distributed proofreaders europe at http://dp.rastko.net serbia in light and darkness by rev. father nicholai velimirovic with preface by the archbishop of canterbury _with illustrations_ longmans, green and co. paternoster row, london fourth avenue & th street, new york bombay, calcutta, and madras author's note. the aim of this volume is to give to the english-speaking people some glimpses into the past struggles, sufferings and hopes of the serbian nation. i have tried to describe the serbian life in _light_, in its peace, its peaceful work, its songs and prayers; in _darkness_, in its slavery, its sins, its resistance to evil and battle for freedom. it is only the peoples which suffer themselves that can understand and sympathise deeply with the serbian soul. i dedicate, therefore, the following pages to all those who suffer much in these times, and whose understandings are enlarged and human sympathies deepened by sufferings. i will take this opportunity of expressing my warm and respectful thanks to his grace the archbishop of canterbury for his kind assistance and generous commendation of my work in england. my gratitude is due to the rev. g.k.a. bell and dr. e. marion cox for their help in the revision of these pages. nicholai velimirovic. london, _april_, . contents. preface by the archbishop of canterbury _part i._ lectures on serbia england and serbia serbia for cross and freedom serbia at peace serbia in arms _part ii._ fragments of serbian national wisdom _part iii._ fragments of serbian popular poetry illustrations. h.m. king peter crown prince alexander premier n. pashitch king milutin soldier on guard the goat-herd during turkish rule in serbia the monastery of cetinje the second serbian revolution of the monastery of kalenic serbian soldiers with an english nurse serbian officers under adrianople in the cattle market a typical montenegrin lady--h.m. queen milena peasant types the superior of a monastery king peter and the turkish general women doing the work of men _from a photograph by underwood and underwood_ serbian women carrying wounded _from a photograph by kind permission of mr. crawford price_ waiting for a place in the hospital _from a photograph by topical press agency_ "my mother." spliet-spalato a serbian refugee spinning by moonlight dubrovnik-ragusa preface by the archbishop of canterbury. the presence of father nicholai velimirovic in england during the last few months has brought to the many circles with which he has been in touch a new message and appeal enforced by a personality evoking an appreciation which glows more warmly the better he is known. but this little book is more than the revelation of a personality. it will be to many people the introduction to a new range of interest and of thought. he would be a bold man who would endeavour at present to limit or even to define what may be the place which the serbia of coming years may hold in eastern europe as a link between peoples who have been widely sundered and between forces both religious and secular which for their right understanding have needed an interpreter. of recent days the sculpture and the literature of serbia have been brought to our doors, and england's admiration for both has drawn the two countries more closely together in a common struggle for the ideals to which that art and literature have sought to give expression. it is not, i think, untrue to say that to the average english home this unveiling of serbia has been an altogether new experience. father nicholai's book will help to give to the revelation a lasting place in their minds, their hopes and their prayers. randall cantuar. lambeth, _easter_, . _part i_ lectures on serbia england and serbia. _delivered for the first time in the chapter house of canterbury cathedral. chairman: the lord archbishop of canterbury._ the sign of the church of england. your grace, ladies and gentlemen, to come to canterbury, to visit this sion of the church of england, that has been my dream since my fourteenth year, when i for the first time was told of what a spiritual work and of what an immortal glory this place has been the home. i dreamed a beautiful dream of hope to come here silently, to let every man, every house and every brick of the houses silently teach me, and, after having learned many fair and useful things, to return silently and thankfully home. unfortunately i cannot now be a silent and contemplative pupil in this place, as i desired to be, but i must speak, forced by the time in which we are living and suffering. i will speak in order not to teach you, but to thank you. and i have to thank you much in the name of the serbian nation and in my own name. i thank you that you are so mindful of serbia, of a poor and suffering country that failed so much in many respects, but never failed in admiration of the english character and civilisation. from central european civilisation we received a small light and a great shadow. from english civilisation we got--i dare say it--the light only. there is no doubt that english civilisation, being a great light, must have its shadow also, but our eyes, blinded by the great light, did not see the dark side of this light. i thank you that you gave us shakespeare, who is the second bible for the world; and milton the divine, and newton and herschel, the friends of the stars; and wellington and nelson, the fearless conquerors of the ambitious tyrant of the world; and stephenson, the great inventor of the railway and the great annihilator of distance between man and man; and carlyle, the enthusiastic apostle of work and hope; and dickens, the advocate of the humble and poor; and darwin, the ingenious revealer of brotherly unity of man and nature; and ruskin, the splendid interpreter of beauty and truth; and gladstone, the most accomplished type of a humane statesman; and bishop westcott and cardinal newman, the illuminated brains and warm hearts. no, i never will finish if i undertake to enumerate all the illustrious names which are known in serbia as well as in england, and which would be preserved in their integrity in serbia even if this island should sink under the waters. i have to thank you for many sacrifices that the people of this country have made for serbia during the present world-struggle. many of the english nurses and doctors died in serbia in trying courageously to save serbian lives in the time of typhus-devastation. they lost their own lives saving ours, and i hope in losing their lives for their suffering neighbours they have found better ones. their work will never be forgotten and their tombs will be respected as relics among us serbs. besides, great britain also sent military help for serbia. it was dictated to great britain by the highest strategic reasons to send troops to serbia, to the danube, in order to stop the germans there, to hinder their junction with the bulgars, to annihilate all their plans and dreams regarding the east, to defend serbia not only as serbia, but as the gate of egypt and india, and so to protect in the proper place and in the most efficacious manner her oriental dominions. but seemingly england sent her troops to serbia more to protect her honour than her dominions, more to help serbia than to defend egypt and india. the number of these troops and the time when they arrived in serbia indicate that. hundreds of miles the serbs had been driven back by the enemy before the british forces reached the serbo-greek frontier. but still they reached the serbian land, they fought on serbian soil and shed their noble blood defending that soil. serbia will rather forget herself than the english lives sacrificed for her in such a catastrophic moment of her history. england is the greatest empire of the world, not only at the present time, but since the beginning of human history. neither the artificial combination of alexander of macedonia nor the ancient roman empire, neither spain of charles v. nor napoleon's ephemeral dominion were nearly so great as the british empire of to-day. never has a nation possessed so much sea and so much land as the british. this wonderful empire includes people of every race, countries of every climate, human societies of every degree of civilisation, almost all kinds of minerals, plants and animals, lakes and rivers, mountains and forests. the most ancient civilisations of egypt, india and the mediterranean islands are brought together in conjunction under the same rule as the new worlds, like south africa, canada and australasia. the communication between the zones of the everlasting snow and those of the everlasting hot sun is established in perfection. the countries and peoples which were for thousands of years in contact with each other only through dreams are now in real contact through business, trade, science, art, and through common sufferings and hopes. still it might be asked: has such a great body indeed an aim? short-sighted people, who are ready at once with a reply on any question, will say: the only aim of this great empire is the exploitation of every country and every body by the english with the pretext of civilisation. so may think some english too. what can we say about the aim of the greatest empire? the truth is that the real aim of this empire is larger than the selfishness of any person or of any nation. the real aim is: _first_, to exchange the material products of the countries, and so to create a greater comfort for the people that live in them. in the wildest islands in the pacific you can find--i will mention only little things--the same fine sofas, fireplaces, draperies, modern kitchens, piano and library, electric light and cablegrams, as in london. and in foggy and smoky london you can have all the african fruits, australian wine and wool, canadian metals and wood, indian beasts and african ivory. _second_, to exchange the spiritual good of races and nations. the wisdom of the world is not concentrated in the brains of any single nation. every nation has some original experiences of its own about this life. the eskimos have certainly something new to say to the people from the plains of the ganges and the nile. and these people, these descendants, of buddha and rameses, as well as the descendants of moses and hamurrabai, have things to say that never were thought possible in the countries of perpetual snow and ice in northern canada. such is of the greatest profit for science, religion, ethics, sociology, art. darwin and spencer, with their immense scientific experiences, were possible only in such a world-empire as the english. the words of tagore, the indian thinker, can be heard to-day without great delay on the atlantic and pacific, as well as in india. when a genius is born in new zealand his message reaches the world, and his glory cannot be concealed in the southern hemisphere. _third_: this empire is an experiment in the realisation of human brotherhood. i repeat, through the medium of this empire man is brought near to man, and nation to nation, and race to race. it was very difficult in the ancient roman empire to become _civis romanus_, because this empire was founded upon the pagan philosophy of lords and servants. it is, on the contrary, very easy in the british empire of to-day to become a british citizen, because the british empire is founded upon the christian philosophy of democratic equality and brotherhood. all is not accomplished, but i say it is an experiment, and a good one; a prophecy, and a hopeful one. _fourth_: great britain is destined by providence to be a great educator of nations. that is her part in history. she has democracy and tradition--two things that are considered everywhere as incongruous--and therefore she is capable of understanding everybody and of teaching and leading everybody. she is the nurse for the sick people of the east; she is the schoolmaster for the rough people of the wild isolated islands; she is the tamer of the cannibals and the guide of the civilised; she inspires, vivifies, unites and guides; she equalises; she christianises. i read the other day a german menacing song: we are going, we are going to see who will henceforth govern the world-- england or god? i can say certainly--god. he will govern the world. but we can say to-day, though in due humility: _gesta dei per britannos_. would you know assuredly through which of the powerful nations god is working to-day? ask only which of these nations is most the champion of the rights of the small and poor nations, and you will find out the truth. for from the beginning of the world-history all the leading religions and philosophies called the great and powerful to protect the poor and powerless. the record of this recommendation belongs doubtless to the christian religion. the suggestion of all the religions was like this: it is impossible to be proud and selfish under the eyes of god. the suggestion of the christian religion is: under the eyes of god the more you have the more you must give, and the more you give the more you have; and if you even give your life for men, you will find a better life in god. what is serbia then? if we serbs look upon the english power on this planet, and then look and see our own less than modest place on the globe, we must unwillingly exclaim in the words of the psalmist: o lord, what is man, that thou art mindful of him?--or with a little change: o england, what is serbia, that thou art mindful of her? and the poor sons of serbia, that thou visitest them? a small strip of land with five million inhabitants and without seaboard. a peasant people devoted to agriculture and to nature, to the forest and cattle, to songs and tales. a past full of glory, of blood and sins. a present full of tears, pains and hopes. a king carried on a stretcher through the rocky desert of albania,--a loyal parliament which refused to make a separate peace with the enemy even in the darkest hour of national tragedy,--an honest government which did everything possible to save the country, and which, when the country was nearly conquered, exclaimed through its president: "it is better to die in beauty than to live in shame!"--a fearless army, which for three years only knew victory, now watching in snow on the mountains of montenegro and albania, and lodging in the dens of wolves and eagles.[ ] another army of old men, of women and children, fleeing away from death and rushing to death. shall i say that is serbia? no: that is only a part of serbia. you have heard talk of greater serbia. i personally think that serbia can never be greater than in this solemn hour of her supreme suffering, in which all the civilised world in both hemispheres trembles because of her catastrophe and sympathises with her. i personally love my little country just because it is so little; and just because its deeds are greater than its size. i am not sure that i should love it so much should it happen to become territorially so big as spain or italy. but i cannot help it; i must say that our irridentists in austro-hungary are more numerous than our population in serbia. eight millions of our serbo-croat and slovene brothers have been looking towards serbia as towards their piedmont, waiting their salvation from serbia, as alsace-lorraine is waiting its salvation from france, and being proud of serbia as all slaves are proud of their free kinsmen. all the slaves from isonzo to scutari are groaning under the yoke of an inhuman austro-magyar regime, and are singing of serbia as their redeemer from chains and shame. little serbia has been conscious of her great historic task, to liberate and unite all the southern-slavs in one independent being; therefore she, with supreme effort, collected all her forces to fulfil her task and her duty, and so to respond to the vital hopes of her brethren. shall i say that is serbia? no; that is only physical serbia. but there is a soul of serbia. for five hundred years the serbian soul suffered and believed. suffering sometimes breaks the belief. but the serbian suffering strengthened the belief of the serbian people. with belief came hope, with hope strength; and so the serbs endured the hardest and darkest slavery ever recorded in history, not so much by their physical strength as by the strength of their soul. besides, it was a great temptation for the serbs to abandon the christian faith and to accept the faith of the crescent. under this condition only, the turks promised freedom to the serbs and equal rights. several of the aristocratic families could not resist this temptation and became renegade to the faith of their ancestors in order to save their lives. but the mass of the people fearlessly continued to be faithful to the belief in the cross. allow me to give you only a few examples of the activity of the serbian soul in the time when the serbian body was in chains. although the serbian body was enslaved, the serbian soul was still free and active. here are some proverbs made during the time of slavery and abasement of the body: it is better not to be born than to misuse life. the sun sees everything and keeps silent; the foolish man knows nothing and still talks. why does god send suffering to the best of his children? because the weak cannot endure it. the tears of the weak are accusations of the strong; the tears of the poor are accusations of the rich; the tears of the righteous will be transformed into diamonds under the throne of god. a king asks another king: how many people do you govern? but if god speaks to a king, he asks: how many people are you helping? even the dry leaves cry out when trodden on; why should not the trodden man cry out? it is better to give life than to take life. if you give life, you do what god does; if you take life, you do what satan does. some men are better than others, but there is no man so good as god and no one so bad as the devil. some people are dressed in silk and satin, and others are dressed in rags. very often that is the only difference between man and man. there is a great difference between a learned man and a good man. the learned man can do good, but the good man will do good. the learned man can build the world up, but can destroy it too; the good man can only build it up. a man's judgment lasts as long as a man's life, but god's judgment lasts as long as god. it is better to dress the soul in silk and the body in rags than the reverse. if life does not mean work, then life is worth nothing. work and virtue are sisters, as well as idleness and vice. work and prayer are two eyes on the same face. the man who works only, without praying, has one eye only; and the man who prays without working only has one eye too. the man who neither works nor prays has no eyes, and walks in darkness. neither be boastful of life nor fearful of death. death is conditioned by life, and life by death. you can kill me, but my son will live; you can kill my son, but my soul will live. the kingdom of god is coming as quietly as the moonlight, and it will come fully when men learn not to live in convulsions and not to die in convulsions. there are only two nations upon the earth: that which weeps and that which laughs. now i would like to indicate slightly what the english political interests in serbia are. little as she may seem, democratic serbia is still the greatest moral factor in the big slav world. she is admired by other subjugated slavs because she succeeded without anybody's help in freeing herself. she is envied by all other slavs, from near and from far, as well as from other neighbouring nations, because of her nearly perfect democracy. serbia is the only democratic state among the four independent slav states (russia, montenegro, bulgaria). and just in this terrible war it became clear to all the world that serbia was the only democratic state in the near east. turkey is governed by an oligarchy, bulgaria by a german despot, greece by a wilful king whose patriotism is overshadowed by his nepotism, roumania is ruled more by the wish of the landlords (boyars) and court than by the wish of the people. i will say nothing about the very profanation of democracy in the dark realm of the hapsburgs. serbia not only means a democratic state, but a democratic nation; that is to say, that not only are the serbian institutions (including the church also) democratic, but the spirit of the whole of the nation is democratic. after all, this democratic spirit of serbia must be victorious in the balkans as well as in the slav world. you know that england's glory has always been to stand as the champion of democracy. england's best interests in the near east now more than ever imperatively require her to support democratic serbia against her anti-democratic enemies. how different serbia is from all her neighbours was clearly proved just by this war. she is alone in the near east fighting on the side of the democratic england and france against prussian militarism and autocracy. that does not happen accidentally, but because of the serbian democratic spirit. this spirit is very attractive for all the slavs who are under the austro-hungarian rule. many of them are looking towards powerful russia to liberate them (poles, bohemians, ruthenes, slovaks). yet they do not wish only freedom, but _freedom_ and _democracy_ together. therefore they are looking with one eye towards russian power and with another towards serbian democracy. it is clear that the english victory over the germans must have as the first consequence the liberation of all the slaves in europe. in this case all the southern slav people in austro-hungary--serbs, croats and slovenes--wish to be one unit with democratic serbia, as it was formulated lately by the southern-slav committee in london, and all the others--poles, bohemians, ruthenes and slovaks--wish to be _like_ democratic serbia. consequently serbia is a kernel, a nucleus of a greater southern-slav state, and at the same time the inspiring and revolutionising power for all the down-trodden slavs. this kernel for five hundred years was the little, but never subjugated, montenegro, but lately the piedmontal role has been transferred to serbia. the english political interest in the future greater serbia, or yougoslavija, is of the first importance. the southern-slav state will number about fourteen millions of inhabitants. this state will be the very gate of the east. yet serbia is not only the nucleus of the united southern slavdom, but the very nucleus of a balkan federation also, in which the greco-roumanian element should be a good balance to the slav element in it. i repeat i like my little country just because it is so comparatively little. but by necessity it is to become much larger. by necessity the whole of the serbian race is to be freed and united. by necessity the southern-slav state and the balkan federation are to be realised. some of our neighbours may be against that, but all their opposing effort will be in vain. every intrigue against the serbian ideals of freedom and unity cannot effect a suppression, but only a short prolongation of the period of its realisation. behold, the time has come, the fruit has grown ripe. all the serbian race has now been plunged into slavery. united to-day in slavery, they have now only one wish--to be united to-morrow in freedom. england is bound to russia more by a political or military treaty, but she is bound to serbia, and through serbia with all other democratic slav worlds more by spirit--just by this democratic spirit. this spirit which divides the slav world into two different camps, unites england with one of them,--with the democratic camp, the champion of which has been serbia. a very curious spirit dwells in the little serbian body, a very curious and great spirit, which will, i am sure, give form to the future balkans as well as to the future democratic slavdom. and be sure this spirit is rather panhumanistic than panslavistic. but after all, when i think of million inhabitants of the british empire and remember such a poor topic, as my country, about which i am just speaking, i must cry again: england, what is serbia, that thou art mindful of her? and the poor sons of serbia, that thou visitest them? still, serbia is an admirer and friend of england, and that is a good reason why england should look sympathetically towards little serbia. there is a serbian proverb: "a wise lion seeks friends not only among the lions, but among the bees too." of course serbia needs england much more than england needs serbia. i will not now dwell upon serbia's material needs; i will tell you about what are serbia's spiritual needs. to begin with the children, the serbian children need good education. our schools give more knowledge than strength of character and a humane cultivated will. our national poetry and history have educated our people much better than modern science did. still we perceive that science is necessary for a good education in our times. therefore we very much need to consult england in this respect. we well know how english education is estimated all over the world. england can help us much to educate the new serbian generations in the best way, because such a country as serbia deserves indeed a noble and worthy future in which to live. don't you agree with me? only i am afraid that i am speaking of the best education of the serbian children just at this moment when it were perhaps more suitable to speak about the best way to save them from hunger, pain and death. the serbian women need to develop their capacities more for social work, so as to take a more important part in the organisation and cultivation of their lives. the past of our women consisted in singing, weaving and weeping. i am sure that the english women, whose sympathy for serbia in these tragic days will remain memorable for ever,--i am sure that after this war they will come to serbia and help their poor sisters over there, teaching them and enlightening them. yet i am again afraid to dwell longer upon the topic of the enlightenment of the serbian mothers at the very moment when those mothers with their sons and daughters, trodden down by the prussian boot, look towards heaven and silently confess their sins, preparing themselves for a cruel death. what do the serbian men need? they need civilisation, or in other words: the bible, science, art. but they do not need the bible of killing from germany, nor the science of killing and the art of killing from germany. they do not want the civilisation which means the large and skilful manufacture of instruments of killing. they want the bible which makes good, and science which makes bright, and art which makes godlike. therefore the men of serbia are now looking so eagerly towards england and her civilisation. more english civilisation in our country, more england in serbia--that is our great spiritual need! my illustrious chairman, the most reverend archbishop of canterbury, wrote recently in one of his books: "we are everywhere trying in these later years to understand and to alleviate human sorrow." [ ] yes, you are. we serbians feel your sorrows too. "to understand and to alleviate human sorrow." that is the divine purpose of a humane civilisation. that is the final aim of our terrestrial education--to understand each other, and to support each other. do you think that it is difficult for a rich nation as well as for a rich man to come into the kingdom of heaven? i am a little embarrassed seeing rich england now coming into this kingdom. yet she is coming into the kingdom of god, not because she is rich, but because she being powerful humiliated herself, took the cross and went to suffer for the poor and sorely stricken in this world. she humiliated herself going to support belgium; she humiliates herself hurrying to support serbia; she humiliates herself mourning so much for armenia. but her humiliation is the best proof of her true christianity, as her fighting and suffering of to-day is the very fighting and suffering for christianity. do not be afraid of humiliation, citizens of the greatest empire of the world; behold, the humiliation is the very condition of real glory and real greatness! for more than a thousand years, from this place has been preached the only son of god, whose way to glory, greatness and divinity was through painful humiliation. do persist and do not weary in this way,--it will bring your dear country nearer to god. do persist in humiliation,--it will be the most durable foundation of a glorious young england. do persist in supporting oppressed and poor serbia,--it will be rewarded hundredfold to your children and to the children of your children. do persist in doing good, that is my final word to you, my enlightened brethren and sisters. and when i say _do persist in good_, i repeat only what for nine hundred years has been preached within these walls by thousands and thousands of servants of christ, either well-known or unknown, but all more worthy than i am. serbia for cross and freedom. _delivered for the first time in the church of the holy trinity, stroud green, london._ i was a citizen of a small country called serbia, and i am still a citizen of a great country called the universe. in my first fatherland there is now no other light except the brightness of tears. but in my second fatherland there is always the splendid and silent light of the sun. my little country is now a great tear-drop, a shining and silent tear-drop. a gentleman from south africa wrote to me the other day and asked about my country--"why it is so shining"? i replied: just because it is now transformed into a big tear-drop, therefore it is so shining that even you from south africa can see its splendour. i come as an echo of the weeping splendour of my country which is now plunged into the worst slavery. i come as a voice beyond the grave to your famous island, brethren and sisters, not to accuse, not to complain, but to say by what invisible bonds my country is tied to yours. i will say at once, plainly and simply--by common beliefs and common hopes. at the time when saint patrick preached christ's gospel in heathen ireland, the serbs were heathen as well. their gods, with perun at the head, corresponded to wothan and his divine colleagues, whose names are recalled in your names of the days of the week still. about the time when saint augustine came over here, met queen bertha and baptised king ethelbert in saint martin's church in canterbury, the conversion of the heathen serbs had made good progress. in the time of alfred the great, who was "the most complete embodiment of all that is great, all that is lovable in the english temper," as an english historian praises him so justly, the serbs received god's word in their own language from the slav apostles, cyril and methodius, and soon afterwards the christian faith was officially introduced and established among them. in the time of the conquest, when the norman and danish kings disputed the possession of england, the serbian provinces were fought over by the greek, bulgar and avar rulers. but the belief in christ grew more and more uninterruptedly. when richard the lion-hearted sailed from england to the holy land, not to fight for the national existence, as we to-day speak of it, but to fight for the most unselfish and idealistic aim, for cross and christian freedom, serbia was already opening a great epoch of physical as well as spiritual strength. our king nemanja, the founder of a dynasty which ruled in serbia for nearly years, had heard tales and songs about the english king with the lion's heart, and had helped the same cause, the cause of the crusades, very much. his son, saint sava, organised the christian church wonderfully, and wonderfully he inspired the educational and scholarly work in the state created by his father. this saint sava, the archbishop of serbia, after he had travelled all over serbia, greece and bulgaria, preaching the gospel of the son of god, died in bulgaria. his body was transferred to and buried in a monastery in herzegovina. afterwards, in times of national hardships and slavery, great pilgrimages took place to the grave of the saint, which became the comforting and inspiring centre for the oppressed nation; the turks destroyed the tomb, carried the body over to belgrade and burnt it, in order to lessen the serbian national and religious enthusiasm. the result was just the contrary. on the very same place where saint sava's body was burnt there is now a saint sava's chapel; close to this chapel a new saint sava's seminary is to be erected, and also saint sava's cathedral of belgrade. and over all there is an acknowledged protection of saint sava by all the serbian churches and schools, and a unifying spirit of saint sava for all the serbian nation. saint sava's belief was the same as the belief of saint patrick and saint augustine. his hopes were the same as theirs too. he believed in the one saving gospel of christ, as they did. he hoped men could be educated by this divine gospel, to be heroic in suffering and pure and holy in the enjoyments of life, just as the great saints of this island doubtless hoped and worked. the belief and hopes of the serbian kings represented almost throughout our history the model of the true religious spirit and of the hopeful optimism of the nation. that can be said especially for the kings since saint sava's time until the definite conquest of serbia by the sultans, _i.e._ since richard and john's time until the time of the black prince and wycliffe, and from the black prince and wycliffe till the end of the wars of the roses in england. our kings did what all the kings in the world do; they fought and ruled, they ate and drank, and danced and played, and still the majority of them took monastic vows and died in solitude and asceticism, and a great part of them were recognised by the people as saints and invoked by the oppressed in the dark times as the advocates of national justice, before god. they built beautiful churches and monasteries in the towns and forests. they strove always to build the "houses of god" more solid and more costly than their own houses. their castles and palaces they built to their own glory, and their pleasures no longer exist, but the churches they built to the glory of god still exist. in these churches our pious kings of old prayed; in these churches afterwards our hard oppressed people wept during the time of slavery; in these "houses of god" the fanatic turks enclosed their cattle, their goats and sheep, their horses and donkeys, thus abasing and ridiculing our sanctuaries. but the more these sanctuaries have been abased and ridiculed by the enemy, the more they have been respected and adored by the people. we serbs cannot complain that our middle ages were as dark as the people in europe are accustomed to represent their own. during the three hundred years of the reign of neniania's dynasty not one of our kings was killed. the importance of this fact only the historian can understand who knows well the history of our neighbours, the byzantines and venetians of that time, who in many other respects had been our teachers. we learnt many useful as well as perilous things from them, but we did not learn their art of poisoning kings, of torturing them, suffocating them, making them blind, cutting out their tongues, etc. it is only in modern times that we committed the great sins of the middle ages, namely, killing our kings and making civil wars. during the last hundred years we killed only three of our kings: karageorge, michael and alexander. in modern times three have been killed in a hundred years, and in the middle ages not one in three hundred years!