosh withdrew the Constitution.
Yet Russia used her influence so strongly with Turkey that Great Britain began to take an interest in Serbia. The young State was growing too fast, there was no telling where she might wander. She needed a guardian—some one to watch her, to note where she was going and tell her she must not. So Great Britain sent Colonel Hodges to Serbia as her General Consul, and he whispered—for Russia must not hear him—that in case Serbia had trouble with Russia, Great Britain and France would stand by her. Next, the Porte, never before known as a constitution maker, invited Milosh to send deputies to Constantinople to plan a new Constitution for Serbia. But Milosh foundthis new Constitution no better than the one Russia had made him withdraw. Alas for Milosh! alas for Serbia! Although the new Constitution was to have the guarantee of the Great Powers, the Constitution itself would not hold water. A few months later, the authority of the Prince of Serbia was modified. It was ordered that he should have a Council of seventy life members. He had desired Councillors whom he could appoint and dismiss at will, but Turkey, forgetting a promise to Great Britain, had yielded to Russia. As the Constitution required Milosh to appoint the most distinguished men in his realm as Councillors, and as at this time Serbia's men of influence were chiefly his enemies, he was disturbed. Although the British Ambassador counseled patience, Milosh plotted to do away with this Constitution by a military vote. When his plans fell through, he abdicated, in June, 1839, and retired to his home in Wallachia. Before abdicating, however, Milosh hadto sign the Constitution imposed upon him at the instigation of Russia, and this limiting of the power of the hereditary Prince was a good thing for Serbia.
Milan, the eldest son of Milosh, survived but three weeks after his father's abdication. Michel, the younger son, succeeded him. While he was wrangling with the Porte and Russia, Vuychitch, a Councillor, started a rebellion and Michel, not knowing what else to do, left Serbia. This suited Vuychitch and soon the National Parliament elected the son of Karageorges Prince of Serbia. Serbia was quiet and prosperous during his reign, but Alexander himself was of a timid and wavering temperament, not even bold enough to summons a National Assembly. Friendly to Turkey and to Austria, rather than to Russia, he pleased no one of them, and finally, when he did call a National Assembly, the Council dethroned him. Old Milosh was now asked to return and the change of rulers was made without excitement or disorder.
At the death of Milosh after three short years, his son, the exiled Michel, returned to the throne. In his exile he had grown wiser and he was ready with a definite program for Serbia's good. He saw that if his country was to be respected, her independence must be guarded. First among his many reforms was a new Constitution to replace the one Russia had imposed on Serbia. Michel was a good diplomatist and, in 1862, when the Turkish Government at Belgrade bombarded Belgrade, he demanded the evacuation of all the forts, and some of them complied. Next he sent his wife to London—the beautiful Julia, Countess Hunyadi. She interested Gladstone, Bright, and other influential Englishmen in little Serbia. He armed and drilled a national army and had an understanding with Greece and other Balkan states for a general uprising against the Turks. Finally he requested the Sultan to remove all Turkish garrisons in Serbia, and when Great Britain supportedthe advice the other Great Powers gave the Sultan, the later, at last, gave up the forts to Michel. Michel did much for Serbia. He built good highways, laid out parks, and gave her many fine public buildings, including an opera house. He was among the first to emphasize Serbia's need of a seaport, and he was equally far-sighted in many other matters.
Michel had no children and when the Karageorges exiles heard that he meant to divorce his wife and remarry, their own hopes of power in Serbia faded. Poor Michel, their victim, was assassinated in the spring of 1868. No change of dynasty followed Michel's death. Serbia proclaimed as Prince, Milan, son of a first cousin of Milosh the elder.
Milan's early years had been spent in Paris, and the kind of education he received there left its bad impress on his whole life. When confirmed by the Skupchtina he was barely thirteen, andlittle more than of age when, five years later, urged by Panslavists, he had a war with Turkey. Although Serbia was defeated, this war forced the Balkan situation, and the attention of Europe was turned toward the little Nation that held the key to the Balkans. Milan had made strategic mistakes, and when the vast Turkish army was invading Serbia, he called on the Great Powers for help. While they hesitated, Russia ordered Abdul Hamid to sign an immediate truce. When Russia within a few weeks of this went to war with Turkey, Serbia, in spite of her recent losses, was able to help her. After capturing Vrania, Pirot, and Nish, Serbia had the joy of celebrating Mass on the Field of Kossovo where five hundred years before she had lost everything.
