The arrival of the Slavs and their descent—The appearance of the Serbs—Servia, before the arrival of the Serbs—The primitive Serbs—Serbs and Bulgarians in early days—Stephen Dobroslav and his son Michael—The Serb dynasty of Nemanya—Stephen Dushan and Urosh—Knjes Lazar marches against the Turks—The battle of Kossovo—The death of Knjes Lazar—Vuk Brankoviç and George, his son—Servia subjected by Mohammed II—Servia a Turkish province—Semendria—Golubaç and the Via Trajana—The Peace of Passarowitz—Serbs help Turkey—Kara George—The Treaty of Bucharest—Milosh Obrenoviç—The stern rule of Milosh Obrenoviç—Michael Obrenoviç makes way to Alexander Karageorgeviç—Milosh Obrenoviç recalled—Michael III murdered at Belgrade—King Milan—King Milan resigns—Peter I, Karageorgeviç—Servia’s war preparations—The Servian Army—The causes of the war—The Montenegrins—Montenegro declares war—The opening of hostilities—The progress of the Serbs—Capture of Monastir and Ochrida—The Serbs march from Ochrida to Alessio—Occupation of Macedonia—Turkish optimism—Alleged Servian atrocities—The credit of the Servian Army.
The arrival of the Slavs and their descent—The appearance of the Serbs—Servia, before the arrival of the Serbs—The primitive Serbs—Serbs and Bulgarians in early days—Stephen Dobroslav and his son Michael—The Serb dynasty of Nemanya—Stephen Dushan and Urosh—Knjes Lazar marches against the Turks—The battle of Kossovo—The death of Knjes Lazar—Vuk Brankoviç and George, his son—Servia subjected by Mohammed II—Servia a Turkish province—Semendria—Golubaç and the Via Trajana—The Peace of Passarowitz—Serbs help Turkey—Kara George—The Treaty of Bucharest—Milosh Obrenoviç—The stern rule of Milosh Obrenoviç—Michael Obrenoviç makes way to Alexander Karageorgeviç—Milosh Obrenoviç recalled—Michael III murdered at Belgrade—King Milan—King Milan resigns—Peter I, Karageorgeviç—Servia’s war preparations—The Servian Army—The causes of the war—The Montenegrins—Montenegro declares war—The opening of hostilities—The progress of the Serbs—Capture of Monastir and Ochrida—The Serbs march from Ochrida to Alessio—Occupation of Macedonia—Turkish optimism—Alleged Servian atrocities—The credit of the Servian Army.
IN those dark ages preceding the fall of the Western Roman Empire, Central Europe was seething with migrant nations dimly desirous of settling in some more favoured regions than the vast plains and dense forests whence they came. Among the divers races thus impelled were the Slavs. They came from what is now Southern Russia, from the banks of the Dnyepr, and penetrated far into the German Empire of the present day; traces of them have been found in Hanover, colonies of Slavs still live in that marshy part of Prussia called the “Lausitz,” and the people of East Prussia itself have a strong admixture of that non-Teuton race.
The Slavs are said to be descended from the ancientScythians, by some mistakenly held to have been Mongolians, but it is unlikely that they kept their racial purity before they set out on their wanderings, and were probably much mixed with Tartars and other Asiatics who had swarmed over their pastures and hunting-grounds.
The Hungarians, breaking into Europe along the left bank of the Danube, then settling in Hungary, drove a wedge in between the Slavs, separating them into two masses, which by environment and by mixing with other races gradually developed into distinctive nationalities. Systematic colonization by the Teutons pressed the northern Slavs back towards the east, the influx of the Bulgarians into Eastern Europe intercepted communication between the Slavs to north-eastward, and so helped to create that branch of the Slav race called the Serbs. They came in groups of families, so-called Zadrugs, out of the east, each group under its chief or Zupan, and settled in the country south of the Danube and westward of the Bulgarians some time in the beginning of the seventh century, and from that time called themselves Serbs.
To the Romans this country was known as Moesia Superior; they built here strong castles to shelter flourishing cities, Semendria, for instance, with its serried ranks of square towers. But the Romans had to make way to successive waves of savage Huns, fierce Osthro-Goths, and Langobardi, who left a wilderness behind them where they had passed. Emperor Justinian reclaimed this land and added it to his Empire in the sixth century, but the good he did was undone by the Avari, who broke in from the east and left desolation in their wake. The Serbs followed the Avari and spread beyond the Save into Bosnia and Montenegro.
The family groups united into clans, and each of these rendered service to an elected head sometimes called theGreat Zupan or Kralj (King), or again Tsar (Emperor). The maintenance of discipline was no easy matter, and frequent dissensions among the turbulent tribesmen rendered the Serbs an easy prey to their stronger neighbours. Such was the state of affairs when Christianity was introduced in the eighth century and made the Serbs subject to the Eastern Empire.
From time to time the neighbouring Bulgarians would snatch Servia from Byzant, but when Bulgaria’s power was broken by the Emperor of the East, Servia again became subject to that Empire towards the end of the tenth century.
Nearly a century later Servia produced a strong man, Stephen Dobroslav, called Boistlav by the Greeks; he forced the other Zupans into submission, assumed full power, and regained the independence of his country. His son Michael succeeded and was confirmed in the royal title of Kralj by Pope Gregory, whose aim was to lessen the power of Byzant. But herein he failed, for inner dissensions again broke out among the Serbs, the country was forced into the Eastern Empire again and suffered horribly until in 1165 another Stephen, Zupan of East Servia, reunited the scattered tribes.
This Stephen founded the Nemanya dynasty and welded the broken tribes into a strong Empire. It was called that of Rassia, after its capital Rasha, now in the Sandjak Novibazar. The House of Nemanya flourished, the Empire of Rassia overflowed its frontiers, and under Stephen Dushan, 1331-1355, included Macedonia, Albania, Thessaly, Epirus, and Bulgaria. Stephen took the title of Tsar. But with his son Stephen Urosh, a weakling, the House of Nemanya died out.
During the reign of this last Tsar dissensions had broken out again. Vukashin the Voivod rose in rebellion, renderinghis country an easy prey to a new foe, more formidable than any the Serbs had yet encountered, the Turk.
Leaving the Emperor of the East trembling in his purple throne-room, Amurath I was moving over Eastern Europe with a vast, well-disciplined army, conquering where he went. On the Amselfeld at Kossovo the Serbs first met in battle this enemy whom they have frequently met since, whom they met again so recently, perhaps for the last time in the history of Europe.