--a fact as unusual as curious. but you should remember that our modern times in serbia began after five hundred years of a bloody slavery and dark education under turkish tyranny. i mention our great sins not in order to excuse but to accuse my people. i will not even accuse the turks, our rulers and educators during five hundred years. our ancestors were accustomed to see human blood spilt every day. they were accustomed to hear about strangled sultans and viziers and pashas. and, besides, they lived through the record of all the crimes ever written in history; the turks arranged a horrible bloody bath in executing their plan of killing all the leaders and priests among the serbs! it happened only a hundred years ago, in the lifetime of chateaubriand and wordsworth, in the time of pitt and burke, in the time of your strenuous mission work among the cannibals. our ancestors lived in blood and walked in blood. our five hundred years' long slavery had only two colours--red and black. and yet i will not accuse the turks but ourselves. neither our kings of old, nor our ancestors before the enslavement set us the example of killing kings. rather the strangers that conquered and ruled our country set us such an example. but it is our fault for having followed an abominable example like that. i confess our sins before you, and pray: forgive us, good brothers! forgive us, if you can. god will not forgive us. that is the belief of our people. god is merciful, but still he does not forgive without punishment. god is righteous and sinless, and therefore he has right to punish every sin of man. but it were a monstrous pretension for men to punish every sin, being themselves sinful, very sinful. we will forgive all your mediaeval, if you will forgive us our modern sins. remember! god will begin to "forgive us our trespasses" only at the moment when we all forgive the trespasses of all those that have sinned against us. he will forgive us then, because he will not have anything more to punish. god's mercilessness begins when our mercifulness ends. god will rule the world by justice as long as we rule it by our mercilessness. he will rule the world by mercifulness when we forgive each other, but not before. to forgive the sins of men means for us nothing more than to confess our own sins. to forgive the sins of men means for god nothing less than to let the events be without consequences. and it contradicts human experiences or science. it contradicts also the experiences of our kings of old. they saw and heard of the sins punished, and they feared sin. they regarded humility and mercifulness as the greatest virtues. on the day of the "slava," which means a special serbian festival of the saint patron of the family (every serbian family has its patron among the saints or angels which it celebrates solemnly every year, instead of celebrating their own birthdays), on this day our kings themselves served their guests at the table. it was a visible sign of their humility before the divine powers that rule human life. besides, on every festive occasion in the royal court was placed a bountiful table with meat and drink for beggars and the most abject poor. the king was obliged by his christian conscience and even by national tradition to be merciful. how the people regarded the kings is clear from popular sayings like these: every king is from god. if a king is generous he is from god, as a king should be from god. if a king is narrow and selfish he is from god, as a monkey is from god. a wise king speaks three times to god and only once to the people. a foolish king speaks three times to the people and only once to god. speaking to god a wise king thinks always of his people, and speaking to the people he always thinks of god. a foolish king thinks of himself always, whether he speaks to god or to the people. every king has a crown, but every kingly crown stands not on a kingly head. a gipsy asked a king: of how much value are your riches? the king replied: not more than your freedom. the smile of the king is medicine for a poor man, the laugh of the king is an offence for the mourning one. a king who fears god has pity for the people, but a king who fears the people has pity for himself. the face of a good king lends splendour to his crown, and the crown of a bad king lends splendour to his face. the sins of the people can only sooner bring the king before god, but the sins of the king can push the people to satan's house. the belief of our kings was the same belief which saint sava preached, their hopes were his hopes. god is the eternal and powerful king of the world; christ is the way of salvation from sin; good must be in the end victorious over evil. that was the belief and hope of our kings. was it not likewise the belief and hope of king ethelbert, of saint oswald and edward the confessor? did not richard the lion-hearted struggle for the same belief and hope in palestine, which was at his time as far as a voyage around this planet to-day? is not this same belief and hope the corner stone of westminster abbey and saint paul's, of this church and of every church on this island, and of every great and beautiful deed that you inherited from your ancestors? yet the belief and hopes of our kings were never different from the belief and hopes of the serbian people. the serbian people have shown their individuality only in the dark time of their slavery. the saint and the heroic kings died, but their souls lived still in the hearts of their people, in the white churches they built among the green mountains, in their deeds of mercifulness and repentance. the enslaved people were conscious that there were no more kings of their own who represented all that was the best in the serbian soul, and that they, the people, have now themselves to represent the serbian name, belief and hopes before god and their enemies. and they have done it. at the time when columbus sailed over the seas to find a new continent in the name of the most christian king of spain, the serbian suffering for the christian religion had already begun. at the time when the famous english thinker thomas more wrote _utopia_, preaching brotherhood among men based upon religious and political freedom, the serbs stood there without any shadow of religious and political freedom, dreaming of and singing about the human brotherhood founded only on the ruins of both tyranny and slavery. at the time when the great shakespeare wrote his tragedies in ink, the serbs wrote theirs in blood. at the time when cromwell fought in the name of the bible for the domestic freedom of parliament, the serbian leaders gathered in the lonely forests to tell each other of the crimes that they saw defiling the cross, to confess to each other their cruel sufferings and to encourage each other to live. at the time when milton wrote _paradise lost_, the serbs felt more than anybody in the world the loss of paradise. at the time when livingstone went to dark africa with the light of human civilisation, serbia was ruled by darker powers even than central africa. at the time when the great english philosopher locke wrote his famous book on the education of men, the people of serbia had no schools and no teachers at all; they educated themselves by the memories of the great deeds of the heroes of the past, by looking at their kings' churches, and by glorifying a death for justice and a life of suffering. at the time when adam smith wrote his famous work, _the wealth of nations_, the serbian nation possessed only one form of wealth, and that was the inward wealth of the glorious inheritance of strong belief and of bright hopes. all other forms of wealth that it saw around in the large world, including its own physical life, belonged not to it but to its enemies. at the time when your learned priests and bishops discussed the subtle theological questions of the relations between time and eternity, between justice and forgiveness, between the son and the holy ghost, between transcendence and omnipresence, our priests and patriarchs had to defend the religion of the cross from the aggressive crescent, and to protect the lives of the oppressed, and to lead and inspire the souls of their flock. i think both your and our priests did their duty according to the time and circumstances under which they lived and worked. "for cross and freedom" has been our national motto. it is written on our flag and in the hearts of each of us. our motto never was "for existence" or "for vital interests." that was an unknown form of language to our kings of old, and that is still a language very strange for our ears to hear to-day. we never fought indeed solely for a poor existence in this world. we fought always rather for the ideal contentment of this terrestrial existence. we fought not for life only, but for what makes one's life worth living--"for cross and freedom!" the cross is mentioned first, and then freedom. why? because the cross of christ is the condition of a real freedom. or, because the cross is for god's sake and our freedom is for our sake. we should fight for god's sake first and then for our own. that was the idea. or, because cross and freedom are two words for the same thing. the religion of the cross involves freedom, and real freedom is to be found only in the religion of the cross. "for cross and freedom!" a serbian proverb says: the cross shines better in the heart and the crescent in the hand. another: why are there so many mohammedans in the world? because the crescent pays every day during life to its followers, and the cross pays only after death. have confidence in christ and follow him even into the house of the devil, because he knows the way out. twelve poor apostles did more good to man than the twelve richest sultans. in vain you will ask from god any good without suffering. for suffering is the very heart of every good, of glory, and of pleasure as well. every drop of christ's innocent blood must be paid for by a lake of men's blood. it is better to die for the cross than to live against the cross. when you fight for freedom you are helping every slave in the world, not only yourself. freedom is an atmosphere which makes the sun brighter, and the air clearer, and the honey sweeter. to die for the cross and freedom means two lives and no death. a wolf never can so badly enslave a fellow-wolf as a man can enslave a fellow-man. it is not easier to live in freedom than to fight for freedom. one must fight for freedom as an archangel, but one must live in freedom as a saint. all men that god created can live on the earth. god gave space and air enough for all, if men only would give goodwill. when you pass the tomb of a man who died for cross and freedom, you should bow your head low; and when you pass the palace of a man who lives for wealth and pleasure, only turn your head the other way. i observed during this world-struggle the conduct, deeds and words of our serbian neighbours, and i was in the end both very sorry and very glad. i was very sorry as i read the declaration of a bulgarian statesman: "we bulgars must be on the side of the victors." i was very glad remembering that never in the whole serbian history have such words been uttered by a responsible person. our kings of old said very often that serbia must fight on the side of justice, even if justice has for the moment no visible chance to be victorious. our saint king, lazare, refused on the eve of the _battle of kossovo_ to negotiate with the turkish sultan, whom he regarded as a bearer of injustice and an enemy of christianity. i was very sorry to see that greece broke her pledged word and thoughtlessly refused to keep her treaty with serbia, whereas france with england, who had no signed treaty with serbia, came and did what in the first place it was greece's duty to do. i was still more glad and hopeful in regard to the future of mankind, seeing a great difference of moral views between the leading nations of human civilisation like the english and french, and a small nation like the greek, which is commencing to learn again what many hundred years ago greece taught all other nations. and i was very glad remembering that in our _own_ serbian history there is no case of such an example of infidelity or even of hesitation to fulfil the pledged word of the nation. in this respect the serbian women excelled as well as men. therefore, and because i am speaking before you, brothers and sisters, whose country may be proud not only of a large number of great men of every kind, but of great and famous women as well, i must mention the memorable qualities of the serbian women in the long fight for cross and freedom. what sacrifices _for cross and freedom the serbian_ _women_ have made cannot be enumerated from this pulpit, but only slightly touched upon in a few examples. i take just three splendid names: miliza, yerina and ljubiza. _queen miliza_ was a lady of a peaceful domestic character. but she was also the wife of the most tragic king in our serbian history, of king lazare, who perished with all his army on the field of kossovo fighting for cross and freedom against islam rushing over europe. she had nine brothers--nine brothers and a father. all were killed on kossovo together with king lazare, and miliza survived that catastrophe. after the death of king lazare, queen miliza ruled the country together with her son, stephen the tall. but sultan bayazet asked three things from the new rulers in serbia. firstly, he asked for miliza's daughter mara for his harem. miliza gave her daughter. then bayazet asked a second, more dreadful thing, namely, that his unfortunate mother-in-law should build a mosque in krushevaz, the serbian capital at that time, so as to have a place where he could pray when he came to visit her. there existed and still exists a beautiful church built by king lazare. now miliza was constrained to build, close to this dear monument of her husband, in which she prayed every day for his soul and for the salvation of serbia, a turkish mosque. she agreed silently and she protested silently. then bayazet asked a third still more dreadful thing, namely, that stephen the tall should help him with his troops in a time of danger for the turkish empire. queen miliza with a broken heart advised her son to sign such a treaty in order to save the rest of the state and people. but very soon it happened that bayazet needed and asked for stephen's help against the formidable mongol conqueror tamerlan. stephen hated both the asiatic monsters--bayazet and tamerlan--equally, and it was more profitable for him to break the treaty with bayazet and to help tamerlan, who had more chance. but he remained faithful to his pledged word. bayazet was beaten, taken prisoner and encaged as a beast by tamerlan. and stephen, after having fought splendidly for his ally with the serbian cavalry, came home. when thinking over the present conduct of our greek ally, i am reminded very often of this noble and loyal king of my country. queen miliza could not endure any longer all the terrible changes from bad to worse; she transferred all the power to her son, built a wonderful monastery, ljubostinja, near krushevaz, where she as a nun found a retreat in which to pray and to live, until the end of her weary and melancholy life. _queen yerina_ was the last serbian ruler in the country, which slowly sank into slavery. she was very intelligent and very energetic. the turkish sultan took two sons of hers as hostages. she gave them up, and she continued to rule the country. but both of her sons were blinded by red-hot irons and sent back to their mother. even this did not break yerina's energy. she constructed great fortresses all over the country to protect the people from the enemy's invasion. she never had any rest, thinking and working to save serbia. she offered the most obstinate resistance to the turks as well as to the discontented faction among the serbs. many of her contemporaries were ungrateful to her and called her the "cursed yerina," but still posterity bestows upon her great admiration and sympathy. _princess ljubiza_ came on the scene of our history only a hundred years ago, in the days of the serbian revolution and resurrection. as queen miliza and yerina sacrificed all to save the honour of serbia, so ljubiza did her best to help her husband, prince milosh, to liberate the country from the turks. once after the second revolution broke out, the serbian troops were engaged in a bloody battle on morava river. but the turks were in an overwhelming majority, besides that they had better arms and more munitions. the frightened serbian troops fled. ljubiza saw that the situation was quite decisive for the whole future, ran to meet the soldiers, and to admonish them to go back and fight. "what wretched soldiers you are!" she cried. "are not the turks made of flesh and blood as you? cannot their blood be shed as yours? whither are you running? home? but we women only are at home. well, come home, take our distaff and spin, and give us your rifles; we will go and fight." the soldiers were so ashamed and encouraged by this remarkable woman that they turned back and began to fight anew so fiercely that the enemy was confusedly beaten and dispersed, and a decisive victory won by the serbs. for cross and freedom fought the serbian women directly or indirectly, not only the queens and princesses, but all the peasant women as well, if not otherwise, then at least in giving life and education to the fighters, whom powerful england repeatedly called her worthy allies. england is also fighting for cross and freedom, not for existence, not for sea, not for wealth, but for cross and freedom, for the christian cross and for the freedom of the smaller nations. it means in other words: for god's cause. for who created the small nations if not he that created all great and small things in this wonderful world? or who has the divine right and sad duty to exterminate, to suffocate, to enchain, the small creations of the highest if the highest wants them to exist? great britain justified her greatness by entering this war so as to protest against the violation of right, even by those who agreed to this right, and to protect the small and poor. it is easy to be physically great, but it is difficult to be morally great. great is the power which violates the right, still greater is the power which protects the right. to destroy is much easier than to build. to be great and to be proud means not to be great at all. to be great and to be modest means real greatness and belief in god. for who can be proud believing in god? or who can feel god in this universe and still say, i am great? our modesty is only our confession that there is a god. since we see both ends of our life--birth and death--so near us, we must be humiliated. yet who can see any end of god, either in the past or in the future? where are all the greatest empires of the past? all is dust under the feet of the eternal. whither are we all going, great or small? to be dust under his feet. from this dust will survive only the small portion of god's spirit that dwells in this dust. all our thoughts and feelings, and deeds and strivings, and struggles and passions, which are directed towards dust will die together with our bodily dust. only that portion of our being which is directed towards god will survive, will continue to live in the presence of god, will see god. for god only can see god. fighting for belgium, for serbia and montenegro, for armenia, poland and bohemia, for all the poor and oppressed--great britain is fighting for god's cause. for whose cause indeed is belgium's and serbia's, if not god's cause? i wonder who would protect all the oppressed in the world if not this country, in which god's word is more taught and learned than in any other, and which is endowed with all good gifts that god can give to mortals? yet fighting for god's cause, one fights best for one's own. yes, we fight always best for our own cause when we have it least in sight. england entered this war not after a long calculation; she entered the war spontaneously and only afterwards she put the question to herself: why did i enter this war? now england is conscious why she entered the war. she knows now that somebody else pushed her into this avar, and that she is fighting for somebody else's cause. this somebody else is--god. the sons of great britain going to the east to fight are going the same pathway as their ancestors went in the time of the crusaders. the same way, the same aim: to save the honour of the cross and to fight for freedom! it is the pathway of supreme suffering, but also the only pathway of real glory and merit. any other way for england's greatness was impossible. england had to choose either the way of pettiness or of greatness. she chose the second. god bless england! we pray to thee, our father, in order not to change thy will but ours. thy will be done! if serbia is an impediment to human civilisation and an evil, as our german brothers think, father, make of serbia a salt lake before they make of her a cemetery. yet thy will be done and not ours. we are thine in our righteousness and in our sins. what is, indeed, the whole of our planet? a small grain of dust. what are we, then, on this small grain of dust? we, men, either great or little? we, nations, rich or poor? we, the churches, either right or wrong? one word only i dare to say: the silence in thy presence shall be our name, and our prayer. even on the brightest and most peaceful day of our life, there is no true light except thee. how much more we need thy light in the darkness of the present moment! we are a small grain of dust under thy throne, but remember, the only grain of dust which can consciously worship thee. that shall be our only glory and pride among our brothers: animals, plants, and stones. but in worshipping thee we become fellows of the stars. lord, be our everlasting sun and cast thy light on every star, now and for ever. amen. serbia at peace. _delivered for the first time at cambridge, in the new lecture rooms, the vice-chancellor of the university in the chair._ the most suitable language for tragedy is silence. serbia's tragedy needs no rhetoric, no language to describe it, to exalt it. for silence, and not rhetoric, makes tragedy greater. serbia's silence to-day is as deep as her tragedy is dark. the most silent suffering is the most vocal suffering at the same time. the most silent suffering is like a screw boring into the conscience of the makers of the suffering. such silent suffering is the severe judge of the world who makes all rich people poor, all proud humble, all pleasure bitter, all human progress abased. there is something wrong about this life. what may it be? i do not know, but suffering reminds us every day that there is something wrong with this world. suffering from surrounding nature is not the worst,--nature can be governed by us; nor the suffering from god,--god can be touched by our prayer; but the worst of all is our suffering from ourselves. thousands and thousands of serpents live in serbia. yet all the serpents throughout the serbian history, from the time of the druids on this island till the time of tennyson and kipling, effected not such a poisonous devastation of men and cattle in serbia as lately a host of invaders did, who boastfully regarded themselves to be at the summit of human civilisation. it is despairing to see what use of her power, her "kultur," her science and her riches, germany of to-day is making in serbia, among a people who for half a thousand years struggled against the turkish tyranny with the motto _for cross and freedom_, and who looked sometimes from their dark corner towards the german kaiser, the knight of many holy orders, as towards the champion and redeemer of enslaved christianity in the balkans. never suffered a nation from serpents as much as the poor nation of serbs suffers to-day from "civilised" men. don't you think indeed that there is something wrong about this life of ours? the bible showed in its first sheets that there is something very wrong with us. by the killing of his brother, cain fore-shadowed all the history of mankind. even the first man on earth was not a balanced and happy creature. all our earthly time is filled up with a passionate convulsion in a struggle for life and light. yet our confusion and unhappiness chiefly come from ourselves, and neither from nature nor from god. when will this suffering of man from man stop? we have been accustomed to speak hopefully about the twentieth century. we supposed that that century at least would show the serpents as greater enemies of men than men themselves. we see despairingly to-day that the serpents are innocent creatures in comparison with men. the tragedy of crushed and murdered serbia is a crying proof of how the serpents are comparatively innocent creatures. yet serbia is silent in her tragedy. i myself would prefer to be silent too. but i cannot, being not only an unhappy survivor of a horrible shipwreck, but above all a priest and servant of god. if our national pride bids us serbs be silent in this shipwreck, my christian honour and pride bids me cry out and protest. i am a surviving protest of my murdered country. yet i am still a transitory protest, a protest only for a moment before god the slow and the righteous begins to protest himself. my protest is in words, my words are from the air. but god's protest will be, as always, from the unquenchable fire, which burns bodies and souls. i indicate only the terrible protest which will come. why am i protesting now before you, sons and daughters of great britain? because you have been the champions of the bible in the world, i.e. the champions of justice, freedom and the brotherhood of men. because your knights have fought for the christian cross and freedom. your island has been an island of salvation for all the refugees, who as champions of liberty must escape from their own countries--among others, rousseau, voltaire and victor hugo, even the sons of a very liberal nation. your most famous generals and admirals have humiliated the greatest conqueror of the world and granted him a cottage on a small island in which to live, instead of the world empire of which he dreamed. your statesmen--i will mention only a few of them: pitt, bright, gladstone--asserted repeatedly that the domestic and foreign policy of this country should be founded on christian principles. your women are famous in the world because of the fine and humane education that they give to their children in order to make every new generation a new proof to the world of how this island is obviously worthy of its great role on our planet. your working people possess a healthy sense of both reality and idealism, and avoiding all extremes and extravagances, to which poverty necessarily leads the working class in other countries, are powerfully promoting human progress, the material as well as the moral. your nobility, far from being corrupted and degenerated by their wealth, have filled the world with astonishment from the beginning of this war by their extraordinary patriotism and willingness to sacrifice everything, including life itself, in the struggle for the honour and the unshakable ideals of their country. that is why i am protesting before you, valiant sons and daughters of great britain, the heirs of the most valuable heritage that ever a nation could call its own. serbian life in peace time is the most eloquent accusation and the mightiest protest against the crime of two great christian kaisers. these two christian kaisers conquered serbia by their iron and mercilessness, and bound serbia's throat so horribly that in serbia there is now air and light only for the conquerors and not for the conquered. breath-less and breadless, serbia cannot protest, but i can. well, i propose to describe to you to-night serbia and the serbians in peace time, in order to show you what life your smallest allies lived before the great storm came over their country. i will begin with: the serbian village. why? because the village is the very foundation of all that we possess in material, spiritual and moral good. after the turks conquered serbia, five hundred years ago, the serbian population was forced by the conquerors by degrees to abandon the towns and to retreat into the villages, and then to abandon even the villages in the plains, on the banks of the rivers, where the soil was the most fruitful, and to escape into the forests, mountains and less accessible country. the village thus became the very soil upon which has grown our democracy. that is the difference between our democracy and the west european, where the democrats movement started and developed in the towns. driven into the forests and mountains by the common enemy, despoiled of freedom and riches the upper and lower classes, the learned and the illiterate, suffered the same abasement and injustice, did the same work, ploughed and sowed, struggled against the same evil, the turkish yoke, and sang of the same hopes. under such conditions was born our democratic spirit, which served wonderfully afterwards, in the time of liberation and freedom, as a base for our democratic institutions, social, political and ecclesiastical. i said that our village is the very foundation of our material wealth. we have, so to say, no industry, but every one of our peasants has his own land. the land being fertile, our country never knew what hunger was. it was a pleasure to see the peasants in the spring ploughing their own soil; in the summer looking over the-golden harvest of their own; in the autumn contemplating the stores plenteously filled; in the winter feasting and resting in their own houses. if you should ask any of the serbian peasants: "to whom does this house belong? or this field? or this harvest?" he would unmistakably reply: "to god and to me!"--so in the mind of our peasants god is the first landlord, and the second they themselves. even during the last three years of war in serbia there was plenty of all the necessaries of life, especially of wheat and cattle, of fruits and hay, of vegetables and wood. but now--in serbia all the wealth is in the past; it exists only in the memories of the despoiled, plundered, devastated, starved and silent slaves. in the german papers there was published a private letter from a german soldier in serbia. "we are very well here. we have plenty of food and everything. much more abundantly than we had on the western front!" i am sure you understand well what this soldier meant and whence such an abundance in food supply "and everything" for the german invaders in serbia came. almost simultaneously a german army commander wrote to a man in a neutral country these words: "not only i permit you to come into serbia and help the serbs, but i pray you come at once. among the population in serbia there is the greatest misery and almost starvation _en masse._" what happened? the "civilised" subjects of kaiser william would not kill the civil people in serbia directly as the stupid turks did, but indirectly in order to save the faithless honour of "civilisation." they drove away the population--that means the old and sick men, women and children--all other serbs serving as soldiers and being in retreat; they drove the population away, took food, cattle, copper, warm clothes, carpets, covers, everything, and after this was done, allowed the people graciously to come back "to their homes and their customs," as the kaiser declared. but to come how and where? thousands died on the way back, thousands succeeded in coming back to their cold and breadless homes to die there; they are considered as the happier; and thousands fled with the serbian troops into albania and to the mediterranean islands, where they died or are still dying from hunger, but because they died in freedom and not as slaves they are considered as the happiest. we are beggars now. this is the first year in our history that we must pray to men for bread; until now we prayed only to god for daily bread, and god gave it to us abundantly. but we became beggars for bread only after the german civilisation showed itself to be a beggar, poor in moral, poor in truth and heart. now i will try to show you how the serbian village became the foundation of the serbian spirit. no universities, no schools, no libraries, no written literature and no lectures for five hundred years! imagine such a people. that is the serbian people. the only men who could write--the priests; the only library--the memory; the only education--the mother; the only university--nature; the only historians--the blind bards; the only friend and comforter--god! imagine such a people and call them--serbs. imagine the english people for half a thousand years without schools, without education, without universities, without historians, authors, friends and comforters! i am sure it is difficult for you to imagine your country even without shakespeare, and without oxford and cambridge scholarships and the british museum, not to mention other things. it may be of great interest to a psychologist as well as to a historian to know what kind of mental activity a people shows who are deprived of all that we to-day consider as an indispensable need of daily life. what may such a people be doing? well, when by such a people are meant the eskimos, it is clear: they hunt, eat, talk and sleep. but when by such a people is meant a people of the european, aryan race--what then? the serbs are a european, aryan race. what did they do? three things--they thought, sang and hoped. they _thought_. they thought about heaven and earth, about life and death, and man and animal, and about everything that affects human nature. they made comparisons and asked for the reason and purpose of everything. they drew their conclusions and expressed the results of their long observations. they thought a very, very long time before they uttered a short sentence. these sentences lived in the oral traditions, and have been transferred from one generation to another. these sentences are very like the proverbs in the bible, very like la rochefoucauld or extracts and quotations from famous works. the serbian sentences are striking. i have read a good deal by the great writers of europe, but very often a popular serbian saying strikes me more forcibly than a famous book. here is just one saying: god is on the height, satan is in the depth, man is in the middle. if god will, he can be above, below and in the middle. if satan will, he can be below and in the middle. if man will, he can be like god everywhere, in the middle, or above or below. another: a bird envied the serpent; thou knowest earth very well. the serpent envied the bird: thou knowest heaven very well. and both envied man: thou knowest heaven and earth. man replied: "my knowledge and my ignorance make me equally unhappy." another: either snow or ice, or steam or fluid, water is always water. either poor or rich, or ignorant or learned, man is always man. another: only a half-good man can be disappointed in this world. but a wholly good man never is disappointed because he never expects a reward for his good actions. the serbian people _sang_ also. sitting around the fire in the long winter nights, the serbian peasants sang their glorious past, their dark present and their hopes for the future. there is a serbian instrument called the _gusle_, more interesting than the greek lyre, because more appropriate for the epic songs. it looks also like the indian instrument _tamboura_. well, as the ancient greek bards sang their achilles, using the lyre, and as the ancient indian singers sang their krishna with the help of the tamboura, so the serbian epic singers accompanied with the gusle their songs on their hero of old, marko. marko was a historic person, a king's son. he was the never-weary champion of right and justice, the protector of the poor and oppressed, a believer in the victorious good, a man who left an impression on the coming generations like a lightning flash in the dark clouds. in every village house in serbia there is a gusle, and almost in every family a good singer with the gusle. the blind bards sang on the occasion of the festival or a meeting. the great pitt, when once asked from whom he learned the english history so well, replied: "from shakespeare." to the same question we serbs can reply: "from our national poetry." it is very rare for a people in the mass to know their past as well as the serbs know their own. the serbs regard their history not so much as a dry science, but rather as an art, a drama, which must be told in a solemn language. they knew their history, and therefore they sang it; they sang it, and therefore they knew it better and better. the serbian men sang, but not only the men, the women sang as well. when the harvest was being gathered during july and august, the women and girls sang in the fields or under the fruit trees. in our country we have the sun abundantly, and the outdoor singing responds fully to the luxuriance of light. what shall i say then about our women's singing in the autumn in the dry and soft moonlight? it is the time of spinning on the distaff. the tired men go to bed, but the women sit down in a circle in the houseyard in the open place. they chat and they sing without stopping their spinning. they sing two and two, in duet, but so that a new duet is begun when the other finishes. this duet singing is not only in one family, but in many at the same time, in different parts of the village. moonlight--we have wonderful clear and white moonlight in serbia--silence, singing from every side, from every house, from girls, nightingales and other birds. the whole of the village is the stage, hundreds of singers, moonlight and open starry space--i am sure you would be much more fascinated by such a serbian rustic opera than by many modern operas on a stage in london. and now--there rushed into serbia: the kaiser, who does not sing, and our singing stopped. under the turks the serbian people sang. you can find in the british museum ten big volumes of the serbian national poetry which was composed during the time of the turkish rule in serbia. this rule was very hard and very dark indeed, but still we considered ourselves as the champions of the cross against the crescent, and we imagined that we should be the bulwark of christian europe, i.e. of central europe in the first place. therefore we endured the struggle with the turks, singing and hoping. and now--the two _christian_ kaisers, with a fox from sofia, have crushed serbia more completely than she ever was crushed by the turks. "come back to your homes and your customs," so the kaiser william invited the serbian refugees. "to your customs!" but, oh _illustrissime caesar,_ we could reply, our first and best custom is to sing. tell us, how we could sing now? you know, oh kaiser, because you preached the bible also, you must know the biblical complaints of the israel of old: "by the rivers of babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered zion. we hung our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. for there they that carried us away captive required of us a song, saying, sing us one of the songs of zion? how shall we sing the lord's song in a strange land?" you are now playing a real babylonian role towards us serbs, i.e. towards a people who fought for the cross, who sang freedom and who were crucified for justice. you are not a better man than any peasant from the serbian villages. do you want a proof? the serbian peasant can sing, and you cannot. you cannot sing, not because of your diseased throat, but because of your evil conscience. you stopped the singing in a country of songs, oh ill majesty! how could we now sing our songs while our homes are transformed into empty caves? how could we sing, seeing our bread in strangers' hands and cold stones in ours? how could we sing now, when all our past protests against you and all our dead are disturbed in their graves? you covered our country with sins and crimes, and it is not our custom to sing of sins and crimes, but of virtues. when will you show us your virtues? you have shown us until now only your iron and fire, your brutality and brutality, and again brutality and brutality,--and, did i say?--iron and fire. that is the essence of your religion and science, of your soul and glory. we will despise all that you brought into our country. let us be silent, sire, and you may continue to show your mephistophelean civilisation, and after you have crushed all those who are weaker and smaller than you, sire, open your lips and preach upon their ruin to your admirers: _cantate domino!