Yet at the Peace of Stefano Serbia did not get a fair reward. Her welfare was but a shuttlecock, beaten back and forth between great nations. She could secure, at the Berlin Congress, neithercomplete independence nor the annexation of certain territories she hoped for. But at this Congress Austria gained her own ends by giving Serbia two strong neighbors for watchdogs, Bulgaria and East Roumelia. She also imposed a barrier between Serbia and her strongly desired goal—the sea.
When Milan saw that he could not depend on Russia, whom he had been brought up to regard as a friend, he turned to Austria. He began to pay long visits to Vienna. Thus he angered both his own people and the Tsar, but Austria was always ready to give him the money his manner of life required. The building of new railways threw the Nation into debt, and between the advice given first by Progressives, then by Radicals, Milan the ne'er-do-well could barely enjoy a life devoted to pleasure. At the beginning of his reign the Porte had acknowledged him hereditary Prince of Serbia, but Milan, aiming higher, in 1882 had himself proclaimed King. Notlong after this, in a war with Bulgaria, he had to retreat ingloriously before Prince Alexander of Battenberg. Indeed, now, as on other occasions throughout his reign, Milan behaved like the proverbial spoiled child. Sometimes, fearing his people might use a rod made of something more stinging than words, he would completely disarm them in a brilliant speech. When things were at their very worst his statesmen would extricate him. Yet gradually he lost influence with the Nation in spite of the new Constitution which gave them most things that enlightened nations seek. But various happenings were tending to estrange him from his people, not the least of which was his undignified quarrel with his wife, with whom, even after their divorce, he continued to bicker about their son. Milan was rather a blunderer than a villain, and as he had managed to hold the affection of his people through all his misdeeds, political or domestic, his abdication was a greatsurprise. He went away suddenly to live in Paris the life he preferred, after making provision that Alexander, his son, should succeed him.
Alexander was but a boy of fourteen when he came to the throne—a subnormal boy, and wilful, too. As an Autocrat he had no rival among modern Serbian rulers. No one unmade and made so many Constitutions. No Prince or King of Serbia surprised his people with so many coups d'état. But the time had passed when the misdoings of a ruler could make the people of Serbia very unhappy. Although the King never failed to show that he despised not only statesmen and scholars but even distinguished army officers, he could terrorize neither individuals nor the Nation. The three great parties, Liberal, Radical, and Progressive, were not afraid to express opinions, and many reforms were projected and carried out. Serbs as a whole were anxious to be counted among the people of the world of intelligenceand culture. Alexander and Draga mortified them; but the assassination of the wretched pair lowered the Nation in the estimation of humanity.
Less than a week had passed since the killing of the King and Queen, in the spring of 1903, when the Skupchtina elected Peter Karageorgevitch to the throne. This grandson of Karageorges had been an exile for forty-five of his fifty-seven years of life. Austria and Russia alone among the Great Powers were willing now to recognize him. Great Britain waited three years before sending back her Minister to Serbia. This was after the regicides had gone from the country.
SSo Serbia was no longer a child, and she wore a royal crown. She even had to be considered by the family of Nations when making plans. Some members of the family, indeed, would like to have made all her plans for Serbia, without intimating that in so doing they would profit themselves. Serbia realized that there were things she could not do without the consent of some, or even all of them; but she did not wonder why—for Serbia herself had grown up, and it wasn't merely a physical development. She understood a great many things that in her more primitive days she could not have comprehended.
So Serbia was no longer a child, and she wore a royal crown. She even had to be considered by the family of Nations when making plans. Some members of the family, indeed, would like to have made all her plans for Serbia, without intimating that in so doing they would profit themselves. Serbia realized that there were things she could not do without the consent of some, or even all of them; but she did not wonder why—for Serbia herself had grown up, and it wasn't merely a physical development. She understood a great many things that in her more primitive days she could not have comprehended.
Sometimes they fought among themselves, with an occasional black eye for one or the other, because they found it hard to decide, not what they could do for Serbia—the youngest and most inexperienced—but what they could get from her without her discovering their motives, without the others objecting. They forgot that Serbia was no longer a child; they did not know that she could spy self-interest in the proffers they made her. So she was coldly distant with them at times, though she leaned most toward the big, fur-clad Cousin from the North. He was closer of kin, a double relation, and he seemed less mercenarythan some of them. But even he could not get her a home facing the sea. She longed so ardently for this! Why did every one hinder her? The Imperial Cousin on the West was determined to stop her. Had he not given refuge to her exiled children in the days of darkness? Had he not let them win victories for him when she had hardly a friend in the world? Was it likely—as human nature goes—that he had done this without expecting a reward? No, she must be reasonable and must let him have the first choice of all that she had to sell, and at his own price. Should she reach the sea, others would tempt her. She would find all sorts of people there anxious to trade with her—new people whom she herself had never yet had a chance to help. No! he, the Imperial Cousin, knew what was best for her. The only trade route for her was the one through his land. She must send her things that way and, after he had looked them over, if there was anything he did not wish, she might sell it to some one else. Moreover, of course, she must pay whatever he charged for transportation and customs as she passed through his country.