In vain had the Greek Emperor appealed to Catholic Europe for assistance as the horns of the Crescent closed in upon Byzant. But the Serbs responded to the call. Reunited once more under Knjes Lazar, the chivalry of Servia, then of high repute, joined with Albanians, Bosnians, Bulgarians, to stem the full-flowing tide of Moslems. The armies met at Kossovo and battle raged with varying fortunes till evening, but the ranks of the Christian forces were thinning rapidly. Vukashin had fallen, Knjes Lazar was captured, and Amurath’s son Bajazet, called by his men Yilderim (Lightning) struck swift and sure. Milosh Kabilovitch, a Servian knight, dashed out from among the hard-pressed chivalry and galloped forth as if deserting from the Servian ranks. He sought the presence of Amurath, alleging that he had important intelligence concerning the plans of the Allies. Kneeling before Amurath he suddenly leapt up and buried his dagger in the Sultan’s heart. His astounding strength and agility enabled him to reach the place where he had left his horse, but here he fell under the sabres of the Janissaries. Amurath survived but to the close of the battle; his last act was to order the death of Lazar, the Servian King, who, standing in chains, regaled the dying eyes of his conqueror.
Bajazet succeeded to the throne of Othman on the field of battle and divided Servia, forced to pay tribute to theSultan and render military service, between Stephen, son of Lazar, and Vuk Brankoviç. The latter’s son George, assisted by Hungarians, made a last effort to restore Servia’s independence, and succeeded; the Peace of Szeggedin in 1444 gave Servia a few more years of freedom. But after fifteen years Mohammed the Conqueror marched through Servia and put an end to its existence as an independent kingdom for many centuries. The Osmanli forced the Serbs into subjection by all the cruelties their ingenuity in that direction suggested. Nearly all the best families were extirpated, though a few managed to escape to Hungary and others took refuge among the Black Mountains, whence their descendants came down the other day, only a few weeks ago, to meet their old enemy the Turk.
The old nobility of Servia ceased to exist after Mohammed’s conquest, and those who were allowed to remain in time embraced Islam, without doing which no one under Turkish rule in those days need expect justice or chance of promotion; of the common people two hundred thousand were sold into slavery by the Osmanli soldiery, and Servia became a Turkish province, a sandjak, a purely militaryterrain d’occupation.
There are still some ancient monuments left standing which tell of the days when Servian chivalry hastened to the rescue of Constantinople and the Cross. Semendria, called Smederovo by the Serbs, once the residence of George Brankoviç, who fought for freedom by the side of Hunyadi Janos. This old Roman castle, strengthened by the Servian champion, Semendria, throws the reflections of its ruined battlements on to the waters of swift-flowing Danube.
Some way further down the river yet another castle rises sheer above the banks where the mountains close in on either side to form the Pass of Kazan. The Danube narrows down to one-third its width on entering here, itswirls round the base of a steep promontory from which the broken towers of Golubaç seem to grow as out of the living rock. Crumbling walls and towers, turrets tottering on the brink of a precipice above the swirling waters, such is Golubaç, the castle built by Vuk Brancoviç to guard the entrance to the Pass of Kazan. An important place, too, in its time, for it controlled the road hewn by Trajan’s orders out of the rock through this pass to the Iron Gates connecting Dacia Trajana with Moesia Superior.
For centuries these monuments to Servia’s former greatness stood awaiting the rise of Servia rejuvenated, Golubaç tumbling into ruins, the road it guarded falling into neglect, Semendria a stronghold of the Osmanli. But during these centuries the Serbs lost neither faith nor language nor hope of freedom. Songs and epics kept fresh the memories of former days, while the Serbs went about their daily business, tilling the soil, watching their herds of swine, living in close family union despite the storms that tore over their land as the hosts of Othman pressed westward and towards the north into Hungary, up to Vienna, or returned flushed with victory or savage because of some defeat.
Help came at last, though slowly, and from the side of Hungary as it had done three centuries before.
The power of Turkey was already on the wane, and the Treaty of Carlowitz had begun to curtail Othman conquests west and north of Belgrade. Later came the Peace of Passarowitz in 1718, which promised well for Servia, but in reality sowed the seeds of discord between that country and the House of Habsburg. A large part of Bosnia, formerly in the Kingdom of Greater Servia, was annexed to Austria. Austrian officials in the newly acquired territory failed to establish good relations between themselves and the Serbs, so the latter sided with the Turks when Emperor Charles VI began his unhappycampaign against the Sultan in 1738. This service was repaid by the cruelty and excesses of the Janissaries, driving the Serbs to assist the Austrians when Emperor Joseph II and Catherine II of Russia went to war with Sultan Mustapha III. Again no advantage accrued to Servia, and it was not till 1804 and by her own exertions that freedom came nearer to this downtrodden country.
In that year, stung into action by increased oppression at the hands of the Turks, the Serbs rose in revolt led by George Petroviç, commonly called Czrini or Czerny George (Kara George by the Turks); Belgrade was stormed on December 12th, and after some successful fights the country was swept clean of the Janissaries. The revolt continued, and as Austria had refused assistance in 1804 Servia called on Russia for help, promising to recognize that Empire’s suzerainty in return. The help offered by Russia was not very liberal and the Serbs gained many successes by their own unaided efforts in the years 1809 and 1810.
In spite of all their successful endeavours, the Serbs were unkindly treated by the Powers at the Treaty of Bucharest in 1812; they were granted a general amnesty and self-government of internal affairs, but continued to pay tribute to the Sultan and were made to surrender all captured fortresses. As a special favour the Porte allowed all those who were discontented with the results to emigrate. Turkish troops entered Servia again and wore down the forces of Kara George till he gave up the struggle and crossed over into Austria.
The struggle was taken up by Milosh Obrenoviç, who defeated Ali Pasha and was eventually proclaimed hereditary Prince when Kara George had been murdered on returning to his country. The Porte acknowledged Milosh Obrenoviç and granted Servia independent jurisdiction,free inner administration by the Treaty of Akkerman, which ended the Russo-Turkish war, and further confirmed the treaty at the Peace of Adrianople in 1829.
By bribery and corruption Milosh managed to obtain letters from the Porte in 1830 restoring six former districts to Servia. Then Milosh, feeling secure with a well-trained bodyguard, chose to rule as despot, inflicting arbitrary punishment with many cruelties on those who displeased him. Already well used to revolts the Servians rose against their chosen ruler under Avram Petronijeviç and Thoma Vuciç, and obliged Milosh to grant a constitution. Milosh resigned in favour of his son Milan. Milan lived only a short time and was succeeded by his brother Michael Obrenoviç, who made himself unpopular by levying a tax on acorns when prepared as food for pigs. Pigs are still fortune-makers for the Serbs as they were in those days, so the people revolted again. Michael fled to Austria and a son of Kara George, Alexander Karageorgeviç, was elected in his stead.
Even Alexander, a peaceful sovereign, did not please the people for long; he had a leaning towards Austria, and for this reason was called upon to abdicate. Instead of going quietly he appealed to the Porte, whereupon the Servian Parliament, the Skuptshina, recalled Milosh Obrenoviç, now seventy-eight years of age, and placed him on the unsteady throne of Servia for a second time.
Followed the son of Milosh, Michael III Obrenoviç; he reorganized the militia forces of Servia and forced the Turks to abandon the remaining fortresses they held in the land, Belgrade, Sabaç, and Semendria, and by 1867 the last Osmanli had left the country. Yet there was dissatisfaction among the Serbs, for Michael III was murdered the following year in Topshida Park at Belgrade, his new capital.