_ but we will not sing after our custom of old in your presence. we prefer to be silent and to wait for god's judgment. the hidden moral treasures of the serbian people are now shining, as always, throughout all the times of darkness and suffering. you will remember from the beginning of the war all the declarations of the serbian government about the serbian loyalty to the end. some among you might have thought: such declarations are dictated by political reasons. no, such declarations have been only a poor expression of what we all in serbia thought and felt. loyalty to friends, devotion to our pledged word, fidelity to the signed and unsigned treaties were always considered in serbia as sacred duties in the conscience of the people. our morale is not something that was learned in the schools--do not forget we had no schools for centuries--but rather an inherited treasure which every man was obliged to keep in great brilliancy. it is not a morale supported by learning, sophisms and quotations, it is an elementary power which is not a possession, but which has possession of everybody. our prime minister uttered the other day these words: "better to die in beauty than to live in shame!" fifteen hundred years ago similar words were uttered on this island of yours by a knight of beowulf's escort: "death is better than a life of shame." every child in serbia thinks the same as our prime minister about the value of life and death. "better to die than" to live so and so, or than to do this or that--hundreds of the serbian proverbs begin with those words. in proverbs is expressed our moral wisdom, in proverbs and poetry. yet our proverbs are poetry as well. the morale is regarded not so much as a teaching, rather as poetry, like history. history and morality are things which shall be sung, history and morality are such dignified topics that they must be expressed in a dignified, solemn language. poetry is the very essence of things. it is the most earnest thing in the world. that is our opinion. the serbs read the bible very little, although they had the bible in their own language and used it in divine service before you used it in the church of your own. the bible was listened to in the church, but poetry at home. as shakespeare can be called your second bible, so, and still more, our national poetry for us has been indeed a second bible. our poetry has been our history, our moral, our beauty, our hopes, our education, our encouragement--our bible. by our poetry, as by the bible, the morale is not only taught but inspired. what is this morale, taught by serbian poetry and proverbs, when uttered in a dry form? "dear god, we thank thee for all," that is the usual beginning of every poem. love? love is better than justice. justice? justice is better than injustice. injustice? it must be punished. suffering? it must be relieved. patience? that is the great virtue of the sufferers. honour? better to die than to give up honour. dishonour? it means as much as death. mercifulness? it shines like the sun over the world. a beggar? he puts your heart to the test. death? god is behind death and therefore death is no evil. prayer? it shall be used always, but it never helps unless we do our best. humility? it is always rewarded by love. fearlessness? it is commended very strongly. cowardice? it is repudiated and despised to the utmost. obedience? youth must be obedient and respectful towards old people. chastity? better to burn down a church than to take or to give away chastity. protection of the weak? marko protected weak people and animals. that is a great merit. chivalry? always; towards friends and enemies. work? without work prayer does not help. freedom? man is man only in living in freedom and in fighting for freedom. wealth? it is no virtue, and if it does not support virtue, it is a vice. god? he is the lord of the world and thy steady companion. such morals have been preached, yea, sung by our ancestors, and by ourselves. certainly we have sinned often against these morals, but in our sins and in our virtues they have been always regarded as a standard of all that is good and beautiful. sinning serbia. serbia sinned and repented her sins, and again sinned. put yourselves, gentlemen, in the chair of a judge, and i will confess to you all the sins of serbia. serbia sinned and suffered. her sins have been her hell, her sufferings--her purgatory. i don't pray you to forgive serbia, but only to compare justly her sins with her sufferings. the serbs sinned against all the ten commandments, it is true, but still regarded the ten commandments as the standard which is better than a nation's doings. although the people said beautifully: "a grain of truth is better than a ton of lies," still the lie, like a parasite, had its nest in serbia as elsewhere. although the people said: "it is better to be blind with justice than to have eyes with injustice," still injustice had its seed, its growth and fruits among the same people. although cain's sin has been abhorred by the conscience of the serbs, still this sin of taking the life of a brother has defiled the very soil of serbia, which has been so much sanctified by the sufferings and unselfish sacrifices of her people. you will not find certainly in serbia the refined vices which are practised in the shadow of great civilisations, but you will find quite enough great and small sins, which the serbian conscience does not justify any more than yours. the serbian and the bulgarian spirit. besides, i will confess to you one great sin of the serbian people. it is an exaggerated love for independence. it is a virtue as every honest love is a virtue, but it becomes a sin if exaggerated. it is a brilliant quality like the sunshine in the time of fighting against the common enemy, but it is a sin in peace time when organised efforts for the social welfare are required. this spirit of independence, the independence from enemies as well as from friends, has considerably disturbed our social life and progress-during the last century. now, by this greatest of our sins and greatest of our virtues as well, we serbs differed chiefly from our neighbours. the people in great britain have been accustomed to look towards the balkans as towards a country with one and the same spirit. this is a great mistake. there are chiefly two spirits: the serbian and the bulgarian, _i.e._ the spirit of independence and the spirit of slavery. the serbian spirit resisted until the end stubbornly and tenaciously against the turks conquering the balkans five centuries ago. the bulgarian spirit surrendered without any resistance. "the kral of bulgaria did not wait to be conquered, but humbly begged for mercy"; so writes an english historian.[ ] the rebellious spirit of the serbs arose first in the balkan darkness a hundred years ago against the tyranny and the despotic wickedness of the turkish rulers, and liberated the serbian fatherland. the bulgarian spirit waited until strangers came and liberated the bulgarian country. those strangers have been: russians, serbians, roumanians and mr. gladstone. the bulgarian spirit has been since under the rule of the german kings, as slavishly subordinate as it was for five hundred years under the rule of the turkish viziers and pashas. it was pure ignorance which made some people exclaim some months ago: "it is king ferdinand's war against serbia and the allies, and not the bulgarian people's. the bulgars will never fight against the russians, their liberators." yet the fact is and will remain: the bulgarian people have only one thought, i.e. the thought of their ruler, be it ferdinand or somebody else, and they have only one will, i.e. the will of their ruler. they will fight against the russians as fiercely as they fought against the turks yesterday, and against the french and british to-day, if it is only the plan and will of their ruler. this slavish spirit, which is a disgrace to a nation in the most tragic and decisive events of the world's history, makes the bulgarian people in peace very happy and fit for peaceful organised work, when obedience and subordination are required. this slavish spirit is the greatest virtue and the greatest sin of the bulgarian nation. yet, i am speaking of our own sins, and i confess that our greatest sin has been the too greatly developed love of personal independence. it is the truest spirit of the serbs. from this spirit originated all our fortunes and all our misfortunes. from the point of view of this spirit consider, please, all our sins in modern times: the killing of our kings, the internal disturbances, and all the irregularity in the political and social life of our country, and you will understand us better; and if you understand us better, i am sure you will forgive us more easily. serbia in prayer. serbia has sinned, serbia has prayed. if you put on one side of the scales serbia's sins and on the other serbia's sufferings and prayers, i am sure the latter will send the balance down. again i must come back to the serbian village. prayer is there considered not only as an epilogue to a sin but as a daily necessity. the first duty after one's ablution in the morning is prayer. that is a sanctified custom. many songs on our national hero, marko, begin as follows: "marko got up early in the morning, washed his face and prayed to god." and all the songs begin, i repeat it, with the verse: "dear god, we are thankful to thee for all." but not only the songs begin with prayer, every work and every pleasure begins with prayer as well, every day and every night, every feast, every rest and every journey. this custom has been partly broken and abandoned only in the towns under the influence of the central european materialistic civilisation. in the villages unbelief is unknown. in our green fields, under our dark-blue heaven, in our little white houses and wooden cottages, on the banks of our murmuring brooks and magnificent rivers, atheism is unknown. every family in a house is regarded as a little religious community. the head of the family presides over this community and prays with it. when i tell you that, i tell you my personal experience. i was born in a village, in a family of forty-five members. we prayed together every saturday, after the weekly work was over. in the evening my grandfather, the head of the family, called us to prayer. we had no chapel in the house. in bad weather we prayed in the house, in fine weather out of doors, in the yard. the starry heaven served as our temple, the moon as our guardian, the silent breath of the surrounding nature as our inspiration. my grandfather took a chalice with fire and incense, and sprinkled every one of us. then he came forward, stood before us and bowed deeply, and his example was followed by us all. then began a silent prayer, interrupted only here and there by a sighing or by some whispering voice. we crossed ourselves and prayed, looking to the earth and looking to the stars. the prayer ended again with deep bowing and with a loud amen. when i recall this prayer in my memory, i feel more piety, more humility and more comfort than i ever felt in any of the big cathedrals in either hemisphere where i have had the opportunity of praying. this prayer of the serbian peasants, beautiful in its simplicity and touching in its sincerity, survived generation after generation, and has been victorious over all crimes that the strangers of the asiatic or of the european faith have committed on us. our tenacious and incessant prayer is an evident sign of our tenacious and unbroken hope. we pray because we hope; we hope still more after we have prayed. everything can be disturbed in serbia except prayer. the invasion of the kaiser's troops in serbia disturbed and perturbed everything in serbia, but the prayer of the serbian people still continues. enslaved in serbia, dispersed as the refugees are all over the world, we pray to the god of justice, now as always. our prayer means our hope. the kaiser's subjects and the bulgarian slaves can kill everything in serbia--and the purpose of their coming into serbia is killing--but they never can kill our hope. martyred serbia, your loyal ally, oh noble sons and daughters of great britain, is now silent and powerless. enemies and friends can now laugh her to scorn. she will remain silent. i am sure you will respect this silence of the crucified. i am sure everyone of you will do his best to redeem serbia. well, serbia can now give, after all, her cause to god and can wait the end hopefully. she can now say to the kaiser, her conqueror and lord, the words of one of your great poets: "i have lost, you have won this hazard yet perchance my loss may shine yet goodlier than your gain when time and god give judgement." a c swinburne (_faliero_). serbia in arms. delivered before the english soldiers. i propose to-night, gentlemen, to describe to you serbia, my native country, my dream of the past, my dream of the future, and one of your allies, loyal and faithful in life and death. i will try, of course, to give you only some glances at and slight insight into what serbia has represented with her soul, her efforts, ideals and hopes. the time is short, yea, our time to-day is more empty than the events which surprise us every day, every night, and overwhelm us like an avalanche of snow and ice from the alps. how poor and insufficient is our human language to-day, even the language of the most eloquent mortals from this island like burke, macaulay and carlyle, to describe the events which our eyes are seeing and our ears listening to at the present moment! do not expect from me an equivalent description of serbia, which has been one of the greatest factors in this world-war during many months, and which has disturbed your hearts for so long and attracted thousands of your sons and friends over the seas, to take the sword from serbia's mangled hands and continue the struggle for the same cause for which she fought until death. all that i can tell you consists in some poor instances and remembrances which will be sufficient to show you that serbia has been worthy to live and to be your ally, and consequently that she is worthy of your great sympathy with her and of your helping her resurrection. serbia has been at war since . in autumn king peter of serbia consecrated his church of white marble, built in topola, the birthplace of his grandfather, karageorge, the protagonist of balkan liberation. on the same hill, on which karageorge took the resolution to begin one of the greatest things that ever happened on the troublesome balkan soil, on the hill of oplenaz, karageorge's grandson, king peter, erected a beautiful church and then declared war on turkey. it was one of many wars that we had with turkey, one of many--known and unknown to you--during five hundred years. we have had our old accounts with the turks. we despised them as the slaves will despise their lords, and they despised us as the lords will despise their slaves. yet we respected their virtues, and they recognised some of ours. with the sword they conquered our country, and we knew that only with the sword we could reconquer it from them. our christian drama with the turks in the balkans began with blood, and we all believed it must finish with blood. in our bloody conflict with the turks we, the christians, lost three kings--one of them was king constantine of byzantium, and two were the serbian kings, vukashin and lazare--during a period of seventeen years. as well as serbia and greece, roumania also offered great resistance to the turks. it is a historic fact, that after the decisive balkan battle on the field of kossovo, the roumanians also fought against the turks. in the battle of rovina between the turks and roumanians, our epic serbian hero, marko kralevich, the last king of macedonia, called marko of prilep, also participated, and was killed there. he was the third serbian king killed in the defence of christian freedom in the balkans. that was the time when the albanians, too, showed their virtues more than ever before. under skenderbeg, the prince from croya, they resisted the mussulmans very bravely. but they fell into slavery in the same way as serbia, greece, roumania and croatia. the only country in the balkans which surrendered without any resistance was bulgaria. the only country in the balkans that never was conquered by the turks was montenegro. poor montenegro, a skeleton of rocky mountains, has shown during five hundred years more heroic beauty and idealistic enthusiasm than many great empires in asiatic and european history, which fought their selfish battles for power and comfort, and have been respected and adored merely because of their numbers and dimensions. now, in the year of our lord, , two serbian kingdoms, serbia and montenegro, with two other christian kingdoms, greece and bulgaria, declared war on the turks. the roumanians were with their sympathies on the side of the christian allies. the albanians, degenerate and disorganised, very different from skenderbeg's contemporaries, standing now under the influence of austria, were pro-turks and against the christian warriors. shall i remind you of the results? i suppose the surprising fact is fresh in your memories even now that only two months after the balkan war had been declared the delegates of the belligerents for peace stayed in hyde park hotel in london. turkey lost and the christians won. the serbian troops crossed the frontier and fighting proceeded in three different directions, towards skoplje and prilep, towards adrianople and towards scutari. a foreigner never can realise what a serbian soldier thought and felt at that time. skoplje had been the centre of our mediaeval kingdom; in prilep lived and ruled king marko, our national hero; under the walls of. adrianople king vukashin, marko's father, was killed resisting the turkish invasion; scutari was the last free dominion of the serbian kings balshic before universal darkness covered the whole of the balkans, except montenegro. in every direction the serbian soldiers faced their own history. their past glory has been revived; their heroes of old excited their imagination; many saw them in visions or in dreams, all imitated them in heroic deeds and in sufferings. here succumbed the saint king lazare! exclaimed our soldier in the field of kossovo. here fell the duke milosh after he killed the turkish sultan murad! here lived marko of prilep! from this fortress he protected the remnants of the serbian people and their past glory after the fatal battle of kossovo! here on the stones the hoofs of shiraz, marko's cherished horse, are to be seen. there are churches built by king urosh, or stephen, or milutin, or dushan, or lazare! here on the mariza river fell vukashin with sixty thousand of the most splendid serbian warriors defending the freedom of the balkans. there on scutari stand lofty walls constructed by the same king vukashin. this is the way by which the byzantine princesses had come to be the wives of our kings or dukes. there is the town where king dushan, in allegiance with kantakusen and the greeks, fought against the first turkish invaders. on this lake of ochrida was a beautiful church with a serbian archbishopric. that is the mountain where the _villas_ (fairies) lived and from which they flew down to help our heroes or to preserve the serbian down-trodden rights. in this town king nemanja met the crusaders from the west proceeding to the east and gave them hospitality. in that town our greatest king proclaimed the famous codex of laws, _zakonik_, which is comparable with the best codexes of that kind. here are the tombs of our patriarchs, who led and protected the nation during centuries of oppression and slavery. there are the towers built from the skeletons of the serbian leaders, who were slaughtered for their ideals of freedom; and there again is the spot where were hanged several _voivodas_ and _bishops_. bones upon bones, blood upon blood, sin upon sin, heroism upon heroism! kossovo, scutari, kumanovo, skoplje, prilep, bitolj, adrianople--all these names were well known by every serbian soldier. in their childhood and boyhood they sang these very names, they sang them and knew the historical events and heroes connected with them. and so they came now not as guests and strangers, but they returned home after a long absence. it seems to every one of them like a dream: the land which has been for generations and generations the topic of poetry now stood before the serbian warriors as a reality. the serbian brothers from austria-hungary came to macedonia, kissed the sacred soil, and each one took a handful of the sacred dust from the tombs of our kings and heroes of old. two months after the outbreak of war king peter returned to topola and prayed gratefully in his white church to god and to saint george. this democratic king, who has been elected by the serbian parliament (_skupshtina_), thanked god that he with his people had finished the work of liberation from the turkish yoke, which work was started by karageorge, his grandfather, who also was elected by the people to be their leader. in summer . the war with the turks was a short one. yet the war with the bulgars was still shorter. the bulgars attacked us in a dark night. austria suggested such an attack, and this quite suited the bulgarian spirit. it is a slavish spirit, full of slavish ambitions and slavish abject methods. when i tell you that, believe me, i tell it neither as a chauvinist nor even as a serbian patriot, but as a man who has studied very carefully the history and psychology of the balkan peoples. the bulgarian attack against the serbian army was resisted not only by the serbs, as the bulgars hoped, but by the greeks and roumanians as well. i visited the battlefield afterwards. i have been in stip, a town on the bregalniza river, where the attack began. i saw the tree on the bank of the river, under which the serbian and bulgarian officers rested together the very day before the treacherous night. the bulgarians smiled and chatted with their serbian colleagues; they spoke about the everlasting brotherhood between the serbian and bulgarian nations; they ate and drank from the same plates and glasses with the serbs, their allies, while the order of the night attack lay in their pockets. it happened nineteen hundred years after a treacherous apostle ate and drank in the same manner with his master. the unnatural ambitions of the bulgars were repudiated by all the balkan nations. therefore the bulgars saw one day against them, not one enemy as they expected, but three. serbs, greeks and roumanians marched together towards sofia. the bulgars asked for peace. in the conference of bucharest, as you remember, the new frontiers of the balkan states were marked. serbia came out from this war victorious, it is true, but with a broken heart, for she had been forced to fight against her ally of yesterday--with a broken heart, with many thousands of her best sons killed and crippled, and with still many more swept away by cholera, which was raging in the summer of . the home of the serbian soul is macedonia. it must have been once a charming country worthy of the great men like philip and alexander, worthy of saint paul's mission to it, worthy of byzantium's effort to save it from the slavs, worthy of all the turkish sacrifices to conquer it, worthy of several serbian kings who gave their lives defending it. it was a rich and beautiful spot on this earth. it was the centre of the serbian mediaeval state and power, the very heart of the serbian glory from the time when the serbs became christians till the tragedy of kossovo, and after this tragedy till the death of king marko of prilep in the beginning of the fifteenth century. even during the time of slavery under the turks, macedonia was the source of all the spiritual and moral inspirations and supports of the enslaved nation. it happened only accidentally that the northern part of serbia, was liberated a hundred years ago while macedonia remained still in chains. in the north, in the dense forests and the mountains around belgrade and kraguievaz, the guerilla war started a great insurrection which succeeded. this guerilla war meant a gradual destruction of the turkish dominions in the whole northern part: in shumadija, bosnia, croatia and dalmatia. but i say the guerilla war in shumadija, around belgrade and kraguievaz, was a success. karageorge liberated a part of the serbian country in the north, and this part was finally recognised by the great powers of europe and called _serbia_. but neither karageorge nor anybody in serbia has forgotten macedonia. macedonia was not only a part of our history, but it has become a part of our soul. the principal and the greater part of our national poetry, which means our shakespeare and which meant our bible, describes serbian macedonia, her heroes, her historic events, her struggle with the turks, her slavery, and her customs and hopes. serbian children know the names of the towns like skoplje, prilep, ochrida, and the heroes' names, urosh, stephen, milutin, dushan, marko and ugljesha, before they learn in the school to write these names. our national poetry is our national education, our education is our soul. macedonia represents a great part of our poetry, which means that she forms a great part of our soul. to say macedonia does not belong to serbia means the same as to say, the serbian soul does not belong to the serbians. could you imagine england without stratford, the birthplace of shakespeare? i don't think you could. so we cannot imagine a serbia without prilep, the source, yea, the birthplace of our national poetry. every people must have some sacred soil in their country, a part more sacred than other parts, which binds them more to their fatherland, which excites their enthusiasm, and which obliges them to defend and to die for it. i was born in northern serbia, in a town which has been very important in our modern history. but i must tell you that it was not valve, my birthplace, which inspired me to be a serb in soul, but rather prilep, skoplje and ochrida, the places where our spirit and our virtues of old flourished, together with kossovo, where our national body was destroyed. valevo has been very little mentioned in our national poetry, valevo and even belgrade, in comparison with macedonia. northern serbia has been in our middle ages more a part of our body than of our soul. but macedonia.... a bulgarian diplomat formerly in rome once ironically told a serbian sculptor in a discussion about macedonia: 'we bulgars know that king marko of prilep is a serbian. well, give us prilep, that is what we want, and keep king marko for yourselves!' that is the true bulgarian spirit. the greeks have understood us better. they have many brothers of their own in monastir and ochrida, and still they recognised the serbian rights in the central and northern parts of macedonia, claiming for themselves only the southern part, and giving to the bulgars the eastern part of it. yet they could claim macedonia not with less rights than the bulgars did. why? because macedonia never was the centre of a greek empire, as it never was the centre of a bulgarian empire. it was a provincial country of the old byzantine empire. it was a country temporarily conquered by the bulgars, the centre of the bulgarian kingdom being tirnovo and its neighbourhood. but it was quite a centre of all the best things that we serbs created and possessed in our past. our national soul cannot live without this part of our national body. i remember a conversation in nish between a french sailor and a serbian writer. the french sailor said: "but you will perish if you do not give macedonia to the bulgars?" the serbian writer replied quietly: "let us perish for the sake of our soul!" an english gentleman asked me the other day: "why have you been obstinate in not yielding macedonia to the bulgars, while we even are ready to yield to the greeks, offering them cyprus?" "yes," i said, "we can well appreciate your sacrifice, but still prilep for us is rather what stratford--and not cyprus--is for you. and even i, not being an englishman, could never agree that you should offer shakespeare's birthplace to anybody in the world." perhaps the bulgars would not have attacked us in this war if we had given macedonia to them, although it is not certain, because the frontiers of their ambitions are in constantinople, salonica and on the adriatic. still serbia could not barter her soul like faust with mephistopheles. five hundred years ago the serbs and greeks defended macedonia from the turkish invasion. in it was serbia with greece again who liberated macedonia from the turkish yoke. bulgaria never defended macedonia from the turks. her first fighting for macedonia was in against serbs, greeks and roumanians. and serbia sacrificed not only many things and many lives for macedonia, but twice even her independence--once five hundred years ago, and for the second time at the present moment. _yes, serbia is now killed because of macedonia._ indeed, all serbia's fighting and suffering have been because of macedonia. she fought against the turks because of macedonia. she fought against the bulgars because of macedonia. and she now is losing her independence because of macedonia. because she could not give macedonia, which means her glory, her history, her poetry, her soul, she is now trodden down and killed. serbia could not live without macedonia. serbia did what she could--she died for macedonia. and if one day, god willing, from this blessed island should sound the trumpet for the resurrection for all the dead, killed by the german sword, i hope serbia will rise from her grave together with macedonia, as one body and one soul. serbia and the world-war. in three years serbia got three decisive victories which attracted attention to her in both hemispheres. she got a decisive victory at kumanovo, against the turks, in . she got the second decisive victory on the bregalniza, against the bulgars, in . she got a third decisive victory at rudnik, against the austrians and magyars, in . but finally she perished, in , under the blow of the allied turks, bulgars, austrians and magyars with their common lord and leader against serbia, the germans. why? "because she caused this world-war. that is a just punishment which she well deserves," so say the germans and their dupes. and saying so, they think of the assassination in sarajevo. a serbian boy killed the crown prince of austria. therefore austria pretended to think that serbia must lose her independence. to punish serbia for the crime in sarajevo, austria sent the famous ultimatum to serbia in the summer of , asking nothing less than what shylock asked from antonio--his life. to punish serbia, germany made an alliance with the bulgars, and sent her troops and her iron--the best product of their culture--to destroy the serbian state, to devastate the serbian country, and to take more than a million of human lives for the life of the austrian crown prince. and this has been done with an unprecedented perfection. and this destructive deed has been praised with eloquent words in all the parliaments, churches, schools and papers all over central europe. we could reply to this german accusation: "did not your greatest national poet, schiller, glorify william tell, who killed gesler, the austrian tyrannous ruler in switzerland? why do you, who adore schiller, and who praise william tell's deed, blame the serbian boy, princip, who did the same thing in killing franz ferdinand, the tyrant of bosnia, his fatherland? and after all, shall a whole nation, which was as surprised by the affair in sarajevo as anyone in the world, be crushed because of the crime of one man? is that the principle of frederick the great, or leasing, or kant and schiller?" the magyars said through their leading men: "serbia must be punished not because of the affair in sarajevo, but because she is making a propaganda to liberate and unite all the southern slav people, which means a great blow for the magyar interests and for the crown of saint stephen." therefore the magyars, rushing into serbia in the first invasion, in august , devastated a northern district of serbia, the district of drina, in such a way that only the bulgars could compete with them. henri barby, the french publicist, has visited this district after the invasion. his description of the magyar atrocities and the original pictures taken on the spot of the crimes committed make one ashamed to be the contemporary of such a nation. we could reply to the magyar accusations: not so much is it that serbia has been making a propaganda to liberate her brothers from your yoke, as that they themselves have made this propaganda. before the crown prince was killed in sarajevo there were several outbursts in agram on the bans of croatia, who were magyar agents and tyrants just as gesler was in switzerland many hundred years ago. all the outbursts and all the tragi-comic high trials in croatia, bosnia and dalmatia, all the successes of the hapsburg monarchy in the south and all the protests prove two things: first, that the southern slavs, serbia's brothers, have suffered and have been abased very much by the magyar's brutal rule, and; second, that they have grown to be free and to live independently from a nation which showed itself very inferior in many respects to the nation ruled by it. the bulgars even mocked the serbs for allying themselves with the "degenerate" french, with the "faithless traders," the english, and with the "barbarians," the russians. they mocked us that we have not been "real" politicians, that we have been stupid and could not foresee the german victory. they accused us even in their declaration of war of being "the felons" who caused the "world's conflagration." and they regarded as their mission to rise "in the name of civilisation" to punish "a criminal nation." we serbs have nothing to reply to this bulgar mockery, since they distinctly claimed that they are not slavs but mongols; since they condemned the english, french and russian civilisations, and declared themselves to be the champions of the true civilisation. i will tell you only how they fulfilled their "mission" in defending the human civilisation from the serbs. i will not speak myself, but i will repeat what a well-known english gentleman reported from salonica: "about five o'clock in the afternoon, while we still waited for orders where to take our guns, we saw coming out of the town towards us a long, straggling procession of serbian soldier prisoners, about , surrounded by a strong escort of infantry. they were of all ages, some young boys of , some old men, bowed of back, with grey in their beards, hungry-looking, ragged, bearing the marks of their long fight in the pass. they shambled along, evidently without any idea as to what their fate was to be, till they came close to where this newly-dug pit lay open. there the command to halt was given, and they stood or sat, surrounded by their guards, for about an hour. "at the end of that time another body of men could be seen coming out of the town. they were bulgarian cavalry, about eighty of them, with a captain in command. at a deliberate walk they came on towards the throng of prisoners and guards at the pit-side. when they were still several hundred yards away, a young serbian soldier evidently grasped what was preparing. making a sudden dart, he sprang through the cordon of guards, and was off, running at a surprising speed. the guards shouted, but their rifles, though with bayonets fixed, were not loaded, and it looked for the moment as if he might get clear away. then the captain of the cavalry troop caught sight of him, turned round in the saddle, and shouted an order to his men. half a dozen spurred their horses, and left the ranks at a gallop. it was a short chase. hearing the thud of the horses' hoofs behind him, the young serbian turned his head for an instant, then ran on faster than before. the galloping cavalry were soon close up with him. as the first man, with a shout, raised his sword, the fugitive doubled like a hare, and was away at right angles. two more horsemen were close behind, though. the first rode him down; the second leaned out of his saddle and pierced him through, as he scrambled to regain his feet. by this time the guards with the rest of the serbians had loaded their rifles, and stood round them in a ring, with levelled bayonets, while, huddled together, their prisoners embraced each other or sank in apathy to the ground. "the cavalry captain rode up to the miserable throng. 'each man will bind the eyes of his neighbour,' he shouted in serbian. they did so. it took a long time, and was a pitiable sight. some young boys were crying. many of the men shouted defiance at the guards, who looked expectantly on, and at the cavalry, whose swords were drawn ready for the butchery. they blindfolded each other with strips torn from their waistcloths, or whatever else they had. 'now kneel down,' came the harsh order, and one by one the victims crouched on the ground. the captain turned again to his troopers. 'start work,' was the order he gave. the infantry guards, still keeping a circle to drive back any who might try to flee, drew off a little to give more room, and passing through the intervals of their line, the bulgar cavalry rode in among the kneeling throng of prisoners at a canter. with yells of cruel delight they pushed to and fro, slashing and thrusting at the unarmed victims. some of the serbians tried to seize the dripping sabre blades in their hands. an arm slashed off at the shoulder would fall from their bodies. others, tearing off the bandages that blindfolded them, attempted to unhorse their executioners, gripping them by the boot to throw them out of the saddle. but even the , though brave, could do nothing against eighty armed men. "i could see the living trying to save themselves, crawling under the little heaps of dead. others rushed towards the line of infantry, surrounding them, as if to break through to safety, but the foot soldiers, intoxicated by the sight of the deliberate bloodshed going on before their eyes, ran to meet them with their bayonets, and thrust them through and through again with savage cries. 'we are doing this in charity,' shouted some of the bulgarians. 