But Serbia had grown more sophisticated. Her costume of red and gold still followed the old lines; indeed, only a close observer could see any changes in it. But the material was richer than formerly, and she had thrown aside the little veil—symbol, as it seemed to her, of thedarkening oppression of the Ottoman. Her people were clamoring around her. They assured her they were not lazy, though perhaps a little slower than some of their neighbors. Their fields yielded abundantly. They discovered that by digging they could get much wealth, not only from the surface but from their rocks far below. They must be able to exchange it—to send it readily where they wished. Why, why, since they were willing to pay for it, could they not have a seaport of their own?
But there was another who was determined to hold Serbia back. She did not know him well; for though he bore the Imperial eagle, he had appropriated a title that belonged to the old house that for a time had held the world in its grasp. She would not call him a parvenu—not wholly a parvenu—yet why should he trouble her? She was not really in his way. Could it be that he was trying to curry favor with the turbaned Turk, and hoped to ingratiate himself the more thoroughly by tormenting her? What had the Turk to give him? Ah! Serbia had now grown so worldly that she suspected motives in every action, even in those sometimes that were really guileless.
SSerbia, in the same latitude as France and Italy, has a similar climate, though with greater extremes of heat and cold; and its average of one hundred rainy days yearly prevents its being called a land of sunshine. With an area about equal to that of the State of New York, its population of four millions is much smaller—nearer, indeed, that of Massachusetts. About fifteen thousand of its nearly thirty-four thousand square miles of area is territory added since the Balkan wars. The rivers of Serbia flow toward the north into the Danube. Its boundary rivers, the Danube, Save, Drina, and Timok are navigable, but of those within Serbia, only the Morava is navigable, and that for but sixty miles. Serbia is not only protected by the ranges on her boundaries, but four-fifths of the surface is covered with mountains,a "chaos of mountains," a fact both helping and hindering her progress through the centuries. The general aspect of Serbia is one of beauty, with high and rugged mountains, mysterious forests, and long narrow river valleys as picturesque as fertile. Even the Sumadia, called the rallying point of the Nation, is now well cultivated and enterprising. Many medieval buildings add to the picturesqueness of the country, forts and churches perched on rocky heights or half screened in the woods.
Serbia, in the same latitude as France and Italy, has a similar climate, though with greater extremes of heat and cold; and its average of one hundred rainy days yearly prevents its being called a land of sunshine. With an area about equal to that of the State of New York, its population of four millions is much smaller—nearer, indeed, that of Massachusetts. About fifteen thousand of its nearly thirty-four thousand square miles of area is territory added since the Balkan wars. The rivers of Serbia flow toward the north into the Danube. Its boundary rivers, the Danube, Save, Drina, and Timok are navigable, but of those within Serbia, only the Morava is navigable, and that for but sixty miles. Serbia is not only protected by the ranges on her boundaries, but four-fifths of the surface is covered with mountains,a "chaos of mountains," a fact both helping and hindering her progress through the centuries. The general aspect of Serbia is one of beauty, with high and rugged mountains, mysterious forests, and long narrow river valleys as picturesque as fertile. Even the Sumadia, called the rallying point of the Nation, is now well cultivated and enterprising. Many medieval buildings add to the picturesqueness of the country, forts and churches perched on rocky heights or half screened in the woods.
Serbian towns resemble one another, with their wide, clean streets, and red-roofed houses built of stone, with suburbs that show many attractive dwellings surrounded by shrubbery. Even if the churches are not very graceful, there are many modern school buildings throughout the country. The five largest towns have—or, alas! had—from fifteen thousand to about one hundred thousand inhabitants each, from Passavowitz to Belgrade; in order, Leskovatz,Kraguievatz, and Nish, but Belgrade is by far the largest.
Although the original Serb type was probably blonde, the mingling of the Slav with the other races in the Balkans has brought it about that most Serbs are now dark-skinned and dark-haired and of only average stature. The tall blonde peasant of the Sumadia is an exception to this type, though the Serb generally has a clear gray eye.