Milan Obrenoviç was then called to the throne and took sovereign rights and title in 1878, after Plevna fell and the Serbs had retrieved defeats suffered during that war against Turkey by taking Nish, Pirot, and Leskovoç from the already badly beaten Osmanli. Milan Obrenoviç became King in 1882 and sought to add to his dignity by invading Bulgaria what time that principality was occupied with a revolt in East Roumelia. The Serbs were very badly beaten at Slivniça and Pirot, by a man who knew his business thoroughly, Alexander von Battenberg, Prince of Bulgaria. This ill-success, possibly other motives, led to the resignation of King Milan, who was succeeded by Alexander I, his son. Of that monarch’s personality, his life, and ghastly death, I decline to say anything; the papers in June, 1903, were full of it—too full of it.
It was left to another Karageorgeviç, Peter I, the present King, to march once more against the old oppressor of the Serbs, and to take lands, once part of Greater Servia, from the hands of those who had so long misruled them.
While the rest of Europe was comforting itself with the disproved statement that trouble in the Balkans is always deferred till the snow melts under the rays of a spring sun, the Balkan Kingdoms had entered into an alliance against their old enemy the Turk. Notwithstanding the fact that many of those whose business it is to know such things were well aware of the preparations made by the Allies, European diplomacy lulled itself to sleep by reiterated formulæ, mumbling something aboutstatus quo. In the meantime Bulgaria, chief of the Allies, had for years been training its hardy sons to a winter campaign, and had, moreover, a most excellent secret intelligence department with its feelers all over Thrace and those parts of the peninsula likely to be immediately affected by a war. Servia had been carefully preparing for thegrand coupby reorganizing its military forces. Few people elsewhere in Europe took them seriously, remembering the ease with which Bulgaria defeated her ally some years ago, and also the ineffective clamour raised when Austria-Hungary annexed Bosnia and Herzegovina. Nevertheless it was made possible to extend the army of Servia from a peace footing of some 35,000 men to a field army of 160,000. This was accomplished out of a population of 3,000,000 inhabiting 18,800 square miles, and the total annual cost of that army is only £1,200,000. Compare this with Great Britain’s idea of insisting on her voice being heard among the armed nations of Europe on the Continent with an expeditionary force of 100,000 men out of a population of over 45,000,000! But then the Serbs have not yet had time to wax fat and indifferent to their country’s needs. Every Serb is obliged to serve his country and does so willingly. Thus the cadres of the Servian standing army swelled as townsmen and sturdy countrymen flocked to join the colours, singing as they marched out armed and eager, “Rado ide Srbin u voinike”—“Gaily the Serbs go to war.”
While Britons were enjoying the autumn holidays great things were preparing among the Balkan States, and they passed unnoticed. The tension always existent between the Allied Kingdoms and their former conqueror and master became acute in consequence of several incidents. Turkey, dimly realizing that the state of affairs was becoming more and more difficult, thought fit to seize some war materialen routeto Servia, via Saloniki and Üsküb. Again, Turkey declined to punish those who had joined in the Kochana massacres; Macedonia was roused to fury and its voice found echo in Sofia. Turkey also insisted on carrying out the manœuvres round Adrianople, planned by Field-Marshal von der Goltz, to show inmimic warfare what shortly after happened in stern reality. Servia protested strongly, so did Bulgaria. Servia mobilized with astounding rapidity, Bulgaria was ready, as every one would suppose who knows that country, its strong ruler, and efficient people. Still Western Europe said, “It is all talk, let us enjoy our holiday,” till suddenly the world was made aware of the Balkan Alliance and heard of Turkey’s declaration of war against Bulgaria and Servia.
In the meantime another of the Allies, the smallest, probably fiercest of them, had begun the dance, the Montenegrins. For centuries these people have been longing to avenge former wrongs done them by the Turks. It was the Turks who drove the remnant of Slav nobility into the inaccessible Black Mountains when the hosts of Islam swarmed over the Danube lands, Servia, Bosnia, Herzegovina, murdering and plundering, destroying an ancient civilization.
Secure among their mountains the Montenegrins remained untouched by those influences which have kept their neighbours the Albanians under the dominion of the Sultan. They held firmly to their religion, the Greek Orthodoxy, this kept them united against their enemy the Turk, and they developed along their own lines. Their princely family the Balshas kept Turks and Venetians at bay, and when that dynasty died out their quite natural quarrels were kept down by a line of priestly princes, Vladikas; the Prince-Bishop being celibate was less likely to be dragged into family feuds. By degrees the sovereignty became hereditary, passing from uncle to nephew, until Danilo II relinquished the ecclesiastical side of his dignity. He was assassinated in 1860 and succeeded by Prince Nicholas, now King of Montenegro.
Montenegro soon found sufficient pretext for declaringwar, and did so in all solemnity on October 8th. Immediately after this act the sons of the mountains were pouring down from the heights over the Turkish border. By a series of sharp, well-contrived attacks they gained numerous advantages over their enemies, had joined hands with the Servian Army by October 25th in the Sandjak of Novi Bazar, had captured S. Giovanni di Medua by November 18th, then assisting General Yankovitch’s Servian division in an attack on the fortress of Alessio, which was captured after fierce fighting.
In the meantime Montenegro’s southern army was investing Scutari, assisted by the northern force moving down from Tuzi. Since the Young Turks came into power in 1908 the natural advantages for defence proper to Scutari have been greatly enhanced, for Hilmi Pasha made this the head-quarters of his action against the Albanians. The garrison of Scutari, computed at some ten thousand men, was well armed and well provided for, and has held out against superior odds. It proposes to hold out till the end, whenever that may be, in spite of all the desperate attacks by night and day to which Montenegrin impetuosity subjects it. Scutari is still holding out, and so far the Montenegrins have poured out their blood before its strong defences in vain. The commander of the fortress absolutely declined to recognize the armistice.
On October 17th the Porte issued a formal notification to the Powers that “a state of war exists to-day between the Turkish Empire and the Kingdoms of Bulgaria and Servia.” A revolt of Serbs in the districts of Üsküb, Kumanovo, and others had already broken out during the first days of October, and fighting on the frontier was reported some days before the declaration of war at Vranja and near Ristovaç on the Morava. Servia declared waron Turkey on the same day as the Turkish notification was issued, Bulgaria and Greece did likewise; so four kings at the head of their armies crossed the borders of their realms to concentrate in an attack on their old enemy.
King Peter of Servia made Vranja his first head-quarters, and from here followed the progress of his armies. They marched down from the mountains in three columns, beating down fierce resistance, gaining victory on victory at enormous cost. By October 21st the Serbs had won a victory at Podujevo, and captured Nova Varosh in the Sandjak. At the same time the Second Army Corps, under General Stephanovich, was forcing its way to Egri Palanka, capturing the important position of Carsko Selo and Sultan Tepe, marching towards Üsküb, where the three armies were to meet eventually.