'we have no bread to feed you, so if we spared you it would be to die of hunger.' the massacre went on for half an hour. at the end of that time there was little left to kill, and the troopers were tired of cutting and thrusting. a few of them dismounted, and, sword in hand, walked here and there among the bleeding groups of dead, pricking them to see if any still lived. some, though badly wounded, were still alive, but the bulgarian captain did not give time for them all to be finished off, and at his orders the whole pile of murdered prisoners, whether breathing or extinct, were pushed by the infantry into the grave dug earlier in the afternoon, and earth shovelled at once on top of them." [ ] "england betrayed the white race!" so exclaimed the other day herr dernburg, the former german minister for the colonies. why? because england mobilised all the races, including the black and yellow, negroes, indians, maoris and japanese, against the germans. herr dernburg thinks that england has very much damaged european civilisation by so doing. that is a very curious conception of the present world situation. i could reply to herr dernburg's objection: first, the history of mankind does not report that the negroes enslaved anybody and kept him enslaved through a bloody regime five hundred years long as the turks, the german allies, did with the balkan christians. second, i never have been told that the japanese are more barbarous people than the magyars. third, i doubt very strongly that there is any madman in the world who will even try to make a comparison between the noble soul of india and a blood-thirsty subject of ferdinand of coburg. and fourth, if kaiser william with the prussian junkers should govern europe through the superman's philosophy and krupp's industry, let us hurry to open the door of europe as soon as possible for the chinese and japanese, for indians and negroes, and even for all the cannibals, the innocent doves, who need more time to eat up one fellow-man with their teeth than a trained prussian needs to slaughter ten thousand by help of his "kultur." if england is doing anything right she doubtless is doing right in mobilising all the nations, yea, all the human beings upon this planet, cultured or uncultured, civilised or uncivilised, of every colour of skin, of every size, to protest in this or another way against a military and inhuman civilisation which is worse than the most primitive barbarism of man. all the races of the world who are fighting to-day with england against germany may not understand either each other's language or customs, religion or traditions, but they all understand one thing very well, _i.e._ that they must fight together against a nation which despises all other nations and tries to conquer them, to govern them, to suppress their language, their customs, their traditions and their belief in their own worth and mission in this world. only some anecdotes. a serbian detachment from the viith regiment had been ordered one night to cross the river sava to make explorations about the positions and vigilance of the enemy. the soldiers prepared themselves to fulfil their task with silence and depression. the commander of the detachment remarked that and said: "yes, our task is very dangerous, my friends; we may die to-night, but remember that english lords on the battlefield to-night are in danger of death too for the same cause as we." on hearing that the soldiers became cheerful. * * * * * an officer said to his private: "if i should be killed in the battle, don't leave my body here, but carry it to kraguievaz, where my wife is, and bury it there." it happened indeed that the officer was killed. the private asked permission to transfer the body as he was told. the permission was not given. in the night he took the dead body on his back, and after a journey of three nights brought it to kraguievaz and buried it. therefore he was judged by the military court and sentenced to a very heavy punishment. but he showed himself very satisfied, saying: "i did what i was ordered and what i promised to do. now you can sentence me even to death; at least i will not be ashamed in the other world meeting my commander." * * * * * in the offensive against the austrians in december a serbian company found in a trench three magyar soldiers. they laid down their arms. "would you kill them, andrea?" asked the officer of one of his men to prove him. the man replied with astonishment: "marko of prilep never killed a disarmed man" * * * * * a peasant one day dug the ground behind his home. it was after the austrian army had been beaten and repulsed, and the serbian refugees returned home. the peasant was asked: "what are you digging for?" "our tricolours. i put it three weeks ago under the ground. i was afraid the austrians would spit on it, and it means the same as to spit in one's face." * * * * * in the battle on krivolak a serbian was wounded in the chest. he could scarcely breathe. he was sent to the hospital. moving slowly, he came to a spot where he saw a wounded bulgarian lying down among the dead and crying with pain, his legs being broken. the serbian stood thoughtful a minute, then he took the enemy on his back and brought him to the hospital, both very exhausted. he was asked: "why did you take such a burden, since you are a burden to yourself?" he kept silent for a moment and then replied: "you know, sire, i have been shooting with all the others. who knows, perhaps _i_ wounded him." * * * * * "why should not i believe in fate?" an under-officer once asked me. "should somebody relate to me what i am going to tell you, i could not believe it. but it happened to me. once in my boyhood i cut the branches of a tree; a gipsy woman saw me and said: "'don't injure the tree; a tree may once save your life when all your hopes are gone.'" "now, listen! i was taken prisoner by the austrians. in their retreat they let me go with their column. we went through a thick forest. i thought myself lost. all my past life came before my eyes. i remembered the gipsy woman and her advice. i looked around. in a few moments i jumped aside and found myself on the top of a tree. nobody saw me. hours and hours the austrians marched close to my protecting tree. at once two magyar hussars rushed back looking around, evidently searching for me. they went. then came our first advance guard, and i slipped down from the tree and surprised them. is that not fate?" * * * * * typhus fever raged most in valevo, where the austrian troops came first and brought it, a worse enemy of serbia than even the austrians themselves. a serbian women's association in nish held a meeting and consulted a doctor how they could help. "don't go to valevo," advised the doctor. "whoever enters the hospital over there must die." the president, a well-known woman, kept silent, went home, packed her luggage and took the first train for valevo. after two weeks she was brought home infected by typhus, and died soon afterwards. * * * * * a patrician mother fled before the bulgars with two girls. for several days they had nowhere to sleep and nothing to eat. as they reached the rocky frontier of albania, the girls asked the mother: "and now, whither?" the mother smiled and said: "i will give you now the last bit to eat, and then we will go where we will be perfectly safe from enemy and hunger." and she gave to the girls and she herself took--poison. * * * * * in spring the montenegrins took scutari after immense sacrifice of lives. yet they were forced by the great powers through austria's intrigues to leave the very dear town. soon afterwards a serbian from montenegro travelled from cattaro to fiume. an austrian officer saw him in his picturesque costume, and said to him with irony: "you see after all you must yield scutari to us." "yes," replied the montenegrin, "we montenegrins and you austrians are as different as lions and foxes. there are many dens of lions where the foxes creep in and not one den of foxes where you could find a lion." serbia on the islands serbia suffered shipwreck, and her broken pieces are now dispersed all over the islands in the mediterranean. a little island of the serbian refugees is formed in greece, and also in italy, in france, in england and in america. and what happened with the ship of the serbian nation? she plunged to the bottom of a hell of darkness and suffering. the people from the neutral countries coming now from serbia describe serbia as a silent grave, her towns with deserted streets, with plundered or shut-up shops, her villages under a nightmare of starvation. there are only children and women at home, and very soon there will be no more either children or women. the russian and italian prisoners are brought to serbia to make roads, railways and fortifications for serbia's enemies, and all the males from serbia have been taken away--who can divine where? the serbian bishops and priests, and all the leaders of the nation have been carried away too. there are neither leaders nor nation in the serbian country. i don't exaggerate when i say that all the sufferings of poor and sorely stricken belgium is still only a shadow of what serbia sutlers in that dark corner of the world which is called the balkans, far off from all friendly eyes, friendly ears and hearts. yet i will not compare the sufferings of all these nations crucified and martyred by the germans. i will say only that martyred serbia, with montenegro, has been recently ranked among the other martyred nations: poland, belgium and armenia. her cross is very heavy, her wounds very deep, her bleeding deadly. i know, gentlemen, how your generous hearts are now quite open for serbia. but, unfortunately, serbia is now closed to your generosity. between your generosity and serbia's suffering, between your medicaments and her wounds, between your bread and her hunger, there stands a hedge of germano-bulgar bayonets. all that you can do is to save serbia on the islands, and, if possible, to hurry to liberate serbia's country from the darkest slavery in which she was ever plunged. serbia on the islands--it seems so--will be the only population of the future serbia. those who escaped from the germano-bulgar annihilation will be the people who will enter into the promised land, into free serbia. i am sure you will save in time these remnants of the serbian nation, which is now as always the faithful english ally and admirer. i am sure you will give protection to them who have given you, in the time of light and in the time of darkness, their friendship and devotion. by this protection of serbia, as well as of all the little and oppressed nations in europe and asia, you will do more for the glory of your country than by any extension of its frontier or accumulation of riches. serbia suffers and still hopes. serbia's hopes go to god, crossing this island of yours, crossing your hearts and souls, as the bridge between her and god. serbia hopes to be free with all her brothers, who are suffering under the manifold yokes of merciless strangers. _serbia militans_ did every possible thing you expected her to do. she has been for you, not only politically and militantly, correct, but childish, sincere and devout. now she is sitting on your threshold and looking towards you with shining tears in her eyes. and the god of heaven knows serbia and knows england. he waits to see what you are going to do for serbia. who dares to doubt that you, descendants of shakespeare and pitt, of carlyle and gladstone, will show yourself less chivalrous towards the little serbia than serbia has shown herself chivalrous towards you? _i_ dare not doubt it. _part ii_ fragments of serbian national wisdom be as patient as an ox, as brave as a lion, as industrious as a bee, and as cheerful as a bird. help the beggar. he is not a beggar because god cannot feed all his children, but because he placed him as a beggar on the street to test your heart. every penny that you give to a beggar, god counts double as his debt to you. what is the first principle for humanity? some say to eat, others not to eat. some say to speak, others to remain silent. some say to hasten, others to go slowly. some say to work, others to idle. some say to pray, others not to pray. some say to destroy life, and others to preserve it. what, then, is this first principle? it is life and death, and god over both. the moonlight accentuates the silence of the churchyard, the sunshine the clamour of the market-place. by our good works we help god very little, and by our evil deeds we do him no harm. but by our good works we help ourselves, and by our evil deeds we harm ourselves. nevertheless, do good not for your own sake, but for god's, so that your joy may be greater and your determination more lasting. sin is worse than failure. vice is worse than sin. obstinacy in evil is worse than vice. to be a drunkard means making an alliance with satan, to steal means to do satan's work, and to kill means to become satan's slave. whether you go slowly or quickly, death keeps his appointment. there are three kinds of men: first, those who plough and sow with the devil; second, those who plough with the devil and sow with god; and third, those who plough and sow with god. the riddle of life is so mysterious that the more we try to solve it the deeper seems the mystery, but the more we work and pray, the nearer seems the solution. scrutiny magnifies the enigma of life, prayer lessens it. whether righteous or unrighteous, you must die; but if you die righteous you will be mourned, but if unrighteous you will be scoffed at. * * * * * if i see your eyes, i know you a little. if i hear your voice, i know you still more. if i see your actions, i will know you altogether. when christ crucified was contemptuously asked by his executioners why his followers were not trying to avenge him, he answered: "they will not remove your sin by committing one of their own." when st. peter was asked why he would be crucified head down, he answered: "because in leaving this life i wish to look toward heaven, not toward you." a man, asked what two things he did not like, said a worm in the ear and an enemy at the door. a man, asked what things he disliked, said an old bachelor telling love stories of his youth. a hermit, asked what excited his compassion most, said an ox with a thorn in his foot and a man whose feet have never felt the thorn; or a thirsty eagle in a desert and a man who has never felt thirst. there are two brotherhoods among men, that of purity and that of impurity. be as courageous as the days which come and go, even when they know that men are waiting to fill them with impurity. if a man casts clay at the sun, it falls back on his face; if he casts stones against god, they fall on his head. the man who utters lies defiles not only the air, but his own heart. the man who counts gold pieces in the dark has only gold for his sun and is miserable. * * * * * both man and the air are purified by movement. by using our hands we become strong; by using our brains, wise; and by using our hearts, merciful. when the cow lies down to ruminate and a man goes to do evil, the cow is better than the man. when an oak turns towards the sun to enjoy its life, and a man comes with an axe to cut it down, the oak is better than the man. a gold piece lying shining in the dust is better than the man attempting to steal it. life has silken wings, but death uses iron scissors. our disappointments prove only that fate refuses to further our projects in life. * * * * * happiness forgets many, death nobody. life allures us with a full glass, and in the end casts us and the glass together into the grave. life and death are each other's heirs. living, we see the bright side of life and the dark side of death, but afterwards we will see each reversed. as many tears and sighs are caused by life as by death. a man cannot understand his father until he has experienced fatherhood, nor can a woman understand her mother before she herself becomes a mother. our birth is a mingling of pleasure and pain; the pain sanctifies the pleasure. although opposed, the pleasure and the pain lend strength to one another. even the thief pays for what he steals, for in getting an inch of good for his body he loses an inch of his soul. in this life god follows you as your shadow, in the next you will go as god's shadow. seeing, suffering, and death are three teachers of men. seeing makes men wise, suffering makes them wiser, and death makes them wisest of all. the finest music of hearts and stars is heard only in the silence of death. in every humble superstition there is greater beauty than in any vain-glorious wisdom. man's greatest wisdom is nearer the wisdom of the horse than it is to the wisdom of god. our bodies are only bridges over which our souls communicate with one another. our eyes are windows of our souls, hypocrisy is a curtain covering these windows. * * * * * what is death? if you are freezing on a winter night, it is a warm couch. if you are hungry, it is a place where hunger is never felt. if you are persecuted, it is a kind-hearted overlord who welcomes you at the open door. if you are alone and forgotten, it is a hall where your dearest kinsmen are expecting you. if you are a sinner, then it is for you a period of pain and shame. if you are a slave, it is your liberty. * * * * * a slave came daily to a noisy brook and, sitting down, listened in silence. "why do you come every day to me?" asked the brook. "i am condemned to silence by my tyrants, and i come to voice my complaints through your clamorous babbling." a slave listened every night to a nightingale. "why are you listening to me?" said the bird. the answer was: "my ears are denied all day by the curses of my master, and i listen all night to your voice so that my ears may be purified." a slave looked every day towards the clouds. "o man, why do you look at us?" said the clouds. "because," said the slave, "i hope you understand my thought, and will tell them to him to whom you are nearer than i am." * * * * * until a man is a father he looks back to his own father; when he is himself a father he looks forward and loses his father. men with little wisdom have much passion; men with much wisdom have great compassion and little passion. never in prayer try to teach god what he should do for you, but rather ask him what you should do for him. too much light as well as too much darkness causes blindness. construct a better world, and then you may say that this one is bad. when you kill a lion, you can say: "i sinned because i killed my brother." when you kill a man, you can say: "i sinned because i killed myself." if you love god, you cannot fear him; if you fear him, you cannot love him. be humble, for the worst thing in the world is of the same stuff as you; be confident, for the stars are of the same stuff as you. * * * * * when the wind blows, the fool tries to compete by shouting. summer is most loved in winter, and winter in summer. ugliness moves slowly, but beauty is in great haste. god speaks every language except the godless, god grants everything except eternity, god takes back everything but sins. the best thing that the last man on earth can do is just what the first man could do. he can kneel on the earth, his mother, and pray to god, his father. the fool is wisest when he sleeps; the wise man is most foolish when he dances. when young men stand at the bier of an old man, it is pathetic; if old men stand at the bier of a young man, it is grievous; but god sees all and keeps silent. why should you lament? * * * * * if you kill a solitary man, his kinsmen from the other world will persecute you. nobody can forever conceal what is good in you, nor can you yourself conceal what is evil. there is no real death except the death of the soul. there is no real joy except the joy of a righteous man. the joy of the sinner is half joy and half retribution. the eyes are the controller of the tongue. a clever man tells his lies with his eyes closed. what is the news? there is no news but what is half old. it is better to talk about what you know than to talk about what you do not know. he who can love passionately can hate passionately. maternal love is most enduring, a brother's hatred the shortest. there is no harvest without seed. we see often a harvest of evil, the seed of which time has concealed. * * * * * in the life to come all our senses will be doubled and quadrupled, so that when we see we shall see not only with our eyes but with our whole being, and when we hear and when we smell or taste it is the same. thus will it be where the morning sun shines always. we see only the beams of the sun, but the spirits also hear them; we hear the song of the nightingale, but the spirits also see it. in the next world what we now hear we shall see; what we now see we shall hear, and shall taste what we now smell. gold shines, and by shining speaks. how can you understand its language? god does, because he sent its language to the gold. * * * * * what is man? something between god and clay. what is clay? something that god makes. what is god? something of which clay and man are the shadow. it is no wonder that an animal should be selfish, not knowing its end. but it is wonderful that man can be selfish, knowing and foreseeing his end. * * * * * a turk once asked a serb why the serbs wept so much. the serb replied, "to wash away your turkish sins." a turk asked a serb why the serbs reminded people of the field of kossovo. "because," said the serb, "our dead are better than your living." all men are born in an impure state, but only the good reach a state of purity in life and in death. men are unhappy when striving to know all truth, because truth is greater than their life, and for this life only a small part of truth is necessary. a wolf, asked when he would stop killing sheep, replied, "when man stops killing man." the grass in the field, asked if it were not ashamed always to see nothing but the feet of men, replied: "not so much ashamed as men should be when they never see our heads." * * * * * a good custom hallows life and keeps men in brotherly unity. not god, but the prophets make division among men. god likes it more if you think, than if you speak about him. in speaking evil of him you do harm not only to yourself, but to your hearers too. different languages, but the same prayer; different prayers, but the same god. god is the spirit and form-maker; man is only the imitator of the form-maker. a silver piece, asked what it was worth, replied: "if a man could shine as i can, then i am merely worth a man." when the lord speaks you have to be silent; and the lord speaks in the night through the stars, in the day through better men than you. the foolish man speaks much because he has to apologise his foolishness, but why must you speak so much? * * * * * the man who fears customs fears the touch of dead and living. under every success lies a new enemy, the demon of pride. do not despise even the cicadas; their song is the only solace to the slave in prison. among all immoderate things the unrestrained tongue is the most annoying. death is not a punishment for him that dies, but a warning for the living. a long work and a short prayer edifies the house, but a long prayer and a short work destroys it. life without prayer--night without moonlight. god is not hidden, but our eyes are too small to see him. the smile in the sunshine is easy and common; the smile in the stormy weather is beautiful and rare. it is better to go to bed hungry than with a stolen supper in the stomach. * * * * * if you like to get friendship from a man, say only a good word about him in his absence. if you like to pacify a dog, say a good word to his face. life gives to every slave an empty glass to fill it either with tears or with hopes. when god wishes to punish a man he lets him be born among the rough neighbours. the night rebuked the clouds because they were so black. the wolf rebuked the dog because he was so wicked. it is better to be as patient as god than as righteous as god. by true prayer we confess our sins; by false prayer we report our deeds to god. every welcome guest may fail to come, except death, the most unwelcome. the grass asked a cow: "is it right that you eat me and tread on me?" "i don't know," replied the cow; "but tell me: is it right that the grass grows up from the bodies of my parents and will grow up from my own body?" * * * * * solitude is full of god. worldly clamour is godless. in solitude one feels both eternity of time and immensity of space. in worldly clamour one feels eternity and immensity only when death intervenes. the birds think that men cannot understand each other. why should not men think better of birds? the wise man feels god most in the silence of night; the child most in the crash of lightnings and in the rolling waters. three persons rushed the same way: a child, a learned man and a poor man. "where to?" asked the angel. "to grow old quickly and to see god," said the child. "to acquire profit and learning, and to know god," said the learned man. "to become rich and to serve god," said the poor man. the angel said: "if the clear eyes of a child cannot see god, how can the dim eye of passionate man see him? "if the simple mind of the unlearned man cannot know god, how can the bewildered mind of a learned man know him? "if a poor man cannot serve god with his heart, how can a rich one serve him with gold?" * * * * * if you marry, you will repent; if you do not marry, you will likewise repent. we never repent our brutality as much as our vulgarity. in being brutal we are equal to animals, but in being vulgar we are below them. when two blind men sit quarrelling about what is light, they are like two men quarrelling about what is god. a bird speaks and you do not understand, but god does, for it speaks his language. a lion speaks and you do not understand, but god does. the lion speaks his language. a brook speaks, and you stand on the bank and do not understand it, but god does. he made the brook's language. an oak speaks, and you wonder what it may say, but god does not wonder. he made the oak's language. * * * * * the devil has hopes as a man has, for he hopes that at the end god will listen to him, and the man hopes that at the end all men will listen to god. every murder means also partly a suicide. if you oppose a boastful man, he will believe his own words and hate you. if you listen to him silently and go from him silently, he will feel himself punished, and will follow you and ask you, if you believed his words. what represents a boastful man? poverty in spirit or in heart and wealth in words. the universe is too big for you to ask it to serve you, and you are too little to hope to change it. blood binds men with a thread, but love binds them with a metal band. the bonds of blood hold longer, the bonds of love hold stronger. easier it is for the sun to hate its own light than for a mother to hate her own son. * * * * * when men are quarrelling about the land, god is standing among them and whispering: "i am the proprietor!" god may be either accompanying or pursuing you. it depends upon you. a lake at the foot of a mountain is a mirror for the mountain; just so is the past a mirror for mankind. a pine-tree looks towards heaven expecting with confidence rain, snow, or light. you can protect yourself from rain, snow and light, but there is no roof to protect you from death. our life is obscure, our death is obscure; god is the only light of both. our body is fragile, our soul is fragile; god is the only strength of both. our works are dust, our hopes are dust; god only makes both enduring. from three sides god encircles us; he remains behind us in the past, he is with us in the present, and he awaits us in the future. * * * * * death relieves a rich man more than a poor one, for from the poor man it takes only life, while from the rich it takes both life and fortune. if you cannot admire the animal's dull life, you must at least admire its noiseless death. the sea, when asked why it roared, replied: "to show men how petty their noisy quarrels are." an oak, when asked in what way it thought oaks superior to men, said: "we oaks are more decent in taking our food, for we hide our mouths and eat only in the darkness under the earth." a raven, when asked the difference between the flesh of an innocent man and a wicked one, replied: "the flesh of an innocent man supports my life, but the flesh of a wicked man is difficult for me to find." a dog knows the world by smell, a wolf by appetite, a bird by hearing, a worm by tasting, and a man by seeing. are you afraid to touch the unclean man? the sun which is purer than you is not afraid. except his soul, there is nothing in man which can be saved from corruption. a little dog said to a wolf: "don't eat me now; when my teeth have grown, i will be sweeter for you." a calf said to the cow, its mother, who wore a heavy yoke: "you are old enough not to be so stupid as to wear a yoke." "wait a little," replied the cow, "and by degrees you will take my burden, if you should not be roast meat sooner." * * * * * what is it to be a gentleman? to be the first to thank, and the last to complain. the words "thank you" show that life is founded on injustice. death is the cleverest thief. he can steal a living man who is surrounded by the most formidable guard. the water shines because the sun shines. gold shines because the sun shines. snow shines because the sun shines. the sun shines because god shines, and he shines because he is god. * * * * * every tear is not a sign of distress; every smile is not a sign of joy. wine and beauty can both intoxicate, but without passion neither can cause real intoxication. death and passion are only different temperatures of man. we can change the temperature of passion, but god only can change the temperature of death. copper is fine, but gold is finer. gold is fine, but the air is finer. the air is fine, but the spirit is finer. the spirit is fine, but god is finer. one can live without copper, but not without gold. one can live without gold, but not without air. one can live without air, but not without spirit. one can live without spirit, but not without god. many people sing, but few are singers. many people write, but few are writers. many people speak, but few are orators. many people think, but few are thinkers. many people pray, but few are religious. many people smile, but few are happy. many people hope, but few are not disappointed. many people die, but few will survive. * * * * * sweetness and bitterness are enemies, but both are necessary in this world. light and darkness are enemies, but both are necessary. poison may do no harm if used properly; nor is darkness harmful if it comes and goes at due times. it is better that your good deed should be forgotten than that your evil deed should make you famous. you will begin to be a good man when you prefer anonymity to false fame. if you offend a mother, remember that her son will be angry with you, and you will understand him because you are a son too. if you offend a girl, remember that her brother will be angry with you, and you will understand because you are a brother too. if you hate a man, remember that there is a woman who does better than that, for he had a mother who loves him. can you not equal a woman? god and a mother asked each other the same question: "how long will you continue to forgive your children?" * * * * * a man is like a drop of water, but mankind is like the ocean. a drop of water cannot endure a look of the sun, but the ocean bears iron and lead. a man is like one blade of grass. mankind is like a meadow. a traveller going along does not see the blade, but the meadow rejoices his sight. a man's life is not one man's life, but is the life of mankind so closely interwoven that it resembles the carpet covering the floor of a room. things happen to-day, the cause of which began yesterday; but things also happen to-day, the cause of which date from the beginning of the world. man grows old, but not the world. man dies, but the world cannot. the world cannot die, because it is in touch with god, and therefore is immortal. not everything is in touch with god, nor yet with the sun. everything is affected by the sun directly or indirectly, and the same is true of god. the best things are a bridge between god and the world, but god only knows what the best things are. cold makes darkness deeper, just as darkness makes cold more intense. the progress of the heart is slower than the progress of the brain. * * * * * a serpent lives in the water, but the water is not poisonous; if your tongue is poisonous, keep the mouth closed so as not to poison the air. giving is pleasanter than receiving. a king boasted that he would rule all the earth, but the sun looking down upon him could not distinguish him from the clay on which he stood. that man is my friend who lives laboriously like the bee and dies quietly like the grass. when wolves and sheep are brothers, what will the wolves eat? lift up your hearts to heaven. the foulest water is purified when it is lifted to the clouds of heaven. the greatest pain should not be the subject of speech. the headache is worse than a pain in the hand, a toothache than a headache, crucifixion than toothache, and hopeless slavery than crucifixion. a gipsy, asked what pain is greatest, said: "to be hungry and to see bread before the householder's dog." a mother, asked what pain is greatest, said: "to see a snake coming from the grave of one's child." a man, asked what three things he did not like, said: "to be compelled to cut down the tree planted by his own hands, to be on the watch for a blow, and to go hunting with a deaf man." * * * * * economise in speaking, but not in thinking. only an oath to do evil may you break with god's permission. if you have fixed to-morrow as a day for revenge, do not sleep but talk with death, and see if it were not better to postpone your vengeance. if you help a beggar, you wipe out the fault of your ancestors. when will the world become better? when the ass stops competing with the nightingale. when will the world become better? when men build two bridges--one to god and one to nature--and when rich men learn to consider themselves great debtors to god. god is more silent than silence in observing sins, and more audible than a cart in punishing them. god and sinners wish to annihilate one another. a turk asked a serb what there would be at the end. the answer was: "i know not what there will be, but i know what there will not be--there will not be turkish dominion over serbia." the imitator remains in the shadow of him whom he imitates. the imitated lives in the sunshine, but the imitator remains always in shadow. part iii fragments of serbian popular poetry jakshich's partitioning. hark! the moon is to the day-star calling: "morning star! say, where hast thou been wandering; tell me where thou hast so long been lingering; where hast white days three so wasted,--tell me?" to the moon, anon, the day-star answer'd: "i have wander'd, moon! and i have linger'd, lingered o'er belgrad's white towers, and wondered at the marvellous things which i have witnessed: how two brothers have their wealth partitioned, jakshich dmitar and jakshich bogdana. they had thus arranged the shares allotted, well their father's substance had divided: dmitar took wallachia[ ] for his portion, took wallachia and entire moldavia;[ ] banat also, to the river danube. bogdan took the level plains of sermia, and the even country of the sava; servia, too, as far as ujitz's fortress. dmitar took the lower fortress'd cities, and neboisha's tower upon the danube; bogdan took the upper fortress'd cities, and the church-possessing town, rujitza. then a strife arose about a trifle,-- such a trifle; but a feud soon follow'd,-- a black courser and a grey-wing'd falcon! dmitar claims the steed, as elder brother claims the steed, and claims the grey-wing'd falcon. bogdan will not yield or horse or falcon. when the morning of the morrow waken'd, dmitar flung him on the sable courser, took upon his hand the grey-wing'd falcon, went to hunt into the mountain forest; and he called his wife, fair angelia: 'angelia! thou my faithful lady! kill with poison thou my brother bogdan; but if thou refuse to kill my brother, tarry thou in my white court no longer." when the lady heard her lord's commandments, down she sat all sorrowful and gloomy; to herself she thought, and said in silence, --'and shall i attempt it?--i, poor cuckoo! shall i kill my brother--kill with poison!-- 'twere a monstrous crime before high heaven, 'twere a sin and shame before my people. great and small would point their fingers at me, saying,--'that is the unhappy woman, that is she who kill'd her husband's brother!' but if i refuse to poison bogdan, never will my husband come to bless me!' thus she thought, until a thought relieved her; she descended to the castle's cavern, took the consecrated cup of blessing. 'twas a cup of beaten gold her father had bestow'd upon his daughter's nuptials; full of golden wine she fill'd the vessel, and she bore it to her brother bogdan. low to earth she bow'd herself before him, and she kiss'd his hands and garments meekly. 'lo! i bring to thee this cup, my brother! this gold cup, with golden wine o'erflowing. give me for my cup a horse and falcon.' bogdan heard the lady speak complacent, and most cheerfully gave steed and falcon. meanwhile through the day was dmitar wandering in the mountain-forest; nought he found there; but chance brought him at the fall of evening to a green lake far within the forest, where a golden-pinion'd duck was swimming. dmitar loosen'd then his grey-wing'd falcon, bade him seize the golden-pinion'd swimmer. faster than the hunter's eye could follow, lo! the duck had seized the grey-wing'd falcon, and against his sides had crush'd his pinion. soon as dmitar jakshich saw, he stripp'd him, stripp'd him swiftly of his hunting garments;-- speedily into the lake he plung'd him, and he bore his falcon from its waters. then with pitying voice he ask'd his falcon: 'hast thou courage yet, my faithful falcon! now thy wings are from thy body riven?' whispering, said the falcon to his master: 'i without my pinions nought resemble, but a brother riven from a brother.' then the thought pierced through the breast of dmitar, that his wife was charged to kill his brother. swift he threw him on his mighty courser-- swift he hurried to bijögrad's[ ] fortress, praying that his brother had not perish'd. he had hardly reached the bridge of chekmel,[ ] when he spurr'd his raven steed so fiercely that the impetuous courser's feet sank under, and were crushed and broken on the pavement. in his deep perplexity and trouble, dmitar took the saddle off his courser, flung it on the courser's nether haunches, and he fled alone to belgrad's fortress. first he sought, impatient, for his lady-- 'angelia! thou my bride all faithful! tell me, tell me, hast thou kill'd my brother?' sweet indeed was angelia's answer: 'no! indeed i have not killed thy brother; to thy brother have i reconciled thee.'" jelitza and her brothers. nine fair sons possessed a happy mother; and the tenth, the loveliest and the latest, was jelitza,--a beloved daughter. they had grown together up to manhood, till the sons were ripe for bridal altars, and the maid was ready for betrothing. many a lover asked the maid in marriage; first a ban;[ ] a chieftain was the other; and the third, a neighbour from her village. so her mother for the neighbour pleaded; for the far-off dwelling ban her brothers. thus they urged it to their lovely sister: "go, we pray thee, our beloved sister, with the ban across the distant waters: go! thy brothers oft will hasten to thee; every month of every year will seek thee; every week of every month will seek thee." so the maiden listened to her brothers, with the ban she crossed the distant waters: but, behold! o melancholy marvel! god sent down the plague, and all the brothers. all the nine, were swept away, and lonely stood their miserable sonless mother. three long years had pass'd away unheeded; often had jelitza sighed in silence: "heaven of mercy! 'tis indeed a marvel! have i sinn'd against them?--that my brothers, spite of all their vows, come never near me." then did her stepsisters scorn and jeer her: "cast away! thy brothers must despise thee! never have they come to greet their sister." bitter was the sorrow of jelitza, bitter from the morning to the evening, till the god of heaven took pity on her, and he summon'd two celestial angels: "hasten down to earth," he said, "my angels! to the white grave, where jovan is sleeping,-- young jovan, the maiden's youngest brother. breathe your spirit into him; and fashion from the white grave-stone a steed to bear him: from the mouldering earth his food prepare him: let him take his grave shroud for a present! then equip and send him to his sister." swiftly hasten'd god's celestial angels to the white grave where jovan was sleeping. from the white grave-stone a steed they fashion'd; into his dead corpse they breathed their spirit; from the ready earth the bread they moulded; for a present his grave-shroud they folded; and equipp'd, and bade him seek his sister. swiftly rode jovan to greet his sister. long before he had approach'd her dwelling, far, far off his sister saw and hail'd him; hastened to him--threw her on his bosom, loosed his vest, and stamp'd his cheeks with kisses. then she sobb'd with bitterness and anguish, then she wept, and thus address'd her brother: "o! jovan! to me--to me, a maiden, thou, and all my brothers, all, ye promised oft and oft to seek your distant sister: every month in every year to seek her,-- every week in every month to seek her. three long years have sped away unheeded, and ye have not sought me"--for a moment she was silent; and then said, "my brother! thou art deadly pale! why look so deadly pale, as if in death thou hadst been sleeping?" but jovan thus check'd his sister: "silence, silence, sister! as in god thou trustest; for a heavy sorrow has o'erta'en me. when eight brothers had prepared their nuptials, eight stepsisters ready to espouse them, hardly was the marriage service ended ere we built us eight white dwellings, sister! therefore do i look so dark, jelitza." three white days had pass'd away unheeded, and the maid equipp'd her for a journey. many a costly present she provided for her brothers and her bridal sisters: for her brothers, fairest silken vestments; for her bridal-sisters, rings and jewels. but jovan would fain detain her--"go not, go not now, i pray thee--my jelitza! wait until thy brothers come and greet thee." but she would not listen to her brother: she prepared the costliest, fairest presents. so the young jovan began his journey, and his sister travell'd patient by him. so as they approach'd their mother's dwelling, near the house a tall white church was standing, young jovan he whispered to his sister-- "stop, i pray thee, my beloved sister! let me enter the white church an instant. when my middle brother here was married, lo! i lost a golden ring, my sister! let me go an instant--i shall find it." jovan went--into his grave he glided-- and jelitza stood--she stood impatient-- wondering--wondering--but in vain she waited. then she left the spot to seek her brother. many and many a grave was in the churchyard newly made--jovan was nowhere--sighing, on she hasten'd--hasten'd to the city, saw her mother's dwelling, and press'd forward eager to that old white dwelling. listen to that cuckoo's cry within the dwelling! lo! it was not the gray cuckoo's crying-- 'twas her aged, her gray-headed mother. to the door jelitza press'd--outstretching her white neck, she call'd--"make ope, my mother! hasten to make ope the door, my mother!" but her mother to her cry made answer: "plague of god! avaunt! my sons have perish'd-- all--all nine have perish'd--wilt thou also, take their aged mother!" then jelitza shriek'd, "o open--open, dearest mother! i am not god's plague--i am thy daughter. thine own daughter--thy jelitza, mother!" then the mother push'd the door wide open, and she scream'd aloud, and groan'd, and flung her old arms round her daughter--all was silent-- stiff and dead they fell to earth together. the holy nicholas. god of mercy! what a wond'rous wonder! such a wonder ne'er before was witness'd. in saint paul's--within the holy cloister, gather'd round a golden table, seated in three ranks, the saints are all collected; o'er them sits the thunderer elias;[ ] in the midst are sava and maria; at the ends are petka and nedelia; and their health the holy nicholas pledges. pledges them their health to jesus' glory.