The Serb is excitable and volatile. While holding to old things he is ready to grasp new ideas, but his new ideas he cannot always make practical. It is probably for this reason that Serbia is behind many countries in agricultural and industrial development. The Serb is not of a jealous disposition. He is ready to praise what others have done, and though tenacious of purpose he is neither dogged nor blunt like his neighbor the Bulgarian. The modern Serb desires to be well thought of. He is anxious to be measured by Western standards, yetin his heart he still cherishes many old customs. If he is less straightforward, especially in politics, than one might wish, his love of strategy may be ascribed to the many years when it took something besides physical courage to save him from the brutality of the Turk. Even his enemies admit his bravery. In general character, the Serb may be compared to the Scotch Highlander, "brave in battle, with much canniness in prosecuting material interests." All visitors to Serbia note the great hospitality of the Serb, and he shows a marked courtesy in dealing with others. He is fond of fun and laughter, as any one realizes who sees him at a festival, dancing the national dance—the kolo—to the sound of the flute and the bag-pipe, and often, afterwards, listening to the heroic verse of the guslar as he accompanies them on the gusle.
The Serb's religion is almost the same as patriotism with him. The Orthodox Church of Serbia to-day has a strongresemblance to the early Christian Church of the eighth century. "Here we know the English very well, and your Church is not unlike our own," said a Serb to an English traveler recently. The independence of the Serbian Church is largely due to the fact that the Turks did not interfere with the religious faith of the Serbs in the long dark night of oppression. Though this may have been merely from their contempt for the conquered and their Church, the result was to the advantage of the Serb.
Many Serbian traditions are contrary to the spirit of the Christian Church, but the Church early found that the only way to hold the Serb was to be patient in the hope that Christianity would eventually modify his Pagan beliefs. In few nations is there such a mingling of heathen traditions and piety. The traditions, yes, even the superstitions of the Serb helped him bear the hardships of the Turkish reign. While the Serb has held fast to Christianity for more thana thousand years and while bigotry and atheism are almost unknown in Serbia, the Serb does not attend Church devotedly. He is, however, very faithful to religious customs, though many of these originated in heathendom. The Saints are very real to him and each one has duties, yet some of them are very like the gods of mythology.
The Serb is a great observer of signs and they deeply affect his daily life. His manner of getting up, of dressing, the person whom he first meets in the day, the way the dog barks or the moon shines—all these things have some influence on his actions. Many of his superstitions naturally relate to birth, death, and marriage. Most youths and maidens know just what to do to discover their future husband or wife.
There is poetry in many Serb beliefs about death, notably that death can be foretold by the person himself or by some of his family. Very beautiful is the idea that there is a star for everyperson, that disappears when that person dies. The Serb has a strong faith in immortality. He believes in both good and bad spirits, and in witches and enchanters, as well as in the poetic Vili. He occasionally hunted and killed witches in the olden times. Vampires, too, have had an existence in his imagination. To protect himself from all these evil things, the Serb of old had various superstitious practices, and it is surprising sometimes to-day to find him cherishing primitive beliefs. As cattle raising for example is certainly one of his chief occupations, many superstitions exist and are put into practice for making the cattle healthy and fat, and for protecting them from wild beasts. The Serb also knows what charm to use to make his wheatfields grow, to prevent droughts and other things that might injure his crops or his fruit trees.
Among all their festivals, the Serbs celebrate Christmas the most elaborately, with feasts and ceremonies, manyof which come down from Pagan days. After supper, on Christmas eve, seeds and crumbs are scattered outside as a treat for the birds, which, they say, are also God's creatures. A young oak or baidnak always plays a conspicuous part in the Christmas festival and the ceremonies attending it are most picturesque. The Slava is also a most important festival. It is a family celebration and generally falls on the Feast Day of some great Saint. After a man's death, the same Slava is kept by his son. In some regions, people with the same Slava do not marry, for having the same Slava may mean that they are of the same stock. Of all people the Serbs are most scrupulous not to marry those who are nearly related to them.
While religion is so strongly a part of his daily life, the Serb is yet disinclined to engage in abstract religious discussions. This is strange since he is very fond of long political and historical arguments. An English traveler came upontwo men engaged in a fisticuff fight. When he inquired the cause, he was told that the two had a disagreement about something that had happened at the Battle of Kossovo, five hundred years before.
Although there is less now than in former times of the unique and formal swearing of brotherhood between Serb and Serb, the feeling of brotherhood is still very strong. Travelers through the country sometimes come upon rude stones erected to soldiers who have died "for the glory and freedom of his brother Serbs."