Servian arms were victorious elsewhere. Led by the Crown Prince in person, the Serbs attacked Kumanovo; the fighting lasted with varying fortunes for two days, the Turks offering desperate resistance and making furious counter-attacks. After hard fighting in the Teresh Pass, Prishtina fell to the Serbs, and shortly after the western column captured Mitrovitza, Vuchitra, and Gilan. The Serbs then marched on Üsküb and took it, King Peter entered the town, once a royal residence of the Kraljs of Greater Servia, in solemn triumph, amidst the rejoicings of the populace. There was desperate fighting near Kossovo, on the Amselfeld, where Amurath broke the chivalry of ancient Servia in the fourteenth century, and with his dying eyes watched the death agonies of Knjes Lazar, King of the Serbs. Here on the Amselfeld, the scene of Milosh Kabilovitch’s daring deed, Young Servia vindicated its honour, and proved the metal of a nation united in arms to some great purpose, inspired by a high ideal.
Then the Servian armies marched on towards Monastir, but were able at the same time to detach troops to reinforce their allies the Greeks, and the Bulgarians before Adrianople. Monastir was closely invested, and fell on November 19th. The Crown Prince held his solemn entry into the town, captured in face of many great obstacles. Besides Turkish regulars, the inhabitants of the town offered desperate resistance, the latter attacking with great ferocity. It was largely bayonet fighting, the Servian infantry carrying one position after another atpas de charge, sometimes wading through water breast-high. Finally the Turks attempted a desperate sortie, which ended in a complete rout, during which many who escaped from the sabres of the pursuing Servian cavalry managed to make for Ochrida. This latter city, formerly a royal residence of the Serbo-Bulgarian Tsars, was captured by the Serbs on November 24th.
Tenedos An island close to the Asiatic side of the entrance to the Dardanelles. It served as a base for Greek torpedo-boat destroyers. Here one of these held up the ship I was sailing in.TenedosAn island close to the Asiatic side of the entrance to the Dardanelles. It served as a base for Greek torpedo-boat destroyers. Here one of these held up the ship I was sailing in.
Then the Serbs set out on yet another desperate venture, in pursuit of an ideal, a window on the Adriatic. Let us hope that a full account of this march of a Servian column over the mountains, from the Lake of Ochrida to Alessio, may be recorded in detail by some of those who took part in it, for the venture is reminiscent of Pizarro’s march across the Andes. Communications with head-quarters could only be maintained by means of couriers, and naturally became less frequent as the gallant column disappeared among the mountain passes. The way led along the edge of yawning chasms, the track so narrow that pack animals, hardy mountain ponies, could be loaded on one side only; then again, down some winding ravine, toiling ten miles to advance one; again, amid rocks and boulders, over a pass swept by an icy wind, or through a valley two or three feet deep in snow. Guns and ammunition had to be dragged along, for though the heights weregenerally deserted, yet now and again hostile Albanians would have to be dispersed before an advance was possible. Rations were very short, yet in spite of hunger, fatigue, and the enemy’s attention, the force won through with trifling losses until the waters of the Adriatic gleamed at their feet. And so the Serbs arrived on the sea-coast at Alessio, where they were met by their allies, the Montenegrins, who had taken S. Giovanni di Medua. At yet another point on the Adriatic, at Durazzo, the Serbs emerged from the mountains, to emphasize their claims to an outlet on the sea, while Austrian cruisers looked on jealously.
Thus by the end of November all Macedonia had been lost to the Ottoman Empire. Yet the people of Constantinople seemed, for the most part at least, indifferent to outside matters, and continued the even tenor of their way. Only in cafés, and places where men of leisure congregate, would you hear the war discussed, or chiefly the rumours afloat about it, and from these many pot-valiant Turks deduced that, far from all being lost, the Osmanli armies were about to begin the war in earnest. The beaten remnant of Ottoman power in Europe, huddling behind the lines of Chatalja, was to emerge from hiding, march over the Bulgarians up the Valley of the Maritza, relieve famine-stricken Adrianople, and enter Sofia in triumph. Yet another Ottoman army was to march south through Thessaly, retake Saloniki, cross into Epirus, and dictate the Sultan’s terms to Greece in Athens. This has been told me seriously by several Turks, those who are interested in the war. What is more, they are firmly persuaded that this can and will happen. With such a people, the majority completely apathetic, a minority wildly optimistic, it is difficult to see how anything like a common-sense view of matters is likely to obtain, andwithout such common sense Turkey’s place in the comity of European nations will probably be filled by people with a better-adjusted sense of proportion.
Of course, reports of Servian excesses, atrocities, are spread about, chiefly disseminated by Continental papers. That soldiers flushed by victory are liable to break away from strict discipline is a lamentable fact. I know of few armies of which the same cannot be said with more or less justice. The Continental Press spread reports of this kind about the British army in South Africa, and lowered the status of journalism by these vicious falsehoods. It must also be borne in mind that many Continental papers are to a certain extent used by the Governments of their respective countries for the purpose of creating a tendency. This was distinctly the case during the South African war, when a strong organization poisoned the minds of European nations against Great Britain by means of the Press, in order to justify interference with our affairs. They were ably seconded by a section of the Press in this country. The movement failed of its result owing to the strength of Great Britain and the solidarity of the nation. It seems to be probable that much the same tendency inspired the recent recitals of Servian atrocities. On the whole the Press has not distinguished itself particularly during the Balkan war, and certainly the restrictions placed on war correspondents added to the difficulties of news-getting. Yet this is no reason for substituting fiction for facts, for there are many who still believe what they see in the papers, and among them were a number who suffered considerable anxiety when reading of the state of Constantinople during the last stage of the war. Some accounts were not even remotely connected with the truth.
Whatever the truth about Servian atrocities may be it is certain that the Servian Army did its work uncommonlywell. Thorough preparedness and good leadership enabled it not only to sweep the Turks out of Macedonia, but also to assist the other Allies, for instance, in detaching eighty thousand men to help the Bulgarians in the siege of Adrianople.
How many of those who read their daily paper realize the work done by the Servian Army? In a country where roads are few, and in wet weather only serve to indicate the general direction and not to carry heavy traffic, the Servian troops, especially the infantry, daily covered a surprising amount of ground; what is more, the transport managed to keep up with the marching columns. And it was not all simple marching; there was severe fighting to be done, and heavy ammunition trains had to keep up with the operations in progress.
Great credit is due to those who reorganized the Servian Army and fitted it for the task it took in hand. Their names have not been lauded by the Press, their portraits do not constantly figure in the illustrated papers, but they have served their country well, and helped to bring about lasting changes in the state of Europe, changes which will yet cause great anxiety to the people of those very superior Great Powers who sit in judgment on matters which many of them cannot understand.
Bulgarian origin and history—Defeat of Nicephorus I—Luitprand, the historian—Revolt of Peter and Asan—Sisvan and Amurath—My friend “Dedo ’Mitri”—The road to Radoïl—Vasil and his horse—Bulgarian war preparations—His Beatitude Joseph—Advance of Bulgarian armies—The victories of the Allies—Mr. Asquith’s assurance.