[ ] but behold, behold the saint!--he slumbers; from his hand the cup of wine has fallen, fallen from it on the golden table: yet the wine's unspilt,--the cup unbroken. then laughed out the thunderer elias: "o my brother! o thou holy nicholas: often drank we cooling wine together; but it was our duty not to slumber. not to drop the cup--and tell me, brother, why to-day does slumber's power subdue thee?" him thus answer'd nicholas the holy: "jest not thus with me, thou sainted thunderer! for i fell asleep, and dreamt three hundred, dreamt three hundred friars had embark'd them in one vessel on the azure ocean; bearing offerings to the holy mountain, offerings,--golden wax, and snowy incense. from the clouds there broke a furious tempest, lash'd the blue waves of the trembling ocean, scooping watery graves for all the friars. then i heard their blended voices call me, 'help, o god! and help, o holy nicholas! would that thou, where'er thou art, wert with us!' so i hurried down to help the suppliants-- so i saved the whole three hundred friars so i shipped them full of joy and courage; brought their offerings to the holy mountain, brought their golden wax, their snowy incense;-- and meanwhile i seem'd in gentle slumber, and my cup fell on the golden table." the maiden and the sun. a maiden proudly thus the sun accosted: "sun! i am fairer than thou,--far fairer; fairer than is thy sister[ ] or thy brethren,-- fairer than yon bright moon at midnight shining, fairer than yon gay star in heav'n's arch twinkling, that star, all other stars preceding proudly, as walks before his sheep the careful shepherd." the sun complain'd to god of such an insult: "what shall be done with this presumptuous maiden?" and to the sun god gave a speedy answer: "thou glorious sun! thou my beloved daughter![ ] be joyous yet! say, why art thou dejected? wilt thou reward the maiden for her folly-- shine on, and burn the maiden's snowy forehead. but i a gloomier dowry yet will give her; evil to her shall be her husband's brother; evil to her shall be her husband's father. then shall she think upon the affront she gave thee." frozen heart. thick fell the snow upon st. george's day; the little birds all left their cloudy bed; the maiden wander'd bare-foot on her way; her brother bore her sandals, and he said: "o sister mine! cold, cold thy feet must be." "no! not my feet, sweet brother! not my feet-- but my poor heart is cold with misery. there's nought to chill me in the snowy sleet: my mother--'tis my mother who hath chill'd me, bound me to one who with disgust hath fill'd me." liberty. nightingale sings sweetly in the verdant forest: in the verdant forest, on the slender branches. thither came three sportsmen, nightingale to shoot at. she implored the sportsmen, "shoot me not, ye sportsmen! "shoot me not, ye sportsmen! i will give you music, in the verdant garden, on the crimson rose-tree." but the sportsmen seize her; they deceive the songster, in a cage confine her, give her to their loved one. nightingale will sing not-- hangs its head in silence: then the sportsmen bear her to the verdant forests. soon her song is waken'd; woe! woe! woe betide us, friend from friend divided, bird from forest banish'd! brotherless sisters. two solitary sisters, who a brother's fondness never knew, agreed, poor girls, with one another, that they would make themselves a brother: they cut them silk, as snow-drops white; and silk, as richest rubies bright; they carved his body from a bough of box-tree from the mountain's brow; two jewels dark for eyes they gave; for eyebrows, from the ocean's wave they took two leeches; and for teeth fix'd pearls above, and pearls beneath; for food they gave him honey sweet, and said, "now live, and speak, and eat." printed by robert maclehose and co. ltd., at the university press glasgow, great britain. photos [illustration: king peter.] [illustration: crown prince alexander] [illustration: premier n.???] [illustration: king the fourteenth century] [illustration] [illustration: during turkish rule in serbia. serbs?? away?? the????] [illustration: ???] [illustration: the second serbian revolution of .] [illustration: the monastery of kalenic. built by stephen the tall.] [illustration: serbian soldiers with an english nurse.] [illustration: serbian officers under adrianople in .] [illustration: the cattle market.] [illustration:] [illustration: a typical montenegrin lady: h.m. queen milena.] [illustration: peasant types.] [illustration: the superior of a monastery.] [illustration: king peter: "how did it happen, general, that you turks lost the battle on kumanovo?" the turkish general: "kismet!"] [illustration: _photo-underwood and underwood_ women doing the work of men.] [illustration: serbian women carrying wounded. _from photograph by kind permission of mr. crawford price._] [illustration: waiting for a place at the hospital.] [illustration: "my mother" sculptor: t. mestovic] [illustration: spliet-spalato.] [illustration:] [illustration: dubrovnic ragusa] footnotes: [footnote : this lecture was delivered in december, .] [footnote : the archbishop of canterbury, _the character and call of the church of england_, p. .] [footnote : stanley lane-poole, turkey, p. .] [footnote : _daily telegraph_, th february.] [footnote : kavavlashka.] [footnote : karabogdanska. _the above and following poems are taken from john bowring: serbian popular poetry_. london, .] [footnote : belgrad.] [footnote : chekmel-juprija.] [footnote : _ban_, a title frequently used in servia. its general acceptation is governor. it may be derived from _pan_, the old slavonic for _lord_.] [footnote : gromovnik daja.] [footnote : i napij, i u slavu ristovn.] [footnote : _svezdá_, star, is of the feminine gender.] [footnote : _sun_ is feminine in servian.] twenty years of balkan tangle by m. edith durham. author of the burden of the balkans, high albania, the struggle for scutari, etc. london: george allen & unwin ltd. ruskin house, museum street, w.c. first published (all rights reserved) preface "and let men beware how they neglect and suffer matter of trouble to be prepared; for no man can forbid the sparke nor tell whence it come." bacon. mine is but a tale of small straws; but of small straws carefully collected. and small straws show whence the wind blows. there are currents and cross currents which may make a whirlwind. for this reason the tale of the plots and counterplots through which i lived in my many years of balkan travel, seems worth the telling. events which were incomprehensible at the time have since been illumined by later developments, and i myself am surprised to find how accurately small facts noted in my diaries, fit in with official revelations. every detail, every new point of view, may help the future history in calmer days than these, to a just understanding of the world catastrophe. it is with this hope that i record the main facts of the scenes i witnessed and in which i sometimes played a part. m. e. durham. contents preface chapter . picking up the threads chapter . montenegro and her rulers chapter . first impressions of land and people chapter . serbia and the way there chapter . what was behind it all chapter . the great serbian idea chapter . and what happened chapter . macedonia - chapter . albania chapter . murder will out chapter . chapter . bosnia and the herzegovina chapter . bosnia in . the plot thickens chapter . chapter . : a fateful year chapter . . chapter . chapter . and the insurrection of the catholics chapter . . the first drops of the thunderstorm chapter . . chapter . the years of the war index. twenty years of balkan tangle chapter one picking up the threads it was in cetinje in august, , that i first picked up a thread of the balkan tangle, little thinking how deeply enmeshed i should later become, and still less how this tangle would ultimately affect the whole world. chance, or the fates, took me near eastward. completely exhausted by constant attendance on an invalid relative, the future stretched before me as endless years of grey monotony, and escape seemed hopeless. the doctor who insisted upon my having two months' holiday every year was kinder than he knew. "take them in quite a new place," he said. "get right away no matter where, so long as the change is complete." along with a friend i boarded an austrian lloyd steamer at trieste, and with high hopes but weakened health, started for the ports of the eastern adriatic. threading the maze of mauve islets set in that incomparably blue and dazzling sea; touching every day at ancient towns where strange tongues were spoken and yet stranger garments worn, i began to feel that life after all might be worth living and the fascination of the near east took hold of me. a british consul, bound to asia minor, leaned over the bulwark and drew a long breath of satisfaction. "we are in the east!" he said. "can't you smell it? i feel i am going home. you are in the east so soon as you cross adria." he added tentatively: "people don't understand. when you go back to england they say, 'how glad you must be to get home!' they made me spend most of my leave on a house-boat on the thames, and of all the infernal things. ... "i laughed. i did not care if i never saw england again. . . . "you won't ever go back again now, will you?" he asked whimsically, after learning whence i came. "i must," said i, sadly. "oh don't," said he; "tell them you can't, and just wander about the east." he transshipped shortly and disappeared, one of many passing travellers with whom one is for a few moments on common ground. our voyage ended at cattaro and there every one, baedeker included, said it was correct to drive up to cetinje. then you could drive down next day and be able to say ever afterwards, "i have travelled in montenegro." it was in cetinje that it was borne in on me that i had found the "quite new place" which i sought. thus fate led me to the balkans. cetinje then was a mere red-roofed village conspicuous on the mountain-ringed plain. its cottages were but one storeyed for the most part, and contained some three thousand inhabitants. one big building stood up on the left of the road as the traveller entered. "no. that is not the palace of the prince," said the driver. "it is the austro-hungarian legation." austria had started the great legation building competition which occupied the great powers for the next few years. each power strove to erect a mansion in proportion to the amount of "influence" it sought to obtain in this "sphere." russia at once followed. then came italy, with france hard on her heels. england, it is interesting to note, started last; by way of economizing bought an old house, added, tinkered and finally at great expense rebuilt nearly the whole of it and got it quite done just before the outbreak of the great war, when it was beginning to be doubtful if montenegro would ever again require a british legation. but this is anticipating. in most of the foreign ministers plenipotentiary dwelt in cottages or parlour-boarded at the grand hotel, the focus of civilization, where they dined together at the round table of cetinje, presided over by monsieur piguet, the swiss tutor of the young princes; a truly tactful man whom i have observed to calm a heated altercation between two great powers by switching off the conversation from such a delicate question as: "which legation has the finest flag, france or italy?" to something of international interest such as: "which washer-woman in cetinje gets up shirt fronts best?" for ministers plenipotentiary, when not artificially inflated with the importance of the land they represent, are quite like ordinary human beings. their number and variety caused me to ask: "but why are so many powers represented in such a hole of a place?" and the italian architect who was designing the russian legation replied, more truly than he was perhaps aware: "because montenegro is the matchbox upon which the next european war will be lighted!" cetinje was then extraordinarily picturesque. the prince did all he could to emphasize nationality. national dress was worn by all. so fine was the court dress of montenegro that oddly enough prince nikola was about the only ruling sovereign in europe who really looked like one. the inroads of cook's tourists had stopped his former custom of hobnobbing with visitors, and he dodged with dignity and skill the attempts of american snapshotters to corner him and say: "how do, prince!" a vivid picture remains in my mind of the royal family as it filed out of church on the feast of the assumption of the virgin. the prince, heavy-built, imposing, gorgeous; his hair iron grey, ruddy-faced, hook-nosed, keen-eyed. danilo, his heir, crimped, oiled and self-conscious, in no respect a chip of the old block, who had married the previous year, jutta, daughter of the grand duke of mecklenburg strelitz, who, on her reception into the orthodox church, took the name of militza. montenegro was still excited about the wedding. she looked dazzlingly fair among her dark "in-laws." old princess milena came, stately and handsome, her hair, still black, crowning her head with a huge plait. prince mirko, the second son, was still a slim and good looking youth. petar, the youngest, a mere child, mounted a little white pony and galloped past in the full dress of an officer, reining up and saluting with a tiny sword as he passed his father. the crowd roared applause. it was all more like a fairy tale than real life. but the black coated ministers plenipotentiary were all quite real. from cetinje we went to podgoritza where for the first time i saw albanians. podgoritza was full of them, all in national dress, for montenegro had as yet done little towards suppressing this. nor in this first visit did i go further inland. but i had found "the land where i could have a complete change"; had learnt, too, of the great serbian idea; had had the meaning of the montenegrin cap explained to me; and been told how the reconstruction of the great serb empire of the middle ages was what montenegro lived for. also that the first step in that direction must be the taking of the sanjak of novibazar, which had been formed as a barrier between the two branches of the serb race by the powers at the berlin congress. to me it sounded then fantastic--operatic. i had yet to learn that the opera bouffe of the balkans is written in blood and that those who are dead when the curtain falls, never come to life again. so much for montenegro. we returned after a run to trebinje, serajevo and mostar, to the dalmatian coast and trieste. first impressions are vivid. there is a certain interest in the fact that i recorded spalato in my diary as the first slav town on our way south from trieste and that my letter thence was dated spljet, the slav form of the name. the one pre-eminently italian town of dalmatia is zara. from zara south, the language becomes more and more slav. but the slav speaking peasants that flock to market are by no means the same in physical type as the south slavs of the bosnian hinterland. it is obvious that they are of other blood. they are known as morlachs, that is sea vlachs, and historically are in all probability descendants of the pre-slav native population which, together with the roman colonists, fled coast ward before the inrush of the slav invaders of the seventh century. latin culture clung along the coast and was reinforced later by the venetians. and a latin dialect was spoken until recent times, dying out on the island of veglio at the end of the nineteenth century. the slavizing process which has steadily gone on is due, partly to natural pressure coastward of the slav masses of the hinterland and partly to artificial means. austria, who ever since the break-up of the holy roman empire, had recognized italy as a possible danger, had mitigated this by drawing italy into the triple alliance. but she was well aware that fear of france, not love of austria, made italy take this step. therefore to reduce the danger of a strong italia irredenta on the east of adria she encouraged atavism against italianism, regarding the ignorant and incoherent slavs as less dangerous than the industrious and scientific italians. similarly, england decided that the half-barbarous russians were less likely to be commercial rivals than the industrious and scientific germans, and sided with russia. future historians will judge the wisdom of these decisions. during the fourteen years in which i went up and down the coast, the slavizing process in dalmatia visibly progressed, until the german-austrians began to realize that they were "warming a viper," and to feel nervous. almost yearly there were more zones in which no photographs might be taken and more forts were built. having picked up the thread of the balkans the next thing was to learn a balkan language, for in scarcely a soul in montenegro spoke aught but serb. nor was any dictionary of the language to be bought at cetinje. the one bookshop of montenegro was carefully supervised by the prince, who saw to it that the people should read nothing likely to disturb their ideas, and the literature obtainable was mainly old national ballads and the poetical works of the prince and his father, grand voy voda mirko. in london in it was nearly impossible to find a teacher of serb, and a new testament from the bible society was the only book available. finally a pole--a political refugee from russia and a student of all slav languages--undertook to teach me. english he knew none, and but little german and had been but a few weeks in england. i asked for his first impressions. his reply was unexpected. what surprised him most was that the english thought russia a great power and were even afraid of her. i explained that russia was a monster ready to spring on our indian frontier--that she possessed untold wealth and countless hordes. he laughed scornfully. in halting german he said "russia is nothing--nothing. the wealth is underground. they have not the sense to get it. their army is large, but it is rotten. all russia is rotten. if there is a war the russian army will be--will be--" he stammered for a word--"will be like this!" he snatched up a piece of waste paper, crumpled it and flung it contemptuously into the waste paper basket. i never forgot the gesture. later, when folk foretold japan's certain defeat if she tackled the monster, and in talked crazily of "the russian steam-roller" i saw only that crumpled rag of paper flying into the basket. by that time i had seen too much of the slav to trust him in any capacity. but this is anticipating. chapter two montenegro and her rulers in days of old the priest was king, obedient to his nod, man rushed to slay his brother man as sacrifice to god. the events seen by the casual traveller are meaningless if he knows not what went before. they are mere sentences from the middle of a book he has not read. before going further we must therefore tell briefly of montenegro's past. it is indeed a key to many of the near eastern problems, for here in little, we see the century-old "pull devil-pull baker" tug between austria and russia, teuton and slav, for dominion. in , montenegro, which was about the size of yorkshire, consisted of some thirty plemena or tribes. a small core, mainly cetinaajes, nyegushi, rijeka and kchevo formed old montenegro. to this was added the brda group, which joined montenegro voluntarily in the eighteenth century, in order to fight against the turks. these are mainly of albanian blood and were all roman catholics at the time of their annexation, but have since been converted to the orthodox church and slavized. it is noteworthy that they are now strenuously resisting annexation by serbia. thirdly, came the extensive lands, some of them wholly albanian, annexed to montenegro in under the treaty of berlin, much of which, in spite of the efforts of the montenegrin government, is by no means slavized. certain other small districts have also from time to time been joined to montenegro at different times, e.g. grahovo. each of the montenegrin tribes has a distinct tradition of origin from an individual or family. they tell almost invariably of immigration into their present site in the fifteenth or sixteenth century. thus nyegushi in told me of descent from two brothers jerak and raiko, who fled from nyegushi in the herzegovina fourteen generations ago. the royal family, the petrovitches, traces descent from jerak. if we take thirty years as a generation this gives us . the turks had then begun to overrun bosnia and the herzegovina. ivan tsrnoievitch, chief of the tribes of the zeta, was so hard pressed by the oncoming turks that he burnt his capital of zhablyak and withdrew to the mountains, where he founded cetinje in . tradition thus corresponds closely with historic fact. the strength of turkish influence is shown by the fact that even to-day the peasant speaks of ivan as ivan beg. the oft-repeated tale that montenegro was founded by the refugees from kosovo is thus we see mythical, as kosovo was fought a century earlier in . lineally, the montenegrins are bosnians, herzegovinians and albanians rather than serbs of serbia. bosnia and the herzegovina were independent of the old kingdom of serbia, which explains much of the reluctance of montenegro to be to-day incorporated by the serbs. ivan and his refugee tribes successfully resisted the turkish attacks on their stronghold and were helped by venice. but conversions to islam became frequent. one of ivan's own sons turned turk and fought against montenegro. finally, the last of the trsnoievitch line, ivan ii, who had married a venetian wife, decided that the leadership of a band of outlaws in the poverty-stricken mountains was not good enough. he retired to the fleshpots of venice, trusting the defence of the district to a civil, hereditary leader and charging the vladika [bishop] with the duty of preventing ore of his flock going over to islam, as the serbs of bosnia were now doing in great numbers. it has been inaccurately represented that montenegro was singular in being ruled by her bishop. in this respect montenegro in no way differed from other christian districts ruled by the turks who, with a tolerance at that date rare, recognized everywhere the religion of the country and entrusted all the affairs of the christians to their own ecclesiastics. to the turks, the montenegrin tribes and the albanian tribes of the mountains--who had also their own bishops --were but insubordinate tribes against whom they sent punitive expeditions when taxes were in arrears and raids became intolerable. the montenegrins descended from their natural fortress and plundered the fat flocks of the plain lands. they existed mainly by brigandage as their sheep-stealing ballads tell, and the history of raid and punitive expedition is much like that of our indian frontier. till the vladikas were chosen according to the usual methods of the orthodox church. after that date they were, with one exception, members of the petrovitch family. this has been vaguely accounted for by saying that to prevent quarrels the montenegrins decided to make the post hereditary in the petrovitch family. as the vladika was celibate, his successor had to be chosen from among members of his family. later events, however, throw much light on this alleged interference with the rules of the orthodox church. in june, , danilo petrovitch, of nyegushi, who, be it noted, was already in holy orders, was chosen as vladika. a man of well-known courage such as the country needed, he accepted office, but was not consecrated till . till then the vladikas of montenegro had been consecrated by the serb patriarch at ipek. but in arsenius the patriarch had decided to accept the protection of austria and emigrated to karlovatz with most of his flock. the turns of fortune's wheel are odd. the serbs have more than once owed almost their existence to austrian intervention. the turks permitted the appointment of another serb patriarch, but serb influence in the district waned rapidly and the albanians rapidly resettled the lands from which their forefathers had been evicted. in the phanariotes suppressed the serb patriarchate altogether, for the greek was ever greedy of spreading over the whole peninsula, and the vladika of montenegro was thus the only head of a serb church in the balkans and gained much in importance. danilo was a born ruler. he soon absorbed all the temporal power, and latterly left matters ecclesiastic to his nephew sava. the outstanding feature of his rule was his suppression of mahommedanism. at this time conversions to islam were increasing. danilo, when on a visit to the plain of podgoritza, to consecrate a small church by permission of the pasha of scutari, was taken prisoner by the local moslems, though he had been promised safe conduct, and put up to ransom. he was bought off only by the sacrifice of the church plate of the monastery, and returned home hot with anger. to avenge the insult and clear the land of islam he organized the wholesale massacre of the moslems of montenegro. on christmas eve an armed band, led by the martinovitches, rushed from house to house slaughtering all who refused baptism. next morning the murderers came to the church, says the song: "their arms were bloody to the shoulders." danilo, flushed with joy, cried: "dear god we thank thee for all things!" a thanksgiving was held and a feast followed. danilo thus gained extraordinary popularity. such is the fame of his christmas eve that it was enthusiastically quoted to me in the balkan war of - as an example to be followed, and baptisms were enforced with hideous cruelty. the balkan christian of to-day is no whit less cruel than the turk and is more fanatical. danilo's prestige after this massacre was so great that the tribes of the brda formed a defensive alliance with him against the turks. and his fame flew further, for russia, now for the first time, appeared in montenegro. peter the great sent his envoy miloradovitch to cetinje in --a date of very great importance, for from it begins modern balkan policy and the power of the petrovitches. peter claimed the montenegrins as of one blood and one faith with russia and called on them to fight the turk and meet him at constantinople where they would together "glorify the slav name; destroy the brood of the agas and build up temples to the true faith." the montenegrins rushed to the fray with wild enthusiasm and on the high ground between rijeka and podgoritza won the battle called "the field of the sultan's felling," such was the number of turks who, entangled in the thorn bushes, were slaughtered wholesale, as the montenegrin driver recounts to this day when he passes the spot. a great victory--but russia and montenegro have not yet met at constantinople. the turks sent a strong punitive force and, not for the first time, burnt the monastery at cetinje, wasted the land and doubtless removed enough gear to pay the haratch [tax] which danilo had refused. is noteworthy as the date of danilo's visit to petersburg, when he was given the first of the many subsidies which the tsars have bestowed till recently upon the petrovitch family. in a land which is rat-poor, the family which has wealth has power. the petrovitches had gained power and they kept it. fighting almost till the last, danilo died full of years and fame, in , and named his nephew sava, who had acted for some time as ecclesiastical head, as his successor. sava had no ambition to be aught but a churchman. he built the monastery of stanjevitch and retired to it, leaving his nephew vassili to govern. vassili, who was already in holy orders, had much of the quality of danilo. he organized the defence of the land and defeated more than one attack upon it. montenegro was now largely fighting against the moslem serbs of bosnia and the herzegovina. in fact the "turk" with whom the balkan christian waged war was as often as not his compatriot, turned moslem. vassili and sava further strengthened their alliance with russia by visiting petersburg, where the empress elizabeth promised them a yearly subsidy of , roubles and money for schools. vassili died in russia in and sava was left to manage alone. he was quite unfit and his post was usurped by a remarkable imposter who appeared suddenly in montenegro and said he was peter iii of russia, who had been murdered in . russia was a name to conjure with. he thrilled the credulous tribesmen with tales of his escape and adventures. in the words of an old ballad: "he is known as stefan the little. the nation turns to him as a child to its father. they have dismissed their headmen, their serdars, knezhes and voyvodas. all eyes turn to him and hail him as tsar." sava returned to his monastery and the imposter reigned. even the patriarch of ipek who was on the verge of dismissal, cried for the protection of stefan mali, who set to work to govern with great energy. venice, alarmed by his popularity, joined with the turks and attacked montenegro, but was repulsed. russia, seeing her influence waning with the departed sava, sent an envoy to denounce the impostor. but "nothing succeeds like success." stefan mali had such a hold over the ignorant tribesmen that russia, seeing sava was useless, recognized stefan as ruler. he reigned five more years and was murdered in by, it was said, an agent of the pasha of scutari. he is believed to have been of humble bosnia origin and was one of the few successful impostors of history. sava had perforce to return to the world, and owing to his incapacity the post of civil governor of montenegro now became important. the office, till now held always by a vukotitch, had meant little save the leadership of tribal soviets or councils. the vukotitches exchanged the office with the radonitches for that of serdar, and under the title of gubernator the first radonitch rose to power. this is a very important period for now for the first time austria appears on the scene and the long diplomatic struggle with russia for power in montenegro begins. in an appeal to the emperor of austria was sent, signed by ivan radonitch, gubernator; ivan petrovitch, serdar; and lastly by petar petrovitch, archimandrite and deputy-metropolitan. from which we must conclude that sava had definitely retired from power. from this date for several years ivan radonitch always signed first. he had just returned from a fruitless trip to russia, and was seeking help from austria. sava died in and was succeeded by vladika plamenatz, a fact which, though well known in montenegro, is rigidly excluded from her official history by the petrovitches, whose version, the only "authorized" one, is constructed with more regard to the glory of their dynasty than historic truth. on sava's death the radonitch party at once welcomed the first austrian mission to montenegro and accommodated it in sava's monastery. one of the envoys has left a vivid picture of montenegro in those days. "the nation has no police, no laws. a kind of equality reigns. the headmen have only a certain authority for managing ordinary business and settling blood-feuds. the father of radonitch was the first to whom the nation gave the title gubernator in order to gain the respect of the venetians and turks. the gubernator summons the serdars, voyvodas and knezhes. they meet in the open air. the general assembly takes place at the village of cetinje. . . . the vladika, or at least a couple of monks, are present. the serdars similarly call local meetings of headmen and thus arrange peace between two families or villages. their power consists only of persuasion. in practice murder is usually avenged by murder. the land has one metropolitan, the vladika, in whose eparchy are included ipek, kroja and dalmatia spiritually, for the consecration of priests, he being, since the removal of the patriarch of ipek, the next archbishop. but the foreign priests obey him in no respect save for consecration. his functions consist in the consecration of priests and churches. he visits the parishes but not so much for pastoral duties as for the collection of the so-called milostina, the alms which form his payment. the monks too collect on their own behalf. the people who are very superstitious, fast rigorously and give willingly to the clergy. their terror of excommunication makes them regard their bishops as the highest and most respected in the land. radonitch's father, first gubernator, tried to obtain the highest position for himself but failed. his son now tries to, and would succeed, were he cleverer and had more money, for the metropolitan plamenatz is little respected and could not do much to prevent him. the metropolitans have been used to visit petersburg from time to time and to receive a subsidy for the church and gifts in money and in the form of costly vestments for themselves. from which gifts, say the people, they receive no benefit. since no russian money has been received. the feelings of the country have consequently grown cold. people here obey only so long as they gain by so doing." we now come upon the first notice of the development of the great serbian idea, as a definite political plan in montenegro. the austrian envoy writes: "the following which was told me by a montenegrin monk is worthy of further consideration. a little while after the russian war was ended in a plan was made by the metropolitan and some monks to reconstruct the old serbian kingdom and to include in it besides bulgaria, serbia, upper albania, dalmatia and bosnia, also the banat of karlstadt and slavonia. the turks in all the provinces were to be fallen upon at a given moment by the schismatics, and it was also resolved that all foreign officers should be cleared out of all lands within the imperial frontiers. the late orthodox bishop jaksitch of karlstadt is said to have agreed and carried on a correspondence with the metropolitan of montenegro by means of priests. . . . though the carrying out of such a plan is very difficult, yet the project should not be left out of consideration." the petrovitch ambition to form and rule over great serbia was thus, we see, actually elaborated long before serbia had obtained independence and before the karageorgevitches had even been heard of. this explains much that has since happened. further the envoy replies to the question: whether or not montenegro can be considered independent?