What has been said about the men applies to a great extent to the women of Serbia. It must be admitted, however, that in the interior of the country woman is still reckoned inferior to man—the plaything of youth, the nurse of old age. But the modern Serbian woman is coming to the front. She is not strong-minded in the limited sense, not anxious, like her Russian kinswoman, to mix inpolitics, yet she is deeply interested in national affairs and in crises she is always ready to help. If she does not work as hard as the Montenegrin woman she still performs much heavy labor. The men of Serbia encourage her higher ambition. Of late years, many Serb women have gone abroad for training as teachers, or to engage in technical work. Not infrequently, their expenses have been paid wholly or in part by some brother or cousin whose own earnings were small.
To tell what Serb women have done in the many wars of their country would be a long story. Not content with providing food and clothing for the soldiers and nursing the wounded, time and again they have carried guns and have fought by the side of the men of their families. This was notably the case in the late war with Bulgaria, and in the present war also many of them have served as soldiers.
The Serb woman is not willing to go out as a domestic. She prefers to earnmoney, if she has to, as a teacher, secretary, or nurse, or in a profession; but in her own home the Serb woman does no end of work. She is the first to rise, the last to go to bed, and seems never to rest, for she does all the housework. She spins, weaves, and embroiders; cooks, washes, milks the cows, makes cheese; she takes care of the children and the sick; she makes the family pottery and sometimes the opanke or shoes.
But the condition of her country the past few years has to a great extent destroyed the home life of the Serb women. Very remarkable was the "League of Death" the women formed in the war before the present. Young and old of all social conditions became good shots, and stood side by side, rifles on their shoulders, like men. They made the men wear the medal of the League. In that war women did not join the fighting troops, as in the present. But they often accompanied them on the march, carrying on notched sticks their heavy bundleswith clothes and domestic utensils, and set up their little households wherever the men happened to halt.
In the present war, Serbia has a three-fold claim on Americans: Because of the democracy of its institutions and people; because of the simplicity of life as it is lived there; and because of its centuries of struggle for political independence.
Serbia is one of the most democratic countries in the world. It has no titles, except those of the King and his next of kin. All other Serbians are "gospodin" and "gospoja," our "Mr." and "Mrs." The farmer is the real aristocrat and eighty per cent of the Serbians are farmers.
The farmer has many things in his favor. Even the peasant has five acres of land allotted him by the government; and in his home garden he raises carrots and turnips and pumpkins and melons. The larger farmers raise wheat and corn and sugar beets, oats and all the cereals; and cattle in large numbers.They raise their own food and they are chiefly vegetarians; and they carry their surplus in ox-teams to the nearest market. Prices are regulated by the Agricultural Society. Every farmer gives one or two days a year to the State and pays his taxes in kind. When crops fail, the Coöperative Agricultural Society lends him money. It also advances money for implements and buildings, and offers prizes for cattle and improved stock.
Living a simple life, the average Serbian needs little money. One dollar in Serbia is equal to five dollars here. If a farmer enters trade, he is thought to be going down in the world. He may enter banking or life insurance with no discredit, but the shopkeepers of the country are largely foreigners. In all Serbia there are hardly two-score millionaires. Serbian women are good housewives and do much of their own work. Serbians, in general, are too independent to be servants; and the latter are largely Austrians. Government employees inSerbia are natives. Young Serbians also are educated for the church, the army, for law, and for school teaching. Young men intended for the army generally study in France, for scientific work in Germany, for the church in Russia. Many young Serbians, too, have studied in Switzerland and in Belgium. Thus, Serbian society as a whole is sympathetic with foreign countries.
Of the four million inhabitants of Serbia proper, the larger number belong to the Orthodox Greek Church, but there are also a good many Roman Catholics and some Moslems. Though their life is in general very simple, Serbians are not wholly untouched by modern progress. Many towns have electric lights and telephones, and electric trams are by no means unknown. Serbia has rich mineral resources, which the State is undertaking to develop. Among their manufactures is a remarkable wool carpet and a certain kind of coarse linen. Though they have a fairly large outputof silk, silk fabrics as well as finer textiles are imported. A man who has a salary of three thousand dollars is an exception, and considered very prosperous. Salaries of cabinet ministers hardly exceed this sum, and court life does not tend to any magnificence.
Serbians marry young. There is little illegitimacy in the country and infrequent divorce. They have been called automatically eugenic—on account of their strict marriage laws forbidding marriage under certain degrees of relationship. The Serbians are a domestic people, devoted to their children; hence, the present condition of the country is especially tragic.
The people of Serbia have the greatest admiration for Americans, and for the independence and political ideas of America.
The valorous struggle of little Serbia against Austria, its tireless enemy, astonished the world at the beginning of the present war. It accomplished hardlyless for the cause of the Allies in the East than the resistance of Belgium in the West. Yet, at first, the sufferings of the more distant Serbians attracted less attention than the case demanded. Their agony continues acute and terrible.