Bulgarian origin and history—Defeat of Nicephorus I—Luitprand, the historian—Revolt of Peter and Asan—Sisvan and Amurath—My friend “Dedo ’Mitri”—The road to Radoïl—Vasil and his horse—Bulgarian war preparations—His Beatitude Joseph—Advance of Bulgarian armies—The victories of the Allies—Mr. Asquith’s assurance.
THE leading spirit of the Balkan Alliance is Bulgaria, its policy directed by an able ruler, Tsar Ferdinand, its strategy devised by a capable Staff, at whose head, as the sovereign’s right hand, stands General Sava Savof. To the Western nations who were indulging in autumn holidays while the Balkan cauldron was seething to overflowing the war came as a surprise, was inaugurated with astounding efficiency, and went its victorious course with bewildering rapidity. That was the impression made by recent events in the Balkans upon the lethargic Western mind. To those who happened to have looked behind the scenes there was no suddenness in the outbreak of hostilities, no surprise at the efficient organization which led to well-deserved successes in the field.
It has been my privilege to visit Bulgaria several times, and on each occasion I have returned with a yet higher opinion of the Bulgarian people, their Tsar, and his advisers.
The first to mention this people was the Armenian historian Moses, of Koren, towards the end of the fifth century. In his time the Bulgars occupied the lower reaches of the Volga, and called their capital Bulâr, Bulghâr; here was the mart where they transacted business with their neighbours. From the banks of the Volga the Bulgars, a Finno-Ugric race, and akin to the Turks, moved along the northern shore of the Black Sea towards the Danube, and had reached Macedonia by the beginning of the seventh century.
When the country which is now Bulgaria formed part of Dacia Trajana, in the days of Emperor Aurelian, Goths swarmed in and drove the Dacians into Moesia, now Servia. They wandered south, much to the discomfiture of ancient Byzantium. On their westward way the Goths, under Theodoric, had trampled down the Finno-Ugric people, the Bulgarians, which had come to the plains of the Lower Danube from the north-east. For a century and a half all traces of this people disappeared from the historian’s ken, and they were not heard of again until the ninth century. Debarred by a stronger race from returning northward to rejoin their kinsmen who had migrated to Finland, their progress westward checked by more powerful nations, they turned towards the south, and thus began a conflict which has never ceased, though it may have lain dormant, for over ten centuries, a conflict which has since broken out afresh and led the Bulgars to the gates of Constantinople. These people, the Bulgars, found vent for their military ardour in opposing the inroads of the Eastern Emperors, and may lay claim to an honour till then appropriated only by the Goths—that of having slain a Roman Emperor in battle.
It came about in this fashion. Nicephorus I, Emperor of the East (802-811) had advanced with boldness andsuccess into the west of Bulgaria and destroyed the Royal Court by fire. But while he lingered on in search of spoil, refusing all offers of a treaty, his enemies collected their forces and barred the lines of retreat. For two days the Emperor waited in despair and inactivity, on the third the Bulgarians surprised the camp and slew the Emperor and great officers of the Empire. Valens had escaped insults from the Goths when defeated and slain at Adrianople, but the skull of Nicephorus, encased with gold, was made to serve as drinking-vessel.
Towards the end of the ninth century King Boris of Bulgaria brought two holy men, Cyril and Methodius, originators of the Cyrillic alphabet adopted by all Slav nations, and Christianity, then introduced, aroused a desire for learning among the Bulgarians.
The power of Bulgaria increased, and under Tsar Simeon, son of Boris, extended over Bulgaria of to-day, Wallachia, part of Hungary and Transylvania, parts of Albania and Epirus, of Macedonia and Thessaly. Simeon assumed the title of Tsar and Autocrat of all Bulgarians. This title was retained by all Bulgarian sovereigns until the conquest of their country by the Turks.
Early in October an extraordinary session of the Sobranje celebrated the anniversary of Bulgaria’s independence and the assumption of the ancient title by Tsar Ferdinand.
Simeon, son of Boris, was intended for a religious life, but he abandoned it to take up arms; he inherited the crown of Bulgaria, and reigned from the end of the ninth to well into the tenth century. His education was completed at Constantinople, where many other youthful nobles of his country gathered for the same purpose, and to this day the custom prevails, for among the students at Robert College, which stands high on the banks of the Bosphorus,are many of Tsar Ferdinand’s young subjects. Among its former pupils was M. Gueshof, now Prime Minister of Bulgaria.
Despite his Byzantine education Simeon did not love the Greeks, and Luitprand, the historian, writes: “Simeon fortis bellator, Bulgariæ prœcrat; Christianus sed vicinis Græcis valde inimicus.” This hostility to the Greeks found frequent expression, and Simeon with his host appeared before the walls of Constantinople. On classic ground, at Achelous, the Greeks were vanquished by the Bulgarians, and Simeon hastened to besiege the Emperor in his own strong City.
Down by the Golden Horn on the plain outside the Gate of Edirné, Tsar Simeon met Romanus Lecapenus, the Emperor of the East, at the place where King Crum of Bulgaria had been asked to confer with Leo V, the Armenian (813-820), and had narrowly escaped the arrows of the archers treacherously concealed in ambush. Vying with the Greeks in the splendour of their display the Bulgars took jealous precautions against a similar surprise, and deep mistrust informed the spirit in which their sovereign dictated terms of peace. “Are you a Christian?” asked the humbled Emperor. “It is your duty to abstain from the blood of your fellow-Christians. Has the thirst for riches seduced you from the blessings of peace? Sheathe your sword, open your hand, and I will give you the utmost measure of your desire.”
But peace was not for long. Simeon’s successors by their jealousies undermined the strength of the kingdom, and when next the Bulgarians met the Greeks in battle they were easily defeated by Basil II, called Bulgaroktonos. A terrible home-coming theirs; through snow and ice the remnant of Bulgaria’s manhood struggled on in little bands of a hundred at a time, each company followingthe voice of a single leader, as they groped their way through darkness—they were blinded. They had escaped from the clemency of a Christian Emperor, by whose orders only one man in each hundred retained the sight of one eye.
Then for over a century Bulgaria remained subject to Byzantium, until two Bulgarian chiefs—Peter and Asan—rose in revolt against Isaac Angelus (1185-1195), and spread the fire of rebellion from the Danube to the hills of Macedonia and Thrace. So Isaac and his brother, Alexius III (1195-1203), were forced to recognize Bulgaria’s independence.