--thus: "from the frontier drawn by the venetians with the turks it follows that montenegro belongs to the turks. the nation does not deny that it has been twice conquered by the turks, who, each time, destroyed cetinje and the monastery, where some turks even settled, but were driven out. in they were forced to pay tribute by the vezir of bosnia. the montenegrins on the plains, in fact, pay tribute. the katunska and rijeka nahias alone have paid no tribute since . these facts show montenegro belongs to the porte. "the montenegrins on the contrary maintain that they have never recognized turkish rule, and never paid tribute save when forced by overpowering numbers; that they do not recognize the assigning of their nahias to the pashas of spuzh and scutari; that they have chosen a gubernator whose title has not been disputed; that they rule themselves without turkish interference. in truth, however, the apparent independence of the land depends as much on its mountainous character as on the courage of the inhabitants. the difficulties of the land make it more trouble than it is worth." the country is described as completely lawless. blood feuds rage between rival families and in seven months a hundred men have been killed in vengeance. over this wild group of tribes russia and austria now struggled for influence. in ivan radonitch went for seven months to vienna. montenegro could not (and cannot) possibly exist without foreign aid. and he sought it. but the emperor joseph ii decided that to organize montenegro as an ally "would, in peace, be costly and in war of insufficient use." he withdrew the mission but, to retain montenegro's goodwill, allotted a small annual subsidy of which ducats were to go to radonitch, and but to vladika plamenatz. russia, however, would not let montenegro slip from her grasp. in may, , a russian envoy arrived and began countermining austria. austria retorted by sending another envoy, who reports complete anarchy and ceaseless inter-tribal fighting: "some were with us; some sought to destroy us; some fought the turks; some were in alliance with them. they have a bishop, governor and serdar, but these are mere names. people obey only if they can gain by so doing. we even heard a common man say to the bishop's face: 'holy bishop, you lie like a hound! i will cut out your heart on the point of my knife.' except that they keep the fasts they have no religion. they rob, steal, and have many wives. some sell women and girls to the turks and commit other crimes as one hears daily. all is done with the animal impulse of desire, or hatred, or selfishness. the inhabitants are used to raid neighbourlands for cattle, etc., and are even led by their priests on these expeditions which they think heroic." this vivid account will be recognized as the truth by all who have lived in native huts and listened to local tradition. it describes the life of the balkan christian up till recent days. my montenegrin guide used to lament the good old times when a second wife could be taken and no fuss made; and when as many as fifteen men were shot in a feud; and his great uncle had commanded a pirate ship which plied between the adriatic and the aegean. there is nothing new under the sun. in , as in the twentieth century, we find the rival powers trying to buy partisans. "we never could satisfy them," says the austrian envoy. "when we thought we had won him with one gift, we found next day he had joined the opposition party or demanded a new gift as if he had not had one. even the bishop, though he tried by all means to win our favour, could not hide from us his false intriguing heart." the struggle was brief. russia was victorious. vladika plamenatz disappeared suddenly, and the petrovitches came again to the fore. vladika petar's name headed all official documents, the gubernator fell to second rank, and the blood-feud between the plamenatzes and the petrovitches compelled some of the former to seek shelter with the turks. russia has never permitted a pro-austrian to rule long in slav lands. witness the-fate of the obrenovitches, in serbia. vladika petar was a strong man, which is probably why he obtained russian support. he drove his unruly team with much success and won its respect. russia and austria came to one of their many "understandings" and in declared war together on the turk with the expressed intention of ending the sultan's rule. both encouraged the montenegrins to harry the turkish borders. the austrian envoy, however, distrusted the montenegrins and wrote: "very much more can we rely on the faith and courage of the catholic albanians of the brda, the very numerous bijelopavlitchi, piperi, kuchi, vasojevitchi, klementi, hoti, etc., who could muster , very outrageous fighters whom the sultan fears more than he does the montenegrins." a passage of great interest, for to-day many of these albanian tribes, having fallen under montenegrin rule, have been completely slavized and have 'joined the orthodox church. some of these tribes did support austria, were left in the lurch by her when she made peace in , and were punished by the turks. part of the klementi dared not return home and settled in hungary, where their descendants still live. montenegro was mentioned in the treaty of sistova merely as a rebellious turkish province, but vladika petar had gained much power, for the brda tribes now definitely accepted him as their head and the tsutsi and bijelitch tribes emigrated into montenegro from the herzegovina and were given land. the turks forcibly opposed the union of the brda with montenegro, but could not prevent it, and in the fight the pasha of scutari was killed. his head, on a stake, for long adorned the tower at cetinje. a hard blow was now struck at montenegro. the venetians in ceded the bocche di cattaro to austria. till then the frontier had been vague. the vladika was spiritual head of the bocchese and the montenegrins considered them as part of themselves. the new frontier caused much wrath. russia hurried to support the vladika. austria strove in vain for influence. her envoy wrote in , "the gubernator sees his authority daily weakening while that of the vladika increases." he says the frontier must be fixed "so as to force this horde of brigands to remain within the frontiers which they cross only to molest his majesty's subjects and make them victims of brigandage. the metropolitan and the gubernator have given no satisfaction to the complaints daily addressed to them." no. they did not. for they had a strong backing. up hurried a special envoy of the tsar with rich gifts for the vladika, who received him with a salute of guns, and further insulted austria by hoisting the russian flag over the monastery. "devil and baker" had both pulled. which won? i leave that to the reader. russia was now ruling power in montenegro. when napoleon's troops appeared in the near east the montenegrins joined the russian forces and attacked the french at ragusa where their ferocity horrified even the hardened soldiers of napoleon. a ragusan gave me her grandfather's account of the yelling horde of savage mountaineers who rushed into battle with the decapitated heads of their foes dangling from their necks and belts, sparing no one, pillaging and destroying, and enraging the russian officers by rushing home so soon as they had secured booty worth carrying off. in considering the near east of to-day it should never be forgotten that but a century ago much of the population was as wild as the red indians of the same date. the french held the bocche di cattaro some years during which the vladika, as russia's ally, flatly refused to come to terms with them. and in , so soon as napoleon's defeat became known vladika petar and vuko radonitch, the new gubernator, summoned the tribesmen, swooped down on cattaro, stormed the trinity fort and captured budua. a short-lived triumph. russia, wishing peace with austria and having no further use for montenegro, ordered the vladika to yield his newly conquered lands and they were formally allotted to austria by treaty. during these years the resurrection of serbia was taking place. in this montenegro was unable to take active part, being more than enough occupied with her own affairs. but the vladika himself sang karageorge's heroism and tried to send a force to his aid. vladika petar i died in . he left montenegro larger and stronger than he found it, for he had worked hard to unite the ever-quarrelling tribes by establishing laws to suppress blood-feuds. inability to cohere is ever the curse of slav lands. only a strong autocrat has as yet welded them. petar earned the fame he bears in the land. his body is to this day deeply reverenced by the superstitious mountaineers. some years after burial it was found to have been miraculously preserved from decay and he was thereupon canonized under the name of st. petar cetinski. when dying he nominated as his successor his nephew rada, then a lad not yet in holy orders, and made his chiefs swear to support him. such an irregular proceeding as appointing a youth of seventeen to an archbishopric could hardly have been carried out, even in the balkans, had it not been for the terror of a dead man's curse--a thing still dreaded in the land. and also for the fact that rada's election had the support too of vuko radonitch the gubernator. vuko hoped doubtless to obtain the upper hand over such a young rival. rada, with no further training, was at once consecrated as vladika petar ii by the bishop of prizren and this strange consecration was confirmed later at petersburg, whither the young petrovitch duly went. russia has all along consistently furthered her influence and plans in the balkans by planting suitable bishops as political agents. russia was now powerful in montenegro. a russian officer led the clans a-raiding into turkey and returned with so many decapitated heads to adorn cetinje, that the tsar thought fit to protest. the tug between austria and russia continued. vuko, the gubernator, and his party, finding the youthful archbishop taking the upper hand with russian aid, entered into negotiations with austria. the plot was, however, detected. vuko fled to austria. his brother was assassinated; the family house at nyegushi was burnt down and the family exiled. russia would tolerate no influence but her own and had begun in fact the same policy she afterwards developed in serbia. from that date-- --the office of gubernator was abolished. imitation is the sincerest flattery. the petrovitches began to model themselves on their patrons, the tsars, and strove for absolutism. petar ii ranks high as author and poet. he further organized the laws against the blood-feuds which were sapping the strength of the nation and ingeniously ordered a murderer to be shot by a party made up of one man from each tribe. as the relatives of the dead man could not possibly avenge themselves on every tribe in the land the murder-sequence had perforce to end. to reconcile public opinion to this form of punishment he permitted the condemned man to run for his life. if the firing party missed him, he was pardoned. the point gained was that the murder became the affair of the central government, not of the local one. petar also did much to start education in the land. he died before he was forty of tuberculosis, in , one of the early victims of the disease which shortly afterwards began to ravage montenegro and has killed many petrovitches. he named as his successor his nephew danilo. danilo's accession is a turning point in montenegrin history. he at once stated that he did not wish to enter holy orders and would accept temporal power only. he was, in fact, about to marry a lady who was an austrian slav. for this, the consent of russia had to be obtained, for till now it was through the church that russia had ruled in montenegro. she had ever--with the sole exception of the usurper stefan mali--supported the vladika against the gubernator. this office was, however, now abolished. there had been difficulty more than once about transmitting the ruling power from uncle to nephew. russia decided that she could obtain a yet firmer hold of the land if she established a directly hereditary dynasty. danilo was proclaimed prince and ecclesiastical affairs alone were to be administered by the bishop. the sultan who had accepted the rule of the bishop in montenegro as in other christian districts, protested against the recognition of an hereditary prince and at once attacked montenegro, which was saved by the diplomatic intervention of both russia and austria, neither of whom wished its destruction. peace was made and danilo formally recognized. he was never popular. he had received his title from russia, but his sympathies leaned towards austria. and he offended both russia and his montenegrins by refusing to take part in the crimean war, to the wrath of the tribes who saw in it a fine opportunity for harrying their foes of the border. attempts to enforce law and order provoked hostility among the recently annexed tribes of the brda who, though they had voluntarily joined montenegro as opposed to the turks, refused flatly to pay taxes. danilo put down this rising with great severity and gained the hatred of the revolted tribes. but even with enforced taxation danilo was short of funds. russia, angry at his failure to aid her, stood aside. danilo begged of austria and austria refused. montenegro could not and cannot live without foreign support. the french--now so active again in balkan intrigue--came in and tried to detach danilo from their then enemy russia, by offering him a subsidy and certain concessions from the sultan if he would accept turkish suzerainty. there ensued a quarrel between the russian agent in cetinje, b. m. medakovitch, and danilo over this. medakovitch was danilo's private secretary. "i lived in friendship and harmony with prince danilo," he says, "until he said to me, 'i know you wish the montenegrins well and highly value their liberty. but it cannot be as you wish. we must recognize the turks in order to obtain more money.' we might have remained friends but foreign intrigues crept in. ... enemies of our faith and name denounced me as the "friend" of russia. my faith and blood are dear to me. but i have always kept in view the good of the nation and followed the course which ever led to the fortune of montenegro. ... i would not agree that montenegro's glory should be denied in accordance with the wishes of the french consul at scutari, who in especial is trying to destroy the power of montenegro." (history repeats itself. the french now, , are aiming at montenegro's destruction.) "i opposed turkish rule . . . but the headmen sided with prince danilo and favoured the wish of the french consul. they were ready to accept the turk as lord. only i and prince george petrovitch opposed them." the quarrel was heightened by the fact that tsar nikola i, when he died in , bequeathed , ducats to montenegro, but stipulated they were to be used for charitable purposes under russian control. danilo was enraged by this as he wanted the cash himself. medakovitch refused to give it him. "he regards as his friend him who gives him gold," says a contemporary; "who gives naught is his arch-enemy." danilo continued negotiating with france, and medakovitch carried the , ducats out of the country to the russian consul-general at ragusa. danilo formed a crafty plan. he sent two cunning agents to ragusa to pretend to the russian that montenegro was in a state of unrest, and that they could overthrow danilo and re-establish russian influence if they could have the , ducats. to what more laudable end could they be expended? but the russian was a yet more wily fox and the plan failed. danilo then hurried to paris to discuss matters and while he was absent george petrovitch led a rising against him, instigated doubtless by medakovitch. danilo hastily returned to montenegro and according to a contemporary account a reign of terror followed. he feared every popular man: "thus it is that a series of executions without trial or formal accusation has gone on for months without it being possible to see when this terrible state of things will end. persons who to-day are the prince's favourites are to-morrow corpses. his commands, his threats and his gold obtain for him false oaths and false documents." a fierce blood-feud which lasted in effect till a few years ago, arose between him and the gjurashkovitches. marko gjurashkovitch, one of the richest and handsomest of the headmen, dared, during the prince's absence in france, to marry the widow of pero petrovitch, whom danilo had meant to bestow on his favourite petar vukotitch. danilo therefore bribed heavily gligor milanovitch the arambasha of a brigand band, who accused marko gjurashkovitch and another of a treasonable plot against danilo's life. the two were at once arrested and executed in spite of their protestations of innocence. the gjurashkovitches fled into turkish territory where the two still held official posts under the turkish government till . danilo found his scheme for accepting turkish suzerainty now so unpopular that he dropped it and the turks consequently at once attacked montenegro. the land was saved by the valour of danilo's brother, grand voyvoda mirko, whose exploits are still sung by the peasants. a great battle was fought at grahovo. the retreat of the turkish army was cut off and the whole was slaughtered or captured. the prisoners, according to montenegrin custom, were hideously mutilated and the british report of them as they passed corfu on their return struck horror in europe. by this victory montenegro gained more land, but owed it to the valour of mirko rather than to danilo. danilo's best work was the codification and reformation of the unwritten law of the land. code danilo is rude enough, but an advance upon the laws of vladika petar. it was printed in italian as well as serb. italian, till the beginning of the present century, was the only foreign tongue that had made any way in montenegro. when danilo had refused the spiritual headship of the land and had chosen marriage, the superstitious foretold that no good would come of this and that no heir of his body would succeed him. the prophecy came true. he was assassinated in the summer of on the shore of the bocche di cattaro, and left but two daughters. the assassin, a montenegrin, was arrested and executed and died without giving any explanation of his deed. it has been ascribed both to austria and russia--but was far more probably an act of private vengeance. danilo was succeeded by nikola i the present king of montenegro, son of voyvoda mirko. two main points stand clear from this brief sketch. ( ) that the history of montenegro, as that of all the balkan peoples, is but a part of the gigantic racial struggle of slav and teuton for command of the near east. the slav ever pressing southward and westward, the teuton standing as a bulwark for west europe and holding back the advancing hordes. the one non-slavonic lace in this group, the albanian (with the exception of a few catholic tribes) consistently struggles also against the slav peril and sides with its opponents. ( ) it is also markedly a struggle for the supremacy of the orthodox church. for with the exception of montenegro's fights against the armies of the pasha of scutari and his albanians, the enemy of montenegro was always the moslem serbs of bosnia and the herzegovina, people, that is, who racially and linguistically and by custom are identical with the montenegrins. montenegro's history continued on precisely the same lines under nikola i, until slavonic and teutonic rivalry culminated in the colossal struggle which began in august . of all the petrovitches nikola is one of the most remarkable. the last of the mediaeval chieftains of europe--a survival from a past age--he is an epitome of the good and bad qualities of his race. in common with that of other half-wild races the montenegrin mind is credulous and child-like and at the same time crafty and cunning. with a very limited outlook, the balkan politician is wont to spend infinite ingenuity in outwitting a rival in order to gain some petty advantage, and meanwhile to lose sight entirely of the larger issues. prince nikola, better equipped by a western education than any of his forerunners, rapidly gained a strong hold over his ignorant subjects and in the great game of near eastern politics was second only to abdul hamid at ruse and intrigue. from the very first he had but one ambition--the reconstruction of the great serbian empire with the petrovitches as the reigning dynasty. he lived for it and he did all possible to foster it in the minds of his people. he enforced the wearing of the national cap, invented by vladika petar ii. each child was taught that his cap's red crown was blood that had to be avenged. for each tribe he wrote a kolo song to be danced to at festive gatherings, to stimulate nationalism. and for the whole country he wrote that most popular national song: onward, onward, let me see prizren, for it is mine--i shall come to my home! the throne and the castle of tsar dushan at prizren became a national obsession. and to ensure the obedience of the soviet of headmen he appointed his redoubtable father voyvoda mirko as president and chose the members himself. he was but nineteen at the time of his accession and married almost at once, milena, daughter of voyvoda vukotitch of the fighting tribe of kchevo, to whom he had been affianced in childhood, as was then customary. their reign began stormily. the turks thirsting to avenge grahovo attacked montenegro on three sides. voyvoda mirko led his son's forces and the montenegrins defended themselves desperately, but were so severely outnumbered that only the intervention of the powers saved them. so much was mirko dreaded that the turks made it one of their peace terms that he must leave the country. this term was, however,' not fulfilled and the sturdy old savage remained in montenegro till the day of his death, steadily opposing all western and modern ideas, especially the making of a carriage road into the country; and ever composing and singing to the gusle songs of battle and border fray, which, though devoid of literary merit, give an invaluable picture of the savagery of the land in the middle of the nineteenth century. old mirko died of the great cholera epidemic which swept montenegro, and prince nikola was then free to introduce new visages into the land. balanced perilously between austria and russia he managed to keep on good terms with both, but his sympathies were russian. to russia he turned for help to organize an army. till then each tribe had fought according to its own ideas. montenegro had no artillery and no equipment save flintlocks and the hand jar, the heavy knife used for decapitation. in petersburg he was warmly received by tsar alexander ii, who gave him funds both for schools and the army. a small-arms factory was started at rijeka and a gun foundry near cetinje. weapons were bought from france and preparations made for the next campaign. you cannot talk to king nikola long without learning that war, successful war, filled all his mind. conquest and great serbia were the stars of his heaven and of that of his people. border frays enough took place and when, in , the herzegovinians broke into open revolt the montenegrins rushed to their aid. nikola, commanded by the powers to keep the peace, declared he could not restrain the tribesmen. local tradition which is possibly correct states that his efforts to do so were not strenuous. in june prince milan of serbia declared war on turkey. prince nikola, who had already refused to acknowledge milan as leader of the serb peoples and regarded him with jealous eyes, thereupon declared war next day. the great serbian idea was already causing rivalry. nikola fought and won his first battle at vuchidol. montenegrin arms were successful everywhere--penetrated far into the herzegovina; took podgoritza, nikshitch and antivari. when the victorious russians drew up the treaty of san stefano at the very gates of constantinople prince nikola, "the tsar's only friend," received liberal treatment, and serbia, suspected of austrian leanings, but scant recognition. the treaty of berlin reversed this. england was especially anti-russian and, represented by lord beaconsfield and lord salisbury, insisted on entrusting the bulk of montenegro's conquests in the herzegovina to austrian administration. "the tsar's only friend" was regarded with suspicion. montenegro was unfortunately compensated mainly with albanian territory. it was a great injustice. the albanians had made just as stubborn a fight for their nationality as had the montenegrins, and had never lost local autonomy. they resisted violently and prevented montenegro from occupying either plava, gusinje or tuzi. the powers tried to make up by an even worse act of injustice. mr. gladstone, having little or no personal experience of the orthodox church, was possessed of an extraordinary admiration for it, and, filled with the erroneous idea that every moslem was a turk, he was in favour of giving dulcigno, a wholly albanian town, to montenegro in place of the other three. it was a peculiarly unjust and cruel decision. even in the days of the serb kings dulcigno had kept its autonomy and at one time coined its own money. all old travellers state the spoken language was albanian. the montenegrins could not take it and had no claim to it. a naval demonstration of the powers forced it to surrender, perhaps one of the biggest acts of bullying of which the powers have as yet been guilty. albanian dulcigno was handed over to its hereditary foe. the strength of its purely albanian nature is shown by the fact that whereas in nikshitch, podgoritza, and spuzh the moslems, serbs and albanians, were stripped of all their property and expelled wholesale to starve as very many did--the montenegrins did not dare interfere with the large and hostile population of dulcigno and have in no way succeeded in slavizing it: the dulcigniotes still ask for re-union with albania. montenegro was recognized by the treaty of berlin for the first time as an independent principality, and serbia, in , was raised to a kingdom. to prince nikola and his montenegrins who had refused to recognize prince milan as leader of the serb nation this was a most bitter pill. rivalry between the two branches of the serb race was intensified. prince nikola strove by a remarkable series of marriages to unite himself to any and all of the powers by means of his numerous offspring. russia being his "only friend" he aspired to marry one of his elder daughters to the tsarivitch. but the poor girl who was being educated for the purpose in russia, died young. two other daughters he however successfully married to the grand duke nikola nikolaievitch and the grand duke peter. with great serbia in view, and on bad terms with the obrenovitches of serbia, he married his daughter zorka in to petar karageorgevitch, the exiled claimant to the serbian throne. having thus married his elder children to russian and serb he then turned to the triple alliance and married helena to the crown prince of italy, thus securing an ally, as he hoped, across the adriatic; and his heir prince danilo to the daughter of the grand duke of mecklenburg strelitz. for his daughter anna he selected prince joseph battenburg. "how do you think this young man will do as prince of macedonia?" he once cheerfully asked mr. bouchier, to prince joseph's embarrassment. lastly, in order to have claim on serbia whichever way the political cat hopped, he married prince mirko to natalie constantinovitch, cousin to alexander obrenovitch of serbia. all that prince nikola could do to conquer europe by "peaceful penetration" he certainly did. two daughters remained: princesses xenia and vera. popular report had it that one was destined for bulgaria and the other for greece, and there was much disappointment when the princes of those lands made other choice. nor i fear are either ladies likely now to mount thrones. one error of judgment which has largely helped to thwart prince nikola's hopes is the fact that, alarmed lest foreign luxury should make his sons discontented with their stony fatherland, he would not send them abroad to be educated. they were taught at home by a tutor who was an able man enough, but the future ruler of even a tiny realm needs a wider experience and training. he further made the fatal mistake of bringing them up as princes apart from the people, whereas he himself had played with village children. as a result they grew up with exaggerated ideas of their own importance, devoid of discipline and ignorant of all things most needful for a successful ruler in a poor land. they had all the vices of princes and none of their virtues. it was a tragic error with tragic consequences. nikola came to the throne as a mediaeval chieftain in a yet mediaeval land. to succeed in his ambitions, and he was then amply justified in believing that he would succeed, it was needful to train up a successor fit to rule in the twentieth century. the gates of time were of a sudden flung open. in the space of a few years something like five centuries poured over the land. nikola stood on the rocks with his sons hoping to escape the devastating torrent. but there was no way of escape. they must swim with the stream of time--or drown. nor does it now seem likely that one of his immediate descendants will ever rule great serbia. they failed to take the "tide in the affairs of men" and their golden dream has been swept, into the never-never land. it is bitter tragedy to end life as a failure. chapter three. first impressions of land and people in i visited montenegro and went down the lake to scutari. scutari captured me at once. it had colour, life, art. its people were friendly and industrious and did not spend all their time drinking rakia and swaggering up and down the street as at cetinje. there was something very human about them and of all things i wanted to go into the albanian mountains. but our consul there was but just arrived. he consulted his austrian colleague and as austria was then keeping the mountains as its own preserve, he replied, emphatically, that the journey was impossible for me. no particular political crisis was happening, but there were rumours of a certain kastrioti in paris who claimed descent from the great skenderbeg and his possible arrival as prince of albania roused a certain excitement in albanian breasts. hopes of independence were already spoken of in hushed whispers. in montenegro great serbia was the talk, and i was shewn crude prints of the heroes of old, on many a cottage wall. and some flashlights on montenegrin character showed vividly the different mentality of the balkans. the new british vice-consul for scutari came up to cetinje on business, for the british minister had left owing to ill-health. the montenegrins did not like the new vice-consul and seriously consulted me as to the possibility of having him exchanged for another. i was extremely surprised. "but why do you not like him?" i asked. "because he does not like us," was the confident reply. "but he has only been here a week," i urged. "how can he know yet whether he likes you or not? in any case what does it matter. it is not necessary to like a consul." "but yes!" came the horrified reply. "how is it not necessary? one must either love or hate!" one must either love or hate. there is no medium. it was dushan gregovitch that spoke. lazar mioushkovitch flashed the next beam on the national character. some tourists arrived and, at the lunch table, talked with lazar. one was a clergyman. he told how canon mccoll during the turko-russian war of had reported having seen severed heads on poles, and how all england, including punch, had jeered at him for thinking such a thing possible in europe in the nineteenth century. mioushkovitch was sadly puzzled. "but how, i ask you, could he fail to see severed heads in a war? the cutting off of heads in fact--i see nothing remarkable in that!" then, seeing the expression of the reverend gentleman's face, he added quickly: "but when it comes to teaching the children to stick cigarettes in the mouths--there i agree with you, it is a bit too strong!" (c'est un peu fort ca!) there was a sudden silence. the near east had, in fact, momentarily undraped itself. last came the days when we daily expected to hear that the queen of italy had given birth to a son and heir. a gun was made ready to fire twenty-one shots. candles were prepared to light in every window. the flags waited to be unfurled. we all sat at lunch in the hotel. the door flew open and a perianik (royal guard) entered. he spoke a few words to monsieur piguet, the prince's tutor. piguet excused himself and left the room. after some interval he returned, heaved a heavy sigh, and in a voice of deep depression, said to the diplomatic table: eh bien messieurs --nous avons une fille! it was appalling. no one in montenegro, it would appear, had thought such a catastrophe even possible. to the montenegrin the birth of a daughter was a misfortune. "you feed your son for yourself. you feed your daughter for another man." faced with this mediaeval point of view the diplomatic circle was struck dumb. till the british consul said bravely: "i don't care what the etiquette is! i won't condole with him." and the tension was relieved. no guns were fired, no candles lighted. cetinje tried to look as though nothing at all had happened. one member of the round table at this time needs mention. count louis voynovitch from ragusa was staying in cetinje to draw up a new code of laws. this clever adventurer was looked on with some jealousy by the montenegrins and much favoured by the royal family whom he amused with anecdotes and jokes. it was said he was to be permanently minister of justice, but he left montenegro rather suddenly over, it was said, a cherchez la femme affair. he then went to bulgaria as tutor, i believe, to the young princes, and afterwards held a post in serbia. and he returned again to montenegro and represented montenegro at the ambassadors conference in london during the balkan war of - . he was reputed to be deep dipped in every intrigue of the balkans and in jugoslavia we may some day hear of him again. nothing else now worth recording occurred in my holiday. next year was a full one. chapter four. serbia and the way there "the wicked flee when no man pursueth, but the righteous is bold as a lion." twice had i visited montenegro and had heard much of great serbia. of the past as seen by serb eyes i read in any number of cheap pink and blue ballad books. as for the present, big montenegrins in the most decorative national dress in europe, swaggered up and down the main street of cetinje, consumed unlimited black coffee and rakia and discussed the glorious days when all serbs should again be united under gospodar nikita. but that they were taking any active steps to create this earthly paradise i had then no idea. my holiday was due. i decided to go further afield and see serbia itself, but to go first to montenegro where i might obtain information and introductions. no one in england could tell me anything and only one recent book on the subject could be found. this was of no consequence for the real joy of travel begins with the plunge into the unknown and in it was still possible to find this joy in europe. from whittaker's almanac i learnt that all passports must be visaed at the serbian legation and thither i hastened. i had never travelled without a passport, for accidents may always happen and even so near home as paris identity papers may be useful. but i had never before sought a special visa. light-heartedly, therefore, i rang the legation bell and cheerfully offered the youth, who admitted me, the passport with a request for a visa. he told me to wait; and wait i did until--though not quite new to the near east i began to wonder what overwhelming world-politics were detaining the serbian minister. persons peeped at me cautiously through the half-open door and darted back when i looked round. finally, i was summoned into m. militchevitch's presence. stiffly he asked why i wanted to go to serbia. my reply, that having visited montenegro i now proposed seeing other serb lands, did not please him at all. i made things worse by enlarging on my montenegrin experiences for i had no idea then of the fact that there is nothing one slav state hates so much as another slav state, and truly thought to please him. he persisted in wanting "definite information." "what do you want to do there?" "travel and sketch and photograph and collect curios." he suggested sternly that there were other lands in europe where all this could be done. his attitude was incomprehensible to me, who then knew foreign lands only as places which received tourists with open arms and hotels gaping for guests. he, on the other hand, found me quite as incomprehensible for, like many another balkan man, he could conceive of no travel without a political object. and i was quite unaware that the murders upon which great serbia was to be built were even then being plotted. point-blank, i asked, "is travelling in serbia so very dangerous then?" the shot told. "not at all!" said he hastily. "then why may i not go?" after more argle-bargle he consented to give me the visa on condition i went straight to the british consul at belgrade and did nothing without his advice. he signed, remarking that he took no responsibility. i paid and left triumphant, all unaware of the hornet's nest i was now free to enter. of serb politics i knew at that time little beyond the fact that king alexander was unpopular owing to an unfortunate marriage and the still more unfortunate attempt of queen draga to plant a false heir upon the country by pretending pregnancy; that his father's career had been melodramatic and that the history of serbia for the whole period of her independence had been one long blood-feud between the rival dynasties of karageorge and obrenovitch, neither of which seemed popular in montenegro. off i went to cetinje and told various people my plan for seeing serbia. rather to my surprise no one offered me introductions, but having been repeatedly told that the montenegrins were the cream of the serb nation, and would lead serbia to glory i believed that the mere mention of montenegro and my acquaintance with it would suffice to assure me a welcome. near the door of the monastery of cetinje is the grave of one of the karageorgevitches and the priest who showed it me told that the families petrovitch and karageorgevitch had been on very friendly terms. prince nikola had married his daughter zorka to petar karageorgevitch, the rival claimant to the serbian throne, in ; that the young couple had lived in cetinje and their three children were born there; but that, after zorka's death in , father-in-law and son-in-law had fallen out badly about money matters and petar had been seen no more in montenegro. the fact that the present crown prince alexander of serbia was born in cetinje is of some interest now, when he is attempting to seize his grandfather's throne--but more of this later. in it was still undreamed of. only count bollati, then italian minister to montenegro, took any active interest in my plans. le bon dieu, he said, "has created you expressly to travel in the balkans." he loathed cetinje and explained he had accepted it only as one degree better than buenos ayres because nearer to rome. "nothing bites you," he continued; "everything bites me. your method of seeing lands is undoubtedly the best, but i am satisfied with what i see from the windows of the best hotel." nor, unfortunately, was count bollati in any way unique in his tastes a fact which may have affected the politics of europe. he had held a diplomatic post in belgrade and was very curious to know how i should fare. "sooner you than i!" he laughed, and meanwhile sketched me a route through the chief towns and told me his first experience in the land. it was at a court ball, given by the gay and dashing king milan. the salon was awhirl with dancers when-click--something fell to the ground near the count's feet. a lady's jewel doubtless. he stooped and picked up a revolver cartridge. laughing, he showed it to an aide-de-camp near him, who saw no joke in the matter and referred it to king milan, who turned white and looked gravely anxious. and bollati for the first time realized the balkans. before i left cetinje it was officially announced that the marriage of prince mirko (prince nikola's second son) with mademoiselle natalie constantinovitch had been fixed for july o.s. ( ), and the faire parts were sent to the corps diplomatique. the bride was cousin to king alexander obrenovitch who had no direct heir. failing one, she was one of the nearest relations to the obrenovitch dynasty. the astute prince nikola, having married a daughter to the karageorge claimant to the throne, now strove to make assurance doubly sure by marrying a son to a possible rival candidate. my diary notes though: "it seems there has been a lot of bother about it and that it was nearly 'off' as papa constantinovitch required mirko to put down a considerable amount in florins. and mirko could not produce them. i suppose he has now borrowed on his expectation of the serbian throne. which is, i imagine, his only asset." i confess that at this time i did not know the balkans and saw all these doings humorously, as a comic operetta. but the comic operas of the balkans are written in blood and what was then fun to me was to end in a world tragedy. my route to belgrade was by boat to fiume and thence by rail via agram. on the boat i picked up a croatian lady and her daughter, who moped miserably in the hot and stuffy cabin till they ventured to ask my permission to sit with me on deck. "you are english, so the men will not dare annoy us," they said, "if we are with you." only english women, they declared, could travel as i did. the mere idea of a journey in serbia terrified them and they assured me it was quite impossible. and the cheap hotel in agram, to which they recommended me, was of the same opinion. the company there assured me that king alexander was drinking himself to death, and were loud in their expression of contempt for land and people. in those days union between croatia and serbia was possible only if croatia swallowed serbia. and not very long after i was in agram riots took place in which the serbs of the town were attacked and plundered. as the train lumbered over the plains north of the save, on the way to belgrade, my fellow travellers, too, thought i was bound on a mad and impossible errand. as is usual in the near east they all cross-examined me about my private affairs with boring persistency, and their verdict was that not even a british passport would see me through. "you will never see serbia," they declared. i did though. for, being wholly innocent of any plots, all the efforts of all the multitudinous police of serbia failed to turn me from my plan. "the wicked flee when no man pursueth, but the righteous is as bold as a lion." the train thundered over the iron bridge at night and deposited me in belgrade. i had to give up my passport and my troubles began. i had come to see serbia, and finally saw the whole of it and have described it in another book. but for obvious reasons i did not then recount