Such hopeless rulers as Alexius IV and V and Nicolas Canabas made easy the conquest of Byzant by the Latins in 1204. Calo John, King of Bulgaria, sent friendly greetings to Baldwin I, the new Emperor of the East, but these provoked an unexpected answer. Baldwin demanded that the rebel should deserve his pardon by touching with his forehead the footstool of the imperial throne. So trouble broke out again. Again war was waged, with all its attendant savagery, and Calo John reinforced his army by a body of fourteen thousand horsemen from the Scythian deserts. A fierce battle at Adrianople resulted in the total defeat of the Emperor, who was taken prisoner. His fate was for some years uncertain, and even the demands of the Pope for the restitution of the Emperor failed to elicit any other answer from King John save that Baldwin had died in prison. For years the conflict raged, till Henry, the second Latin Emperor of the East, routed the Bulgarians. Calo John was slain in his tent by night, and the deed was piously ascribed to the lance of St. Demetrius.
Golubaç The stronghold of Old Servia guarding the Pass of Kasan.GolubaçThe stronghold of Old Servia guarding the Pass of Kasan.
In the fourteenth century another foe threatened Bulgaria and all Eastern Europe. Amurath with hisJanissaries was closing in upon Constantinople. He beat the Greek Emperor at Adrianople in 1361, and made this town his base of operations against Bulgaria, which country he harried until Sisvan, the Tsar, obtained peace at the price of offering his daughter in marriage to Amurath. But peace did not ensue, and Sisvan had to flee before Ali, and surrendered at Nicopolis.
Nicopolis, where King Sigismund of Hungary was vanquished by Sultan Bajazet, by whose victory the Balkan States became subject to the Porte. Here there was fierce fighting in 1810, and again in 1877, for the road to the Pass of Plevna starts from here. Here at Nicopolis are the ruins, underground, of one of the earliest Christian churches, but its history is quite unknown.
Recent times have witnessed the rise of Bulgaria from the status of an Ottoman province to that of an independent kingdom, strong, prosperous, and determined. And on its southern frontier, and from the banks of the Struma to the Black Sea shore, the armed forces of Bulgaria strained at the leash, their eager gaze towards Constantinople, Tsarigrad, the Castle of Cæsar.
Among those whose eager eyes turned ever towards the south is one (I hope he still lives) for whom I have the friendliest feelings. His name is Dedo ’Mitri, and I venture to describe a visit I paid to that worthy.
Like Bill Sloggins of song, Dedo ’Mitri is “a party as you don’t meet every day.” The continuation of the verse applies equally:
“He’s always hale and hearty,And he’s cheerful in his way.”
“He’s always hale and hearty,And he’s cheerful in his way.”
“He’s always hale and hearty,And he’s cheerful in his way.”
In itself this condition is a matter for no great wonderment, but you must know that Dedo ’Mitri has reached the age at which it cannot be said of many that they are always hale and hearty. Many do not travel as far along life’s journey as Dedo ’Mitri has done; he was well on in the eighties when I met him a year or two ago. This, of course, accounts for his being called “Dedo ’Mitri,” which, being interpreted, meaneth “Grandfather Dimitri.” The fact of Dimitri being abbreviated to ’Mitri speaks of his popularity. Several circumstances go towards the making of Dedo ’Mitri’s popularity. His age, of course, has something to do with it, his cheerfulness still more, and his position adds to his popularity—he keeps the largest of the two inns in the village, keeps the only inn that really counts for anything. Probably the most important ingredient of the recipe for Dedo ’Mitri’s popularity is his past—he is an ex-comitadji.
To have been a comitadji is indeed a matter of great distinction in those countries south of the Balkans. There it is that Dedo ’Mitri lives and has his being, there, among the Rhodope Mountains, along which runs the frontier between Bulgaria and Turkey. Dedo ’Mitri is a Bulgarian, a splendid specimen of a fine race.
For his country’s sake Dedo ’Mitri endured untold hardships, and committed deeds desperate and daring, deeds that perhaps send their phantoms crowding round his couch o’ nights. Perhaps! though to all appearances Dedo ’Mitri’s looks do not suggest nights spent with the spectre Remorse. He, like other fighters for a country’s liberties, may rather glory in what he has done, though of this again no word escapes him. There are others in the village ready to tell you of his exploits.
Dedo ’MitriDedo ’Mitri
Songs and legends of the great, of King Crum, Tsar Simeon, and the Asens, kept alive the intense feeling of Bulgarian nationality during centuries of Turkish domination. Under the heavy oppression of Ottoman rule the Church founded by Cyril and Methodius lived on, deeply rooted in the hearts of the people. So, when Bulgariaawoke in the beginning of the nineteenth century there were found men like Dedo ’Mitri to take up arms, to sacrifice all for their country’s liberty. He was a baby when Russia declared war against Turkey in 1827, but still remembers the depth of feeling that stirred his folk and urged him to take his share in the work as soon as his arm was strong enough for it. He was in the full vigour of manhood when his own efforts, and those of other patriots, had brought about the establishment of a Bulgarian Exarchate at Constantinople. He rejoiced when the Congress of Berlin ratified the treaty of San Stefano, making Bulgaria autonomous, and his militant activity came to an end when Eastern Roumelia was united to his country.
Now Dedo ’Mitri lives at peace with all the world in his quiet little village among the Rhodope Mountains.
To get to Radoïl, where Dedo ’Mitri lives, two roads are open to you. You may train from Sofia to Bellova, then drive along the high road towards Tshamkuria in the mountains. The road is good, because the King has a shooting-box at Tshamkuria, and he is very particular about the roads he travels over. Radoïl is half-way to Tshamkuria, and every one who passes that way stops to bait at Dedo ’Mitri’s.
If you wish to see more of people and country than is possible from the train, another way to Radoïl is preferable. Take a seat in the motor which goes to Tshamkuria every other day. The chauffeur is a young Englishman, who has a good deal to say if you ask him about the state of the road. It is in parts a very bad road indeed. In fact, but for the trees that line it with more or less regularity on either hand, you might mistake the road for a dried-up watercourse. The first part of the road is not so bad, quite good, in fact, but it suddenly becomes incredibly bad, about eight or ten miles from the small town of Samakov,and the streets of that town are quite Oriental in their uselessness as such. You stop at Samakov to let the engine cool down a bit, and find it quite an Oriental town. Here and there an old mosque, a Turkish fountain, and mules, donkeys, heavy-going buffaloes drinking at it. The costumes of the people you meet are Oriental, though the women go unveiled. Samakov has a garrison; it is not far from the Turkish frontier, and the uniforms of the fine-looking Bulgarian soldiers strike a Western note. But on the whole the aspect of the town is Oriental, the smells intensely so.
The road improves as it leaves Samakov, it becomes really quite a good road, and carries you upwards into the mountains. There on a high plateau embowered in a forest of pines lies Tshamkuria. It is a hot-weather resort—everybody who is anybody in Sofia comes here for the summer. But we are not concerned with such fashionable matter, we have set out to visit Dedo ’Mitri at Radoïl, so start at once.
We have arranged for the hire of a conveyance the evening before with a Jew. If the weather be fine we will drive away at seven in the morning, keep the conveyance for the day, and pay the son of Israel seven francs. The morning mist among the mountains made one or two unsuccessful attempts to turn into rain; we thought the weather fine enough, the Jew did not think so, and therefore thought fit to demand double the amount arranged for. This was not to be borne, so we looked about for some other means of conveyance, and in our search met one Vasil. Vasil, a stout Bulgarian peasant wearing a dubious cotton shirt, his thick cloth baggy breeches upheld by a cummerbund of faded crimson, his coat of the same brown cloth, black braided, slung over his shoulders, promised to convey us to Radoïl in great comfort as soonas he should have caught a horse. It appeared there were several horses over which Vasil disposed, but they happened to be out in the forest in search of breakfast. After a delay of an hour or so Vasil returned with what he described as a horse. The likeness was there, though very remote, and the unhappy-looking scraggy pony was tied by assorted strings to a two-wheeled trap—once upon a time something like a dogcart; a head-stall and odd bits of harness were then artistically arranged about this anatomical study, Vasil wiped the damp seat with a wet cloth, handed me his whip, and intimated that all was ready for a start. All was not ready, however, for the horse had gone to sleep, and my attempt to crack the whip flung the lash into the bushes, whence it had to be retrieved, then refastened. In the meantime the horse realized that something unusual was toward; he woke up, shook off some bits of harness, and went to sleep again while they were being readjusted. Then Vasil woke him up again, gave him a gentle lead, and so we really started. There was no difficulty about finding the road, or chance of losing your way. The road leads broad and smooth in zigzags down into the valley where Radoïl lies. On either hand dense forest, where wolves prowl during the winter months and bears are no infrequent visitors. Huge pines send straight shafts up into the morning sky, their dark green striking a sombre note among the rich green of birch and oak. Here and there honeysuckle trails over masses of rock in sweet profusion, and the voice of a tinkling stream lightens our way with music. Now and again at an angle of the road we were granted a glimpse of the distant country below, wide expanses of fertile plains, and beyond them again the purple lines of mountains far away. The sun had broken through the mountain mist and called forth the songs of birds.
Those angles of the road were rather too much for the horse. The trap boasted of no brake, the wheels revolved in a manner suggesting the infirmity of extreme old age, yet they took charge and guided our course, and with senile spite attempted to hurl us into the depths below. But we were saved by the fact that our speed was not excessive. Any attempt at steering the horse by the usual method led to a dead stop, on which occasion the head-gear would fall off. All these matters put much incident into our journey. After a couple of hours the “passage perilous” down the mountain was behind us and we were on a fairly straight and level road. An occasional gentle rise met us; this caused the horse to stop for contemplation of the awful task before him; he would shake his head at our wild proceedings and patiently wait until the whip-lash had been recovered. Our progress, though not marked by any undue haste, roused interest where we passed. Slow-stepping oxen dragging a plough, a primitive implement, little more than an iron-shod staff, would stop to watch us with big wondering eyes. At last—a turn of the road brought us in full view of the village and we rattled down the stone-paved street. Stone-paved—that is, large stones were placed about at irregular intervals, the interstices being pools of muddy water. Across a bridge, over a turbulent mountain stream, and we pulled up in front of Dedo ’Mitri’s hostelry.
Radoïl Dedo ’Mitri’s Hostelry.RadoïlDedo ’Mitri’s Hostelry.
Dedo ’Mitri himself stands outside his front door. The house projects above it, thus forming what might be a verandah were it not on a level with the road. Dedo ’Mitri was in shirt-sleeves, as becomes a busy man. The twinkle in his eyes might be that of a hospitable welcome, though having heard of his antecedents it may be suspected of suggesting old predatory instincts slow to die. We advised our host that we meant to take the middaymeal with him, and while he prepared it we had a look at the village, took a sketch or two which meant to give a better idea of the place than word-painting can do.
The accessories to the repast prepared by Dedo ’Mitri were simple in the extreme, it was also necessary to wipe your fork carefully before using it. However, the food was good, wholesome grey bread and a quaint mess of eggs and cream-cheese. Then Dedo ’Mitri was called upon to supply cheese by itself; this he did without demur, but a demand for clean plates puzzled him, though he complied. On being asked for a clean knife he had no cause to vanish again into his dark kitchen, but produced a murderous-looking clasp-knife from out the pocket of his voluminous breeches; we preferred our own knives. An excellent if somewhat rough red wine accompanied the repast.
In the meantime the village had assembled. Stalwart men stood round us watching intently, others sat drinking wine a little way off. The village priest in passing, seeing something unusual in progress, stepped in and found the time suitable for refreshment. A background of children completed the circle. When it became evident that sketching was the next event Dedo ’Mitri’s authority was evidenced. I pointed out a small fair child with dark-lashed eyes—Dimitra—she was called up to stand perfectly still. This she did in solemn wonder. A well-built maiden moved with graceful steps to the village fountain opposite the house. On my noticing her Dedo ’Mitri’s powerful voice rang out, “Helenka,” and she too remained motionless until released. There were urgent demands from the spectators to be taken one after another, but time was short, so only one smart buck, his short jacket slung jauntily across his shoulders, figures in my sketch-book.
Then Vasil was called for. He appeared leading the horse, both stumbling—the horse from the infirmity of old age, Vasil from an undue indulgence in the red wine. He had also regaled himself freely on garlic; the afternoon sun drew an indescribable aroma from him.
Farewell to Dedo ’Mitri and promises to return, farewells and much handshaking to all the assembled village, a discriminate distribution of small copper coins, a courtly salute from the priest, and we turned our horse’s head towards the mountains whence we came.
Slower than ever was our progress, as Vasil in his sleep was constantly falling off the back seat, and the horse, once stopped, was loath to move on again. The whip-lash was lost for ever, yet there was the broad road up into the mountains all before us.
We left Vasil and his conveyance in the road and turned afoot into a track which used to be the only means of communication in earlier days. A very unsafe one too, for it offered splendid opportunities to those who pursue guerilla warfare. Here and there were masses of boulders whence marksmen could command the track and then vanish in the impenetrable forests.
Dedo ’Mitri knows them well, that track, those piles of rock that offer cover to the sniper, those giants of the forest, and the thick undergrowth that covered his retreat. But Dedo ’Mitri no longer goes to see his old acquaintances the rocks and forest trees. His country is free, free as the wind that howls on wintry nights up the valley to join chorus with the wolves. From mountain and valley, from town and village, the Crescent had faded away to the south, and Bulgaria, a strong young kingdom, forced its way out of Turkish oppression. They are old men now, those who are left, who like Dedo ’Mitri spent the best years of their life in the cause of freedom. But the storyhas never been forgotten, the traditions of Bulgaria’s former greatness live strong in a regenerate Bulgaria. The sons of Bulgaria looked down from the Rhodope Mountains, over the rolling plains, their gaze bent on Constantinople, Tsarigrad, the Castle of Cæsar. They have knocked at the gates of that City before.
With consummate skill Tsar Ferdinand kept his plans secret while the Balkan League was forming to overthrow the last of Ottoman power in Europe. For many years all Bulgaria had been preparing for this great stroke, arming, organizing, making sacrifices as a nation must do when in pursuit of a high ideal, so when the moment came it found a strong people, trained to arms, determined to snatch success from before the cannon’s mouth and crown its standards with laurel victory. With a possible war strength of over three hundred thousand men and four hundred and fifty guns Bulgaria stood ready to take the field.
The massacres of Kochana gave impetus to the avalanche which was ready to descend over the hills and vales of Thrace. Bulgaria had been making steady propaganda in Macedonia and had drawn within the folds of its nationality a great number of those nondescripts, Slavs, who form the major portion of the inhabitants of that quondam Turkish province. This propaganda was actively supported by the Bulgarian Church under its enlightened high-priest, His Beatitude Joseph, Exarch of Bulgaria.
I first met the Exarch some years ago while on a visit to Bulgaria. His Beatitude had left Constantinople, where the interests of his flock in Macedonia require that he should reside, and was taking a holiday in a remote village near Sofia, a village nestling among the mountain range of Vitosa, by the banks of a mountain torrent along which a broad military road leads to the Turkish frontier.We discussed the state of Macedonia, and though I may not divulge all that was said to me, I gained an even higher opinion of Bulgarian thoroughness and efficiency. We also discussed the schism between the Greek and Bulgarian sections of the Orthodox Church; this is a purely political matter, and was freely used by the Porte to foster racial animosity in Macedonia. When the Greeks gained their independence the Bulgarians of Macedonia were encouraged to build schools and were allowed to endow several new bishoprics; when the Greeks were temporarily disabled by the war of 1898 the Porte thought fit to persecute the Bulgarians of Macedonia, assisted in this by Pomaks, Bulgarians converted to Islam some centuries ago. The Turks overdid this policy, and their measures only served to crystalize the different non-Turk racial and religious elements of Macedonia. Bands of comitadjis were formed, they assisted nationalist propaganda by primitive methods, and finally, the Porte being weakened by revolution and the vacillations of a farcical Parliament terrorized by esoteric militarism, strengthened the arms of those who sought freedom from Turkish rule.
The occasion arose over the massacres of Kotchana, which sent a wave of fierce indignation over Bulgaria. Reforms in Macedonia and the punishment of those concerned in the outrages were demanded by Tsar Ferdinand and refused by the Porte, which, feeling itself strong enough and ignoring the strength and stability of the Balkan Alliance, declared war on Bulgaria. Forthwith the armies of Bulgaria, already assembled in battle array on the frontier, poured into Thrace and overran that province, driving the Ottoman forces before it.
War was declared by Turkey against Bulgaria and Servia on October 17th, on the same day Greece sent a similar declaration to the Porte. Then the highly organized forcesof the Allies marched. While the Greek navy put to sea to capture islands in the Ægean and invaded Turkey from the south, the Bulgarians entered Thrace in three columns under the Tsar and General Savof, General Hanof capturing Kurt Kalé and Mustapha Pasha on October 18th. On the following day Turkish cruisers made a futile attempt on the Bulgarian coast, bombarding Varna and destroying an inoffensive monastery. By this day all the four Allies had invaded Turkish territory. The mountain passes were in the hands of the Bulgarians by October 20th, and the army marching on Adrianople; Adrianople, where the Bulgars had vanquished Emperor Nicephorus and his troops by the banks of the Maritza in 811.
While in the west the Servian army was continuing its victorious march on Üsküb, while the Montenegrin northern army under Prince Danilo moved from Berane to the capture of Plava and Gusinje, and their southern army commenced the siege of Scutari by attacking Tarabosh, the Bulgarian armies drove the Turks from the Arda River west of Adrianople, and General Dimitrief completed the easterly turning movement by attacking the Ottoman forces at Kirk Kilisse. Here the battle raged to and fro with varying success until the Turks, under Abdullah Pasha, were finally routed on October 24th. At the same time Bulgarian troops occupied Vasiliko on the Black Sea; the Servians, under General Yankovitch, had already captured Prishtina on the 20th, and others commanded by General Ziskovitch had entered Kralovo and Novi Bazar. On the day which witnessed the defeat of Abdullah Pasha at the hands of General Dimitrief at Kirk Kilisse, the Servians, led by their Crown Prince in person, won the decisive battle of Kumanovo.
The tale of disaster continued; on October 25th the Turks evacuated Küprölü in the west; in the easterntheatre of war the Bulgarians opened the bombardment of Adrianople. On the following day King Peter entered Üsküb, the former residence of Servian Kings, in solemn state, and Küprölü, Drama, and Koziani were captured by the forces of the Allies.
Further Ottoman losses occurred on October 27th, when Istip fell and the Bulgarians captured Baba Eski, occupied Bunar Hissar, and took the Kresna Pass in the Struma Valley. All this time the Greeks were gaining ground towards Janina, and by October 30th had captured Veria and Thasos, preparatory to marching on Saloniki. By October 31st fighting was general all along the line in Thrace, the Allies were marching on Saloniki, and the northern and southern armies of Montenegro had closed in upon Scutari.
By the beginning of November the Western Powers had awakened from the dreams of the soporificstatus quoand began to realize that that formula no longer applied to the Near East. On November 9th Mr. Asquith solemnly announced that the Allies must have secured to them the fruits of victory. I wonder what Power, or group of Powers, however prominent the capital P, would dare to rob these gallant young nations of what they have won by bravery and devotion such as no older nation has exhibited in recent history. The Allies had continued along the path of conquest; Serbs had occupied Prilep and begun their advance on the Albanian coast, and Saloniki had surrendered before Mr. Asquith’s sententious statement. Fighting continued, and step by step the Allies pressed their old enemy towards the sea, the Greeks occupying more islands in the Ægean, the Bulgars pressing on towards Chatalja, hammering insistently on those outer defences of Constantinople till the Porte saw no help for it but to arrange an armistice.
So while the great men of the Great Powers were beginning to realize what was happening next door, and were working the cumbrous machinery of diplomacy too late for any practical purpose, the Allies, four young nations, unspoilt by luxury and great possessions, inspired by a high ideal, crossed their borders, drove the Ottoman forces before them from many a sternly contested field, and forced them to offer terms within a day’s march of the Turkish capital.
There is great glory in this crusade of the Allies against the heavy obstacle to progress which centres in Constantinople. Great glory for Western civilization by which these young kingdoms were informed when they set their house in order and united their forces to bold endeavour. Great glory to the faith they profess, which makes union possible and thus leads to victory. Greater glory still to those of all the other European nations who, seeing the plight of Christianity’s old enemy, hastened to assist him. Here in Constantinople they are at work, these bearers of Western culture, under Red Cross or Red Crescent, helping where the Turkish authorities have proved helpless, saving thousands from death by wound or disease while their own stand by and let the mosques, built to commemorate the victories of Islam, overflow with untended sufferers.
Yes, it is a great and glorious victory this last crusade begun by the young kingdoms of the Balkans, informed with high purpose, trained by Western thought and action, completed by those soldiers of the Cross who risked their lives in fighting dread diseases, seeking no reward, moved by that mainspring of their faith, Charity.