all that befell me; i did not even understand it all. looking back on that tour i can only wonder at the dogged persistence with which i overcame all the obstacles which the serb police put in my way. short of forbidding me to travel they did all they could. in accordance with my promise to m. militchevitch, "to do nothing without consulting the british consul," i went to the consulate, where i found a nice young man, who had but recently arrived and seemed to know nothing whatever about the country. he was playing with a dachsdog and told me cheerfully i could go anywhere i liked "and none of them will dare touch you." but he warned me that it would be very expensive as carriages were two pounds a day. i suggested mildly that the land being a poor one this could not possibly be the regular charge, but that people sometimes had to pay extra for the privilege of being british consul; which apparently he had never thought of. it proved correct though. serbia in those days was the cheapest spot in europe. never again in all probability will the peasant be so well off. but before starting up country i meant to see belgrade, and began by asking at the hotel where the king was to be seen. for a king, in at any rate, was still an object of interest, and one of the "show sights" of most european countries. the waiter replied "you want to see our king? you won't see him. he dares not come out of the konak. he is probably drunk." nor in fact during the time i spent in belgrade did he ever come out. in belgrade the first thing i learnt was that i was "shadowed" by the police. to the uninitiated this is most uncanny. the same man keeps turning up. he does it very badly as a rule. you sit and have coffee on one side of a street and he sits and drinks beer at the restaurant opposite. you wander on and think: "what an ass i was to think he was following me!" and meet him at the next corner. most disquieting of all perhaps is to come suddenly out of your bedroom and almost tumble over him in the corridor. all these and more were my experiences in the first weeks of my tour. and always i said to myself in triumph: "they can't do anything to me for i have not done anything." i could not even buy a railway ticket for a day's outing without being cross-examined as to my purpose, my father, my uncles and other relatives. the officials in vain assured me that there was nothing to see in the place i wished to visit. i played the card which had succeeded with militchevitch and asked if it were dangerous. i could not enter a village without being at once asked by the local policeman for my passport. blankly ignorant of what was behind these proceedings i steadily pursued my way, smiling at all questions and supplying at demand long biographies of various members of my family. no; my father had not been in the diplomatic service, nor my uncles, nor brothers, nor cousins. no; none of them were officers. "i have come to see serbia," said i, in return to the enquiry of a police officer. "but what do you see?" he asked, gazing wildly round. "i see nothing!" every official i think in every village, saw my sketch book, demanded an explanation of why i had selected such things as wells, gravestones, carts and cottages to draw, and remained mystified. for the common objects of serbia were of no interest to them. i merely looked on all these vagaries as so many peculiar and silly serbian customs--wondered what the serbs would do if a hundred or so tourists appeared, for then there would not be enough police to go round--and did not allow myself to be ruffled even when three times in one day i had to show my passport to individuals who pounced down on me in the street. when i arrived at the' least bad hotel in nish the hotelier said he did not wish to be mixed up in the affair; gave me the worst room in the house and told me i had better leave by the first train next morning. i said i was going to stay and did. and explored nish conscious of "guardian angels" at my heels. but it was here that i realized that there was something sinister in the background, for so suspicious were the hotel people that when, for two days i was seriously unwell, not one of them would come in answer to my bell but an old woman, who flatly refused to bring me anything and never turned up again. i lived on brand's beef lozenges till i was well enough on the evening of the second day to crawl downstairs and bribe a waiter to fetch me some milk. once recovered i went to pirot by rail in spite of pressing requests that i would return to belgrade. i wanted to see the pirot carpet factories, but of course no one believed this. they all imagined, as i learnt later, that i was bound for bulgaria with evil intentions: messages from montenegro for the undoing of serbia. i was quite unaware at the time that prince ferdinand and prince nikola were plotting together. arrived at pirot it was obvious that i was considered dangerous. i was stopped in the station by police and military authorities, who had doubtless been warned of my arrival, and told that i was not to go near the bulgar frontier, much less cross it. only after some argument did they consent to let me stay two days in the town. then i was to leave for belgrade by the early morning train, and to make sure that i could not escape by any other route, they confiscated my passport and said it should be returned to me at the station when i left. tension between serbia and bulgaria was obviously extreme. by way of warning, i was told that a bulgar spy had just been caught and was in prison. but i had come to see the carpet making and i saw it. the carpets are very interesting. they are made in no other part of serbia and are in truth bulgarian in origin. pirot before its annexation to serbia in was an undoubtedly bulgar district. old books of travel call nish bulgar. in pirot a distinctly bulgar cast of countenance and build is to be seen. and the neighbouring peasants play the bagpipe, the typical bulgar instrument. the type extends not only into the south of serbia (of ), but in the east spreads over the timok. the population along the frontier and around zaitchar i found bulgar and roumanian, the flat-faced, heavily built bulgar with high cheekbones and lank black hair predominating--all being serbized, of course. having seen the carpet making at pirot, i obediently appeared at the railway station at the appointed time as bidden. suddenly, the whole atmosphere changed. the same officials who had received me so inimically now wanted me to stay! having first worn my quite respectable supply of patience almost threadbare, the serbs turned right round and did all they could to efface first impressions. the whole thing seemed to me childish and astonishing. but i profited largely by it and went the rest of my way in comparative comfort. by this time i had learnt that serbia was in a state of intense political tension, and that my ingenuous statement that i had come straight from cetinje had gone badly against me. stupid officials asked me so many leading questions that they revealed far more than they had learnt and showed me quite clearly that a plot to put prince mirko on the throne of serbia at no distant date, was believed to exist. that most wily of royal stud-grooms, prince nikola, had so married his family that he undoubtedly believed that "what he lost on the roundabouts he would gain on the swings," and that his position as head of great serbia was assured. having heard so much of the petrovitches as the natural lords of great serbia, this plan did not seem to me so unreasonable. but i soon found it had very little support in serbia. only in the extreme south--at ivanjitza, studenitza and thereabouts did i find montenegro at all popular. elsewhere it was looked on with jealousy and suspicion. the montenegrins, folk said, were incurably lazy and very dirty, and their immigration into the country was not desired. some montenegrin students came to the serbian schools, but were denounced as ungrateful and impossible. a montenegrin, i was told, was a lout who would sit all day on the doorstep wearing a revolver and doing nothing, and would expect high pay or at least good keep for so doing. in the serb government had actually forbidden the immigration of montenegrins. in brief, it was clear serbia would not accept a montenegrin prince at any price, and mirko's chances were nil. montenegro was despised. bulgaria was hated--was the enemy, always had been and always would be. but even after i had been accepted by the country strange things still happened. at kraljevo there was almost a fight over me between the nachelnik (mayor) who ordered me to leave next day, and a man to whom i had been given a letter of introduction. he said i should stay: the other that i was to go, and they shouted at each other till both were scarlet. when mentioning this later to a company of serbs they asked "what was the name of the man you had an introduction to?" i gave it. they exchanged glances. "that family was in trouble formerly about the murder of prince michel" was all that was said. he was in point of fact a partisan of the karageorgevitch family. and the mayor was a pro-obrenovitch. at kragujevatz i fell right into the karageorgevitch party. that i met them in strength in kragujevatz is now a matter of interest. at the time i little dreamed that from this straggling big village--it could hardly be called a town--would emanate bombs that would set europe on fire. the royal arsenal is at kragujevatz, and when i was there in the place was certainly a centre of disaffection. it was here that i was told outright that alexander must either divorce draga--or go. what was to follow was uncertain. they wished, if possible, to avoid a revolution. i was even begged to work a propaganda in favour of petar karageorgevitch in england. above all to write to the times, and my informants said they trusted to my honour not to betray their names. had i pursued the subject i have now little doubt that i might have learnt much more and even have got in touch with the leaders of the movement--if indeed i had not already fallen into their hands! but it was my first contact with a plot of any kind and i instinctively recoiled from having anything to do with it. it is almost impossible for those who have led a peaceful life to realize that real human blood is going to be shed. the thing sounded more like melodrama than real life. but it was definitely stated that "something was going to happen" and that i should watch the papers and see at no distant date. my new acquaintances were vexed that i should have$ been so harassed in the early stages of my journey, but oddly enough ascribed it not to the folly of their own officials, but to the fact that the british consul had not given me letters of introduction! "if your own consul will not guarantee you, of course it seems suspicious!" this remark alone is enough to show the abyss that separated serbia from west europe. politics in the near east are an obsession--a nervous disease which may end in acute dementia and homicidal mania. having decided to confide in me, folk then began pouring out disgusting tales about queen draga. so disgusting that i soon cut all tales short so soon as her name occurred. nor is it now necessary to rake up old muck-heaps. one point though is of interest. among many races all over the world there is a widespread belief that sexual immorality, whether in the form of adultery or incest will inevitably entail most serious consequences not only upon the guilty parties, but upon the community as a whole, and even menace the existence of a whole people. thebes, for example, suffered blight and pestilence owing to the incest of oedipus. i found it widely believed in serbia that before marrying alexander, draga had been his father's mistress and was told emphatically that the marriage must bring a curse. serbia could never flourish while she was on the throne. it is highly probable that though the subsequent murders were arranged and carried out for a definite political purpose by an organized gang, they were acquiesced in by the ignorant mass for the above reason--a genuine belief that there was a curse on the land that would be removed only by draga's death. the country, i was told, was in a terrible state. none of the officers had been paid for six months. draga, it was said, took all the money to buy diamonds. the wretched woman's little collection of jewellery which was sold at christie's after her death, proved, however, the falsity of this tale. but it doubtless accounted partly for the unbridled ferocity with which the military gang fell upon her. that there was not enough money to pay them seemed to me not surprising, for the land swarmed with officers. i was told that in proportion to its size there were more officers in serbia than in germany and noted in my diary at the time "the whole land seems eaten out of house and home with officers who seem to have nothing on earth to do but play cards. it is a great pity for the country. as soon as the peasants learn a little i expect they will turn socialist." an army is an expensive luxury and "satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do" is a true saying. serbia has paid dearly for the lot of swankers, clad in most unnecessarily expensive uniforms, whom i saw gambling in the cafes from morning till night. all these points are noteworthy in the light of the present. one other may yet strongly influence the future of the serb race. that is their religious fanaticism, which then surprised me. it was not astonishing that the serbs hated islam, but that they should fiercely hate every other christian church i did not expect. it is but one more instance of the fact that it was largely to the fanaticism of the orthodox church that the balkan people owed their conquest by the turks. evidence enough there is to show that when their fate was in the balance the orthodox of the balkans regarded the turk as a lesser evil than the pope. even in , though a few mosques were still permitted to exist, no catholic church was tolerated save that attached to one of the legations over which, of course, the serb government had no control. most of the foreign women i met, who had married serbs, told me frankly that for the sake of peace they had had to join the orthodox church; "you cannot live here unless you do." the american missionaries who have done so much for bulgaria and were permitted to work freely under the tolerant turk, were only allowed to travel through serbia on condition they held no services. i was astonished at the intense bitterness with which the ex-queen natalie's conversion to rome was spoken of. as the poor woman had led a wretched life in serbia and had left it for ever, her religion could be no concern whatever now of the serbs. but it seemed to be considered on all sides as an insult to the nation. nor was it, so far as i could see, because the people were devout believers--the upper classes certainly did not appear to be--but because the church was serbian, and represented a frenzied and intolerant nationalism. to such an extent was this carried out that a catholic albanian, of whom i subsequently saw a good deal, had to add "itch" to the end of his name and conform to the orthodox church outwardly in order to obtain leave to open a shop in belgrade. that frenzied nationalism and not religion is at the base of this intolerance is further proved by hatred of the serb for the bulgarian church, which on all points of dogma and doctrine and in its services is precisely the same as that of the serbs. and this same frenzied nationalism, if persisted in, may yet lead to serbia's undoing. on looking back i see that my tour in serbia was a turning point in my balkan studies. till then the balkans had been a happy hunting ground filled by picturesque and amusing people, in which to collect tales, sketch and forget home miseries for a time in a quite new world. i left serbia with very mixed feelings. much of the tour i had enjoyed. after the police difficulties of the beginning i had met with great hospitality and much kindness and it is always a pleasure to penetrate an unknown land, ride through great forests and see the new view open at the top of the pass. when the belgrade police visaed my passport for the last time they bade me a friendly farewell. but i was severely disillusioned as to great serbia. instead of brethren pining to be united, i had found a mass of dark intrigue--darker than i then knew--envy, hatred and all uncharitableness. no love was lost between serb and montenegrin. alexander was to divorce his wife or go. "something" would happen soon. and i knew that if prince mirko really aspired to the throne of serbia he would be disappointed--no matter which way the cat hopped. the balkans were in future to be to me a sphinx--an asker of ceaseless riddles each of which led to one yet more complicated; riddles which it took long to solve. the riddle of my strange reception in serbia was not explained until four years afterwards. and the tale fits in rightly here. it was militchevitch who told me--he who had signed my passport in the spring of . i did not see him again till . "i have been reading your book," he said. "i wondered if you had noticed what happened. i see you did at once." "noticed what!" i asked. "that from the time you left pirot you were differently treated." he laughed. "now it is all over long ago you may as well know. you have no idea the excitement you caused. the serbian government spent a small fortune in cypher telegrams about you." and he told this astonishing tale: among the banished members of the karageorgevitch family was a certain woman who came to england and studied at an english college. she wore her hair short. when therefore i arrived at belgrade, as ignorant as any babe of the dark undercurrent of politics, the serbian police at once leapt to the conclusion that i was the lady in question come on a political errand. my passport bothered them as they could find no flaw in it. it was arranged to keep me under supervision and militchevitch was at once telegraphed to. what did he know about the so-called englishwoman whose passport he had signed? he could only reply "nothing." followed an angry telegram asking what business he had to sign the passports of people of whom he knew nothing, and that in fact he had let one of the karageorgevitch gang get into the country, who was about to be arrested. much alarmed, he replied that he was under the impression i was certainly english, and that it would be rash in the highest degree to arrest me without further evidence. they then did all they could to prevent my tour, short of forbidding it. my imperturbable persistence thwarted them. telegrams flew backwards and forwards. london to belgrade, belgrade to london. militchevitch was ordered to make enquiries about me of the police, who knew nothing at all about me, which surprised him. he ascertained, however, that persons of my name actually lived at the address i had given and were locally of good repute. he implored that my arrest--which was imminent--should be delayed lest international complications ensued. why the serb authorities did not impart their doubts to the british consulate in belgrade must remain a balkan mystery. instead of doing so the serb police replied, "we are having her followed everywhere. the names of all she speaks to are noted. she goes everywhere. she talks to any one who will talk to her. she draws all kinds of things for what purpose we cannot ascertain. she speaks serbian very badly, but it is evident she does so on purpose and that she understands everything." my arrest was almost decided on, when some one had a brilliant idea. a photograph of the suspected serbian lady was somehow obtained in england and militchevitch was then able to swear that it had no resemblance to the englishwoman whose passport he had signed. serbia was saved--that time! i was then in pirot. orders at once flew over the country that the treatment should be at once reversed and that the unpleasant impression that had been produced should be, as far as possible, obliterated. the episode gives a clear idea of the state of nervous tension that existed. the sublime folly of the serbian police consisted in thinking that if i were really an agent of prince mirko, bringing messages and intending to take them on to sofia i should have been such a fool as to tell every one i met that i had just come from cetinje. but perhaps they judged others by themselves. the semi-oriental mind is born to suspicion and can conceive of no straightforward action. in truth "dora" hails from the near east. is not her very name of greek origin? to me it was a useful experience for it hardened me to being "shadowed," and i bore it serenely ever afterwards. so much so in fact that when in at marseilles i was twice cross-examined by the french intelligence officers and three times and very minutely, by the english ones, i thought it funny, which surprised them. they would have been still more surprised had i told them that they reminded me of the police of belgrade, and asked them why they were called "intelligence." their efforts were as vain as those of their serb forerunners and for the same reason. i had no plots to reveal. chapter five. what was behind it all it is a strange desire to seeke power and to lose libertie. . . . the standing is slippery, and the regresse is either a downefall, or at least an eclipse. which is a melancholy thing.--bacon. i went to serbia as a tourist, but, thanks to the misdirected energy of the serb police, was made aware for the first time of the unseen forces which were at work in the balkans. what these forces were we must now consider. since the end of the seventeenth century russia and austria had competed for expansion into the balkans. each had gone to war nominally, "to free christians from the turkish yoke," but actually in order to annex these populations themselves. each, by promoting risings in turkish territory and by financing rival balkan sovereigns, had silently and ceaselessly worked towards the same goal. in the great game montenegro, as we have seen, hall been russia's pawn since the days when peter the great sent his envoy to vladika danilo. montenegro had become russia's outpost in the west. russia was montenegro's god--and her paymaster. "the dog barks for him that feeds him!" says an albanian proverb. montenegro barked, and bit too, at russia's behest. serbia throughout the nineteenth century was rent by the ceaseless blood-feud between the karageorgevitches and the obrenovitches, a history bloody as that of the turkish sultans, the results of which are not yet over--one that has so largely influenced the fate of yet unborn generations that we must understand its outlines in order to follow modern events. serbia, at the end of the eighteenth century, was bitterly oppressed, not so much by the turkish government, as by the jannisaries, the insolent and all powerful military organization which had broken loose from restraint and was now a danger to the turkish empire. the jannisaries actually elected their own chiefs and were semi-independent. and of all the jannisaries of the empire none were more opposed to the sultan than those of belgrade. their commanders called themselves dahis and aimed at complete government of the province. it is a singular fact, and one which should be emphasized, that the jannisaries were themselves to a very large extent, of balkan origin. their ancestors had been either forcibly converted or had, as was not infrequent, voluntarily adopted islam. the moslem serb was a far greater persecutor of the christian serb than was the turk. we find that the leading dahis of belgrade hailed from focha in the herzegovina. sultan selim in, terrified of the growing power of these jannisaries, sided with his christian subjects, sent troops against them, and forcibly evicted them from belgrade. a turkish pasha, hadji mustafa, was appointed as governor, whose rule was so just and beneficent that the land was soon at peace and the grateful serbs called him "srpska majka"--the serbian mother. but the jannisaries had retired only as far as widin which was commanded by the brigand leader pasvanoglu, whose savage hordes were devastating the country-side in defiance of the government. together they attacked the serbs. hadji mustafa, true to his trust, organized the serbs to resist. the serbs were now by no means untrained to war, for many had served in the austrian army during the late campaigns against the turks. but the spectacle of a turkish pasha inciting christian rayah against an army of moslems aroused the wrath of the faithful throughout the empire. they demanded the deposition of hadji mustafa and the re-admission of the jannisaries to belgrade. the sultan was unable to resist and the jannisaries returned. thirsting to avenge the humiliation of their forced retirement they assassinated hadji mustafa, seized power, and to prevent a further serb rising, fell upon the serb villages and murdered numbers of the headmen. by so doing they precipitated what they wished to prevent. the serbs rose in mass and called karageorge, grandfather of the present king peter of serbia, to be their leader. he refused at first, saying that his violent temper would cause him to kill without taking council first. but he was told that the times called for violence. born of peasant stock about , his upbringing was crudely savage; his ferocity was shown from the first. in a panic seized the peasants when an austrian attack upon the turks was expected. to save themselves and their flocks from the approaching turkish army they fled in crowds, hurrying to cross the save and finding safety in austria. george's father was very reluctant to go, and on reaching the river would not cross it. george, in a blind fury, refusing either to stay himself and make terms with the turks, or to leave his father behind, snatched the pistol from his sash and shot the old man down. then, shouting to a comrade to give his father a death-blow, for he was still writhing, george hurried on, leaving behind him a few cattle to pay for the burial and the funeral feast. on his return later to serbia he took to the mountains for some time as a heyduk or brigand. such was the man called on to lead the serbs. rough and completely uneducated, he yet possessed that strange power of influencing men which constitutes a born leader. his practice as a heyduk and a natural capacity for strategy enabled him for long to wage successful guerrilla warfare, which baffled the turks. the dense forests and the roadless mountains were natural fortresses of which he made full use. alternating with astonishing outbursts of energy and ferocity, were periods of sullen silence during which he sat for days without speaking, gnawing his nails. that there was a strain of insanity in his genius appears certain--an insanity which has reappeared in his great-grandson and namesake who, subject to similar fits of loss of control, used to terrorise the populace by galloping furiously through village streets, and was finally forced to abdicate his right to the throne in march , after the brutal murder of his valet. a case worth the study of students of heredity. a contemporary of old karageorge thus describes him: "his bold forehead bound with a tress of black hair gave him a look rather asiatic than european. . . . this man was one of the bold creations of wild countries and troublous times--beings of impetuous courage, iron strength, original talent and doubtful morality." the might of his personality overcame all obstacles. he appealed to russia for aid, and a russian minister was sent to serbia along with money and men. he freed and ruled over a large tract of land. but his rule was not much milder than that of the jannisaries, and his harsh tyranny made him many enemies. when his wrath was once aroused it was unrestrainable, and he struck down and killed many of his own followers. discontent arose and spread. the serbs divided into many parties, each with rival leaders. russia, who had supported karageorge, was now herself engaged in a life and death struggle with napoleon. the russian regiment which had been quartered at belgrade, left the country. the turn of the turks had now come. they attacked the serbs in force. with no aid from without to be hoped for, the country was in greater danger than ever. but even common danger, as history has again and again shown, does not suffice to cure that fatal slav weakness--the tendency to split into rival parties led by jealous chieftains. there was no union among the serb forces now, at the very hour when it was most needed. and for some never explained reason karageorge failed to appear. his voyvodas struggled with the foe and were beaten back and suddenly, in october , karageorge, the chosen leader of the serbian people, fled into austria with a few followers, without even having struck a blow. this tragic and most fatal failure was due in all probability, to a mental collapse to which his unstable and unbalanced nature would be peculiarly liable. the austrians promptly interned both him and his men in fortresses, but released them at the intercession of russia, and they retired into bessarabia. meanwhile, his place was taken by milosh obrenovitch, also a peasant, who led the serb rising of with such success that he was recognized as ruler, under turkish suzerainty, of a considerable territory. and as a ruler, moreover, with hereditary rights. it is said that russia never forgave the obrenovitches that they were appointed by the sultan and not by herself. scarcely was milosh well established when karageorge returned from his long absence. the break-up of the turkish empire had begun. the greeks were in a ferment. russia supported them. the hetairia had been formed and a plan was afoot for a great simultaneous rising of greeks and serbs and roumanians. karageorge was to be one of its leaders. but milosh was in power, id did not mean to relinquish it. and he dreamed already of wide empire. he examined the question with sangfroid and decided that if the greek revolution succeeded in its hopes, an empire would be reborn in the east which would regard serbia as its province and might be more dangerous than the turk. did not the greeks, in the fourteenth century, call the turks to europe to fight the "tsar of macedonia who loves christ?" milosh remained faithful to the turk, saying "let us remain in turkey and profit by her mistakes." he suppressed all pro-greek action, executed twenty pro-greek conspirators, and exposed their bodies at the roadside, and--in an evil hour for serbia--had karageorge assassinated and sent his head to the pasha. from that day onward the feud between the two houses raged with ever increasing fury. until to-day every ruler of serbia has been either exiled, murdered, or has had his life attempted. "family tradition comes first" says vladan georgevitch. "all the families of serbia have, from the beginning, been followers of either the karageorgevitches or the obrenovitches." as time went on, the obrenovitches became the choice of austria, while russia supported the karageorges, and the puppets jigged as the great powers pulled the wires. milosh's subjects revolted against his intolerable tyranny and exiled him in . his son michel succeeded him, a cultivated man who strove to introduce austrian educational methods. he was evicted in , and the karageorges again swung into power. alexander, father of king petar, was put on the throne, only in his turn to be chased out in . and old milosh came back and died in --fortunately for himself perhaps--for he was the same old milosh, and his renewed tyranny was again provoking wrath. serbia had now come to a parting of the ways. there was a prince of either line, and each had already occupied the throne. michel obrenovitch was re-elected. all agree that he was the most enlightened prince that had as yet occupied the throne, but the blood of old black george was unavenged, and michel paid the penalty. he and his cousin, madame constantinovitch, and his aide-de-camp were all assassinated on june , , in the park near belgrade. so set were the murderers on fulfilling their task that they hacked their victim's body with forty wounds. the complicity of alexander karageorgevitch and his son petar--now king --was proved. the plot was engineered by means of alexander's lawyer, radovanovitch. the shkupstina hastily summoned demanded the extradition of the two karageorgevitches of austria, whither they had fled, and failing to obtain it outlawed them and all their house for ever and ever, and declared their property forfeit to the state. fifteen accomplices arrested in serbia were found guilty and executed with a barbarity which roused european indignation. we can scarcely doubt what would have been the fate of the two principals had they fallen into serb hands. the grotesque fact remains that it is to austria that king petar owes not only his crown, but his life! it was an odd fate that thirty years afterwards gave me an introduction to a relative of one of the conspirators, and almost caused a fight to take place over me at kraljevo. the karageorgevitches having been exiled by the unanimous vote of the shkupstina for ever--till next time--milan, cousin of the murdered michel, succeeded him on the throne at the age of fourteen. and there was a regency till . milan was a handsome dashing fellow with not too much brain--a typical, boastful, immoral serb officer. as a result of the russo-turkish war of , in which, however, he displayed little military skill, serbia was raised from a principality to a kingdom. russia at this time showed little or no interest in serbia. she was devoting all her energy and diplomacy to the creation of a big bulgaria, which should ultimately serve her as a land-bridge to the coveted constantinople. she had no use then for serbia, and was no friend of the obrenovitches, and in the treaty of san stefano dealt so scurvily by serbia that prince milan opposed the treaty and said he would defend nish against russian troops if necessary. at the berlin congress, milan called for and obtained a good deal more land than russia had allotted him--territory which was, in fact, bulgar and albanian. he, moreover, made a convention with austria by which the frontiers and dynasty of serbia were guaranteed. one of those many "scraps of paper" which fill the world's waste paper basket. it was now plain that milan, if allowed to gain more power, would be an obstacle to pan-slavism in the balkans. the claims of the disinherited and exiled petar karageorgevitch began to be talked of. nikola pashitch, hereafter to be connected with a long series of crimes, now appears on the scenes. of macedonian origin, he soon became one of russia's tools, and was leader of the so-called radical party, though "pro-russian" would be a more descriptive title. it was "radical" only in the sense that it was bent on rooting up any that opposed it. things began to move. in prince nikola married his daughter to petar karageorgevitch, and that same year a revolt in favour of petar broke out at the garrison town of zaitshar. oddly enough it was at zaitshar in that i was most pestered by the officers to declare whom i thought should ascend the serbian throne should alexander die childless. by that time i was wary and put them off by saying "the prince of wales!" i have often wondered how many of those suspicious and swaggering officers were among those who next year flung the yet palpitating bodies of alexander and draga from the konak windows while the russian minister looked on. the revolt of was quickly crushed and pashitch, along with some other conspirators, fled into bulgaria for protection. others were arrested in serbia and executed. the pro-russian movement was checked for a time. pashitch owed his life to bulgaria, and not on this occasion only. his subsequent conduct to that land has not been marked with gratitude. chapter six. the great serbian idea "oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive."--scott. the great serbian idea--the scheme for the reconstruction of tsar dushan's mediaeval empire--now began to sprout and germinate. in truth that empire had been constructed by dushan by means of mercenary armies, partly german, by aid of which he temporarily subdued bosnians, albanians, bulgars and greeks. and he paid those armies by means of the silver mines, worked largely by italians. great serbia was an incoherent mass of different and hostile races, and it broke to pieces immediately on his death. but five centuries of turkish rule in no way modified the hate which one balkan race bore for another. each, on gaining freedom, had but one idea--to overthrow and rule the other. milosh obrenovitch had already begun to toy with the great serbian idea when he refused to support the greeks in their struggle for freedom. the success of the wars of - raised fresh ambitions. but now there were two possible heads for great serbia--milan obrenovitch, who had been raised to kingship, and who owed his position to austria; and nikola petrovitch, recognized as prince of an independent land, and "the only friend" of the tsar of all the russias. the bitter rivalry, not yet extinct, between the two branches of the serb race--serbia and montenegro--now began. one thing the serb people have never forgotten and that is that in dushan's reign bulgaria was serbia's vassal. the reconstruction simultaneously of big bulgaria and great serbia is impossible. and neither race has as yet admitted that a middle course is the safest. the zaitshar affair had shown king milan pretty clearly that the blood of the murdered karageorge still howled for vengeance. his position was further complicated by the fact that his beautiful russian wife, natalie, was an ardent supporter of the plans of her fatherland. he made a bold bid for popularity. filled with exaggerated ideas of his own prowess, and flushed by victories over the turks, he rushed to begin reconstructing great serbia by attacking bulgaria, which, though newly formed, had already shown signs of consolidating and becoming a stumbling block in serbia's path to glory. the declaration of war was immensely popular. had milan succeeded, the fate of the obrenovitches might have been very different. but he and his army were so badly beaten that only swift intervention by austria saved serbia from destruction. pashitch, it should be noted, remained in bulgaria during this war, and in fact owed his life to that country which he has since done so much to ruin. the pieces on the balkan chessboard then stood thus: a serbia which was the most bitter enemy of bulgaria and whose king was austrophile. a violently pro-russian montenegro, filled with contempt for the beaten serbs, and ruled by a prince who regarded himself confidently as the god-appointed restorer of great serbia, and who was openly supporting his new son-in-law, the rival claimant to the serb throne. the throne of serbia, never too stable, now rocked badly. king milan declared that pan-slavism was the enemy of serbia and he was certainly right. for in those days it would have simply meant complete domination by russia--the great predatory power whose maw has never yet been filled. he pardoned pashitch, thinking possibly it was better to come to terms with him than to have him plotting in an enemy country, pashitch returned as head of the radical party and serbia became a hot-bed of foul and unscrupulous intrigue into which we need not dig now. between the partisans of russia and austria, serbia was nearly torn in half. after incessant quarrels with his russian wife, milan in divorced her--more or less irregularly--and in the following year threw up the game and abdicated in favour of his only legitimate child, the ill-fated alexander who was then but fourteen. torn this way and that by his parents' quarrels, brought up in the notoriously corrupt court of belgrade and by nature, according to the accounts of those who knew him, of but poor mental calibre, alexander is, perhaps, to be as much pitied as blamed. his nerves, so mr. chedo miyatovitch told me, never recovered from the shock of a boating accident when young. he was the last and decadent scion of the obrenovitches and was marked down from his accession. vladan georgevitch, who was prime minister of serbia from till , in his book the end of a dynasty, throws much light on the events that led up to the final catastrophe. it is highly significant that after its publication he was sentenced to six months' imprisonment, not for libel or false statements, but "on a charge of having acted injuriously to serbia by publishing state secrets." his account is therefore in all probability correct. he begins by relating prince alexander's visit to montenegro shortly after the termination of the regency. here the astute prince nikola tried to persuade him to marry princess xenia. princess zorka was dead; prince nikola had quarrelled rather badly with his son-in-law, petar karageorgevitch, and, it would appear, meant to lose no chance of obtaining a matrimonial alliance with any and every possible claimant to the serbian throne. alexander would not consent to the match, and stated that his object in visiting montenegro was to bring about a political alliance between that country and serbia in order to defend serb schools and churches in turkish territory and generally protect serb interests. this nikola refused unless the said lands were definitely partitioned into "spheres of interest" and prizren were included in his own. he was already determined to occupy the throne of stefan dushan. the two ministers who accompanied alexander supported this claim. "i tell you," says alexander, "these two men when with me at cetinje acted not as ministers of mine, but as ministers of the prince of montenegro." he denounced such a division of the territory and the negotiations broke off. the visit to montenegro was a failure. some years afterwards in montenegro i was told triumphantly that the match would not have been at all suitable for princess xenia and that her father had refused it on the grounds that "no king of serbia has yet died except by murder, or in exile." but the death of alexander was then already planned--though i of course did not know it--and alexander's version of the affair is more probably correct. in the nets began to close round the wretched youth. russia made up her long quarrel with bulgaria and enlisted a new foe to the obrenovitches--prince ferdinand. she had long refused to recognize this astute and capable prince who was rapidly raising bulgaria to an important position in the balkans, and now decided to make use of him. the benefits might be mutual, for without russian support ferdinand could not hope to reconstruct the big bulgaria of the middle ages. russia cynically used either bulgaria or serbia as best suited her purpose at the moment. in august of the same year russia further strengthened her position by her alliance with france, who at once obediently ranged herself against the obrenovitches. in the following october, alexander appointed vladan georgevitch prime minister, and bade him form a government. the merits or demerits of this government we need not trouble about. what is of interest is that it was at once attacked by the french press. the temps accused vladan of secret understandings with goluchowsky and kallay, before forming it. the courier de soir thought that "such a policy is the result of the triple alliance and is an offence to the balance of europe." serbia apparently was to be used as the determining weight on the european scales. la souverainte went farther and said boldly: "the moment has come when tsar nicholas should show the same firmness of character as his father showed to the battenburg and coburg in bulgaria!" the nova vremya declared "that the new government clearly meant to bring serbia into economic dependence on austria-hungary." and most of the newspapers of europe announced the fact that the tsar had granted an audience to prince petar karageorgevitch and had conversed with him on the critical state of serbia. vladan then recommended to alexander the rash plan of inviting general von der golte to xmdertake the reform of the serb army as he had done that of turkey. the plan pleased von der goltz, but was dropped in consequence of the violent anti-serb campaign which it aroused in the french press. the serb minister in paris, garashanin, tried to buy some of the french papers, but had to report to his government that this was impossible so long as serbia was hostile to russia. france was paying the russian piper--but it was the piper that called the tune. the russo-french policy of ringing in the central powers was already aimed at. the wretched alexander, not knowing whom to trust, nor where to turn, then begged his exiled father to return from austria and take command of the army. milan did so and russia was more than ever furious. warnings were now frequently received that russia was planning the deaths of both milan and alexander. one such warning was sent by the berlin foreign office. in may nikola pashitch, who had been working an anti-obrenovitch propaganda in bulgaria, was again in serbia, and led the radical party in the general elections. the government, however, won by a large majority. his work in bulgaria seems to have been effective for in june the serb minister to sofia sent in a very important report to his government: . that russia was determined that milan should leave serbia. . that prince ferdinand was willing to support russia in this way by any means--even bad ones. . that the princes of montenegro and bulgaria were co-operating. shortly afterwards ferdinand of bulgaria, nikola of montenegro, the russian minister and the bulgarian diplomatic agent to cetinje all met at abbazia. and ferdinand is reported to have promised nikola the support of his army to overthrow the obrenovitches with a view to finally uniting montenegro, serbia, bosnia and the herzegovina into one state with nikola as head. nikola began to sow the ground by starting a newspaper which attacked austrian policy in bosnia severely. this is a most important turning point in balkan history, and we shall see many results. mr. j. d. bourchier, whose knowledge of bulgarian affairs is unrivalled, has further told me that not only did montenegro and bulgaria work together for a long while, but bulgaria also supplied montenegro with much money--she was, in fact, another of the many states who have put money into montenegro--and lost it. things soon began to move. prince nikola got in touch with the radical party in serbia and they began to prepare the downfall of the obrenovitches. bulgaria refortified her serbian frontier. the narodni listy of prague described prince nikola as the only true serb upon a throne. king alexander proposed at this time to visit queen victoria, but was informed by lord salisbury that her majesty's health had already obliged her to decline other visits and she was therefore unable to receive him. the serb government then complained that queen victoria had conferred a high order on prince nikola, who was but a vassal of russia, and had given nothing to the king of serbia. some papers even declared she had shown preference to nikola precisely on account of his pro-russian tendencies. russia showed her feelings plainly. the tsar at a reception spoke sharply to the serbian minister and ignored the new serbian military attache who had come to be presented. tension between serbia and montenegro was now acute. large numbers of montenegrins had been emigrating into serbia attracted by the better livelihood to be obtained. the serb government in october formally notified montenegro that this immigration must cease. no more land was available for montenegrins. the magyar orsyagu went so far as to say "montenegrin agents wander over serbia with their propaganda and serbia has therefore forbidden the further settlement of montenegrins in serbia." pashitch again came to the fore and was sentenced to nine months' imprisonment for publishing an offensive letter to the ex-king milan. and in november a plot, alleged to be bulgaro-montenegrin, against milan, was discovered. russia was furious that milan, in spite of these warnings, remained in serbia. and in july he was fired at and slightly wounded. milan insisted on martial law being proclaimed and many arrests were made. the would-be assassin was a young bosnian--knezhevitch. the times spoke of the conspiracy as a russo-bulgarian one. it is stated to have been planned in bucarest by arsene karageorgevitch and a russian agent. pashitch, who since had been in close connection with the karageorges, was accused of complicity and milan insisted on his execution. his guilt was by no means proved and he was finally sentenced to five years' imprisonment, but at once pardoned by alexander. in reply he telegraphed, "i hasten in a moment so happy and so solemn for my family, to lay before your majesty my sincere and humble gratitude for the very great mercy which you, sire, have shown me from the height of your throne. i declare to you, sire, that i will, in future . . . give my whole soul to strengthening that order in the state which your majesty introduced in , from which, thanks to your distinguished father, king milan, as commander-in-chief of the army, the country has derived so much benefit." he further promised to put the remainder of his life to the exclusive service of king alexander and his country, and ends with, "long live the hope of the serb nation, your majesty our lord and king alexander!" signed, "the most sincere and devoted servant of the house of obrenovitch and the throne of your majesty, nikola pashitch." this amazing telegram caused consternation in russia. and well it might. the annals of crime scarcely contain a more gross example of perjury. we now enter upon the last act of the sordid drama. for several years alexander had kept a mistress, madame draga maschin, nee lungevitza, the widow of a serbian officer. she was a handsome woman, considerably older than alexander, and possessed such a hold over him that the more credulous of the serbs--including an ex-minister to the court at st. james's--believed that she had bewitched him by means of a spell made by a gypsy woman who had chopped some of draga's hair fine and made a mixture which she put into alexander's food. only by magic, i have been assured, could such results have been obtained. alexander "was crazy about her." the serbs are not particular about morals by any means. but this liaison was a national misfortune especially to all supporters of the obrenovitches. not only under these circumstances could there be no legitimate heir to the throne but a matrimonial alliance with one of the great powers was desired by the country. by the situation had become acute. the spectacle of alexander waiting in the street till draga chose to admit him was a national scandal. he was repeatedly approached on the subject, both by his father and the nation, but draga held him in a firm grip. enmeshed as he knew he was in hostile intrigues, surrounded by spies and traitors, and himself a fool at best, maybe the luckless youth regarded her indeed as the one human creature for whom he had any affection or trust. be that as it may alexander, under her influence, promised his father and vladan georgevitch that he would marry if a suitable match could be arranged. he persuaded them to leave the country to visit a foreign court with this object, and so soon as they had gone he publicly and formally announced his betrothal to draga, and informed his father of the fact by letter. milan, horrified, replied that the dynasty would not survive the blow, and that even a mere lieutenant would scorn such a match. the russian minister mansurov, however, called at once to offer his congratulations to alexander, and called also upon draga. it has even been suggested that russia arranged the affair, and that draga was her tool. this is, however, improbable. it was more likely the achievement of an ambitious and most foolish woman. but that russia jumped at it as the very best means of compassing alexander's ruin cannot be doubted, for no less a person than the tsar accepted the post of kum (godfather) at the wedding, thus publicly announcing his approval of the marriage at which he was represented by a proxy, when it was celebrated at belgrade shortly afterwards. alexander never saw either of his parents again. milan resigned the command of the army and retired to austria and his stormy and variegated career came to an end in the following year. he was only forty-seven at the time of his death, but had compressed into those years an amount of adventure unusual even in the balkans. alexander's marriage, as doubtless foreseen by russia, soon proved disastrous. draga, having achieved her ambition and mounted the throne, showed none of the ability of theodora. clever enough to captivate the feeble-minded alexander, she was too stupid to realize that her only chance lay in gaining the popularity of the people who were none too well disposed. with incredible folly, before in any way consolidating her position, she formed a plot worthy only of a second-rate cinematograph, pretended pregnancy and planned to foist a "supposititious child" upon the nation. a plan, foredoomed by its folly to failure, which brought down on her the contempt and ridicule not only of serbia, but of all europe. such was the history of serbia up to the date when i plunged into it and found it on the verge of a crisis. chapter seven and what happened for leagues within a state are ever pernicious to monarchic. early in i received an invitation to stay with certain of the partisans of the karageorgevitches in serbia. the "something" that was to happen had not yet come to pass. my sister wished to travel with me, and my experiences of last year were not such as to lead me to take her to serbia. one takes risks without hesitation when alone, into which one cannot drag a comrade. we went to montenegro. it was hot even at cetinje. we were resting in one of the back bedrooms of the hotel on the afternoon of june , when there came a loud knocking at the door and the voice of ivan, the waiter, crying "telegramme, telegramme." we jumped up at once, fearing bad news, and stvane cried excitedly as i opened the door, "the king and queen of serbia are both dead!" my brain re-acted instantly. the "something" had happened, the crisis had come. without pausing a minute to reflect, i said: "then petar karageorgevitch will be king!" "no, no," cried ivan; "every one says it will be our prince mirko!" "no," said i decidedly, for i was quite certain, "it will not be mirko"; and i asked "how did they die?" "god knows," said he; "some say they quarrelled and one shot the other and then committed suicide. and it will be mirko, gospodjitza. there was an article in the paper about it only the other day." he ran off and fetched a paper. i regret now that i took no note what paper it was, but it certainly contained an article naming mirko as heir to the serb throne, supposing alexander to die without issue. cetinje was excited as never before. ordinarily, it lived on one telegram a day from the correspondenz bureau. now the boys ran to and fro the telegraph office and bulletins poured in. one of the earliest stated that the king and queen had died suddenly, cause of death unknown, but bullet wounds found in the bodies. later came full details. according to belgrade papers a revolution had been planning for three months and there were secret committees all over the country; that the decision to slaughter both king and queen had been taken by the corps of officers at belgrade, and the work entrusted to the th infantry regiment; that the band of assassins gained access to the palace at p.m.; and, as the king refused to open the door of his bedroom, it was blown in by colonel naumovitch with a dynamite cartridge the explosion of which killed its user. what followed was a shambles. the bodies of the victims, still breathing, but riddled with bullets, were pitched from the window. draga, fortunately for herself, expired at once. but the luckless alexander lingered till a.m. according to current report the assassins, drunk with wine and blood, fell on the bodies and defiled them most filthily, even cutting portions of draga's skin, which they dried and preserved as trophies. an officer later showed a friend of mine a bit which he kept in his pocket book. alexander was a degenerate. his removal may have been desirable. but not even in dahomey could it have been accomplished with more repulsive savagery. and the russian minister, whose house was opposite the konak, calmly watched the events from his window. having wreaked their fury on the bodies, the assassins rushed to kill also draga's two brothers, one of whom it was rumoured was to be declared heir to the throne by alexander. some seventeen others were murdered that night and many wounded. these details we learned later. the afternoon of the th passed with excitement enough. evening came and we went in to dinner. upon each table, in place of the usual programme of the evening's performance at the theatre, lay a black edged sheet of paper informing us that the serbian travelling company then playing in cetinje "in consequence of the death of our beloved sovereign king alexander" had closed the theatre till further notice. the tourist table was occupied solely by my sister and myself; the diplomatic one solely by mr. shipley, who was temporarily representing england, and count bollati, the italian minister. dinner passed in complete silence. i was aching to have the opinion of the exalted persons at the other table on the startling news, but dared not broach so delicate a subject. the end came however. the servants withdrew and count bollati turned to me and said suddenly: "now, mademoiselle, you know these countries what do you think of the situation?" "petar karageorgevitch will be made king." "people here all say it will be mirko," said mr. shipley. count bollati maintained it would be a republic. i told them the facts i had learned in serbia, and said that petar was practically a certainty. they were both much interested. "in any case," said mr. shipley, "i should advise you to say nothing about it here. they are all for mirko and you may get yourself into trouble." "i have never seen them so excited," put in the count. "you are too late," said i; "i've told them already, mirko has not a chance. he had better know the truth. you will see in a few days." both gentlemen expressed horror at the crudity of my methods. as a matter of fact a good deal of international misunderstanding could be avoided if the truth were always blurted out at once. the italian thought i was stark mad. the englishman, having a sense of humour, laughed and said, as i well recollect: "your mission in life seems to be to tell home truths to the balkans. it is very good for them. but i wonder that they put up with it." both gentlemen commented on the grim matter-of-factness of the telegrams. "business carried on usual during the alterations," said bollati. his blood was badly curdled by the fact that when he was in belgrade he was well acquainted with colonel mashin, the ill-fated draga's brother-in-law, who--according to the telegrams--had finished her off with a hatchet. "and i have shaken hands with him!" said bollati, disgustedly. mr. shipley suggested that as i had first hand information i had better write an article or two for the english papers; which i did at once. "it is an ill wind that blows nobody any good." i had written my first balkan book and hawked it unsuccessfully round the publishers, who told me that as nobody in england took the faintest interest in the balkans, they could not take it, though they kindly added that as travels went it was not so bad. but the assassination of a king appealed at once to the great heart of the british people and i sold that book as an immediate result. this, by the way. i came down early next morning to post the articles written overnight, and found a whole crowd of officers and intelligentsia (for in no land are these necessarily the same) around the hotel door. vuko vuletitch, the hotelier, in his green, red-embroidered coat, was haranguing them from the doorstep with the latest telegram in his hand. loud and lively discussion filled the air. vuko waved his hand as i approached. "here," he said, "is the gospodjitza who says petar karageorgevitch will be king." i repeated my belief cheerfully: "your man is elected!" cried vuko, holding up the telegram. the news had arrived. mirko's hopes were hopelessly dashed. the accuracy of my information caused a small sensation and i acquired a great reputation for political knowledge. vuko never failed to ask me in future what i made of the situation. it was the morning of the th when this news came in. officially, petar was not elected till the th, and then not by a really legal method. the military gang having chosen him, summoned a parliament which had already been legally dissolved and was therefore non-existent, and caused it to ratify the choice. whence it has been maintained by many that king petar never was legally elected. the th, th, and th passed quietly, though there was a certain air of disappointment. more details came in. murder is bound to be unlovely. this one was peculiarly so. one fact was prominent. and that was that although many persons expressed horror of the methods and condemned the treachery of officers who had sworn fealty, yet cetinje as a whole regarded the affair as a blessing. not only was the populace pleased, but, with childish ignorance of the western point of view (and at that time west europe was really very fairly civilized), actually expected europe to rejoice with them. it was a cleansing of the temple; a casting out of abominations. and so ready was every one with a candidate for the throne that it was impossible not to suspect that there had been foreknowledge of the event. subsequent enquiry through persons connected with the post office revealed to me the fact that a most unusual amount of cypher telegrams had been buzzing between belgrade and cetinje immediately before the bloody climax. petar karageorgevitch, we learnt by telegram, was dwelling in a "modest apartment" in geneva, and was quite unable to furnish journalists with any information. the paris havas found bozhidar karageorgevitch more communicative and published an interview in which he pleasantly stated that the event had caused him no surprise as he had foreseen it ever since the marriage with draga. on the th i drove down to cattaro with my sister to see her off by steamer. cattaro, as usual in the summer, lay panting at the water's edge. no more news; any amount of gossip; the petrovitches were tottering, said some; prince mirko had lately fought a duel upon austrian territory with his brother, prince danilo; they would certainly fight for the throne. the austrian papers were full of "digs" at the petrovitches. i arrived back at cetinje on the evening of the th to find it beflagged and rows of tallow candles stuck along my bedroom window for the coming illuminations. a telegram had announced the election by the shkupstina of "our son-in-law" and his accession had already been celebrated by a service at the monastery church and a military parade. "bogati!" cried vuko to me, "you are better informed than all the diplomatists." he added that there was to be a gala performance at the theatre. i flew to the zetski dom. not a seat was to be had. "if you don't mind a crowd," said the ever-obliging vuko, "you can come into my box." and he hurried up dinner that we might all be in time. the diplomatic table complimented me on having "spotted the winner," and on either table lay a festive programme informing us that the serbian theatrical company, which had abruptly shed its mourning, was giving a gala performance "in honour of the accession of our beloved king petar." the theatre was packed from roof to floor. the performance opened with a tableau--a portrait of petar i, bewreathed and beflagged. a speech was made. there were shouts of "zhivio!" ("long life to him!" an eminently suitable remark under the circumstances). the whole house cheered. i felt like an accessory after the act. up in the royal box, the only representatives of the reigning house, sat prince mirko and his wife. i watched his stony countenance. but for the devil and holy russia, we might have been shouting "zhivio kralj mirko!" i wondered if it hurt badly and felt sorry for him, for i have been ploughed in an exam, myself. we were a tight fit in our box. gazivoda, head of the police at podgoritza and brother-in-law to vuko, was there. he, too, was assassinated a few years afterwards. and there was a crowd of vuko's pretty daughters. the eldest, still a pupil at the russian girls' school (russia institut) was shuddering with horror at the crime. "poor queen, poor queen!" she muttered at intervals, "she was still alive when they threw her from the window. if i had been there i would have wept on her grave." she was but fifteen, and it was her initiation into those balkan politics in which, as madame rizoff, she was herself later to play a part. we shouted our last "zhivio!" the play was over. petar was king and the near east had entered upon a new path which led as yet none knew whither. i noted in my diary, "will the army, now that it has taken the bit between its teeth, be more than king petar can manage?" in truth no greater curse can befall a land than to be ruled by its own army. a nation that chooses to be dictated to by its military has sunk low indeed. cetinje showed signs of relapsing into dullness. i started on a tour up country. the country i have described elsewhere, and will deal now only with the political situation. there were no roads then over the mountains and travelling was very severe work. at every halt--for rest in the midday heat, or a cup of black coffee to stimulate me for another two or three hours on horse and on foot--the serbian murders were the one topic. boshko, my guide, with the latest news from podgoritza was in great request and a proud man. everywhere the crime was approved. the women raged against draga, even saying "she ought to lie under the accursed stone heap!"--a reminiscence of the fact that stoning to death was actually inflicted in montenegro in the old days, upon women for sexual immorality. vuk vrchevitch records a case as late as . and in quite recent times a husband still, if he thought fit, would cut off the nose of his wife if he suspected her of infidelity. no man, it was explained to me cheerfully, was ever likely to make love to her again after that. west europe was, in , quite ignorant of the state of primitive savagery from which the south slavs were but beginning to rise. distinguished scientists travelled far afield and recorded the head hunters of new guinea. but the ballads of grand voyvoda mirko--king nikola of montenegro's father--gloating over slaughter, telling of the piles of severed heads, of the triumph with which they were carried home on stakes and set around the village, and the best reserved as an offering to nikola himself for the adornment of cetinje; and the stripping and mutilating of the dead foe, give us a vivid picture of life resembling rather that of dahomey, than europe in . in the breast of every human being there is a wolf. it may sleep for several generations. but it wakes at last and howls for blood. in the breast of the south slav, both serb and montenegrin, it has not yet even thought of slumbering. montenegro approved the crime. it was to lead to "something"--indefinite, mysterious. serdar jovo martinovitch ruled in kolashin, a strong man then, who rode the clansmen on a strong curb. he had come up there as governor about four years ago on account of the constant fighting, not only on the border, but between the montenegrin plemena (tribes). the latter he had put a stop to. thirty years ago he assured me the clans were in a state of savagery. his own life was very balkan; many women figured in it; and to escape blood-vengeance he had fled--with one of them--to bulgaria, where he had served long years in the bulgarian army; and had returned to montenegro only after the affair had blown over. of the bulgars he spoke in the highest terms. at andrijevitza, to which he passed me on, great excitement reigned. some great event was expected at no distant date. i was told that it was now impossible for me to go to gusinje, but that next year all would be different. that they were well informed about the bulgar rising which was about to take place in macedonia i cannot, in the light of what followed, doubt. prince danilo's birthday was feted magnificently with barbaric dances by firelight, national songs and an ocean of rakija. we drank to the prince and wished him soon on the throne of prizren, a wish which at that time every montenegrin expected to see soon realized. the reign of the turk, i was told, was all but over. i remarked that this had been said for a hundred years at least and was told that the end must come some time, and that i should see it soon. meanwhile, the' authorities of andrijevitza were extremely anxious to get me to go across the border. though i was not aware of it at the time, they meant to use me to cover a spy. that the expedition was dangerous i knew. the ipek district had scarcely been penetrated by a foreigner for fifteen years, and was a forbidden one. the danger i did not mind. my two months' liberty each year were like judas's fabled visit to the iceberg--but they made the endless vista of grey imprisonment at home the more intolerable. and a bullet would have been a short way out. i made the expedition and gained thereby a reputation for courage which in truth i little deserved. as i was being used for political purposes, though i did not know it, i was, of course, shown only the great serbian view of things. the plan was carefully laid. my guide, who was disguised, spoke albanian and some turkish. at berani, our first stopping place, just over the turkish border, i met the first objectors to the murders--the monks at the very ancient church of giurgevi stupovi and a little company consisting of a wild-looking priest clad as a peasant and with a heavy revolver in his sash, and a couple of schoolmasters very heavily depressed. they, too, had evidently expected "something" to happen soon. i gathered, in fact, that an attack on the turk had been planned, and now with this revolution on their hands the serbs would be able to do nothing. in the town, however, i met the nephew of voyvoda gavro, then montenegro's minister for foreign affairs--a decadent type of youth on vacation from constantinople, where he was at college. for the montenegrins, though always expressing a hatred of all things turkish, have never missed an opportunity of sending their sons for education--gratis--to the enemy's capital. his conversation--and he was most anxious to pose as very "modern"--showed that constantinople is not a very nice place for boys to go to school in. he was furious with me for daring to criticize the serbian murders. he said no one but an enemy of the serb people would do so, and threatened to denounce me to his uncle. leaving berani i plunged into albanian territory. this land, fondly called by the serbs "stara srbija," old serbia, was in point of fact serb only for a short period. the serbs, or rather their slav ancestors, poured into the balkan peninsula in vast hordes in the sixth and seventh centuries and overwhelmed the original inhabitant, the albanian. but though they tried hard, they did not succeed in exterminating him. the original inhabitant, we may almost say, never is exterminated. the albanian was a peculiarly tough customer. he withdrew to the fastnesses of the mountains, fought with his back to the wall, so to speak, and in defiance of efforts to serbize him, retained his language and remained persistently attached to the church of rome. serbia reached her highest point of glory under tsar stefan dushan. on his death in , leaving no heir capable of ruling the heterogeneous empire he had thrown together in the twenty years of his reign, the rival feudal chieftains of serbia fought with each other for power and the empire was soon torn to pieces. albania split off from the mass almost at once, and was a separate principality under the balsha chiefs. and from that time albania has never again fallen completely under serb power. the turkish conquest crushed the serbs and the albanians grew in power. we cannot here detail the history, suffice it to say that in the serbs of kosovo, finding themselves unable to resist the advance of the albanians and the power of the turks, evacuated that district. led by arsenius, the serb patriarch, thousands of families emigrated into austria, who saved the serb people. since then the albanians had poured down and resettled in the land of their ancestors. from berani our route lay through arnaoutluk. we passed through rugova; nor did i know till afterwards that this was reputed one of the most dangerous districts in turkish territory and that no european traveller had been that way for some twenty years. there was a rough wooden mosque by the wayside. we halted. the people were friendly enough and some one gave us coffee. i little thought 'that in a few years time the place would be the scene of a hideous massacre by the montenegrins modelled on the moslem-slaying of vladika danilo. we reached ipek after some sixteen hours of very severe travel and knocked at the gates of the patriarchia long after nightfall--the very place whose bishop had led the retreating serb population into austria over two centuries before. my arrival was a thunderbolt, both for the patriarchia and the turkish authorities, who had forbidden the entry of strangers into the district and closed the main routes to it, but had never imagined any one would be so crazy as to drop in over the montenegrin frontier by way of rugova. the whole district was under military occupation. about thirty thousand turkish troops were camped in the neighbourhood, and i learnt that a great deal of fighting had recently taken place. briefly, the position was that for the past two and a half centuries the albanians had been steadily re-occupying the lands of their illyrian ancestors and pressing back the small remaining serb population, and since the time of the treaty of berlin had been struggling to wrest autonomy from the turks and obtain recognition as a nation. the whole of this district had been included in the autonomous albanian state proposed and mapped out by lord goschen and lord fitzmaurice in . ipek, jakova and prizren were centres of the albanian league. the british government report of august gives a very large albanian majority to the whole district. "the albanians are numerically far superior to the serbians, who are not numerous in kosovopolje and the sanjak of novibazar. the albanian population in the vilayet of kosovo has lately ( ) been still further increased by the accession of many thousands of refugees from districts now, in virtue of the treaty of berlin, in serbian possession and which prior to the late war were exclusively inhabited by descendants of the twelve greg tribes, which at a remote period emigrated from upper albania." a fundamental doctrine of the great serb idea is a refusal to recognize that history existed before the creation of the serb empire, or even to admit that balkan lands had owners before the arrival of the serbs. nothing infuriates a "great serbian" more than to suggest that if he insists on appealing to history another race has a prior claim to the land, and that in any case the great serbia of stefan dushan lasted but twenty years. in pursuance of this theory that the greater part of the balkan peninsula is the birthright of the serbs (who only began coming into these lands at the earliest in the fourth century a.d.) the serbs behaved with hideous brutality to the inhabitants of the lands they annexed in , and swarms of starving and destitute persons were hunted out, a large proportion of whom perished of want and exposure. the hatred between serb and albanian was increased a hundredfold, and the survivors and their descendants struggled continuously to gain complete control over the lands still theirs and to regain, if possible, those that they had lost. the adoption of lord fitzmaurice's plan would have spared the balkans and possibly europe much bloodshed and suffering. when i arrived on the scene in the summer of the turks had sent a large punitive expedition to enforce the payment of cattle tax and, at the command of europe, to introduce a new "reform" policy in kosovo vilayet. the albanians were well aware that the so-called reforms meant ultimately the furtherance of russia's pan-slav schemes; that so long as even a handful of serbs lived in a place russia would claim it as serb and enforce the claim to the best of her power; that the "reforms" meant, in fact, the introduction of serb and russian consulates, the erection of serb schools and churches under russian protection, the planting of serb colonies and ultimate annexation. russia was actively endeavouring to peg out fresh serb claims. the russian consul at mitrovitza, m. shtcherbina, had taken part in a fight against the albanians and was mortally wounded, it was reported, while he was serving a gun. russia, in fact, having already made sure of the removal of the pro-austrian obrenovitches and being in close touch with montenegro and bulgaria was planning another coup in the balkans. albania was resisting it. the turks under pressure from the powers were striving to smooth matters down sufficiently to stave off the final crash that drew ever nearer. they arrested a number of headmen and exacted some punishment for shtcherbina's death. though if a consul chooses to take part in a local fight he alone is responsible for results. i had, in fact, arrived at a critical moment. the turkish authorities telegraphed all over the country to know what they were to do about me. my montenegrin guide showed anxiety also and begged me on no account to reveal his origin. from a little hill belonging to the patriarchia i saw the widespread turkish camp on the plain. the igumen and the few monks and visitors gave me the serb point of view. because some six centuries ago the sveti kralj had been crowned in the church they regarded the land as rightfully and inalienably serb. they looked forward to the arrival of russian armies that should exterminate all that was not serb. shtcherbina to them was a christ-like man who had died to save them, and they treasured his portrait. russia, only the year before, had insisted on planting a consul at mitrovitza against the wish of the turkish government. serb hopes had been raised. and it was possible that his presence had in fact caused the fight. they admitted, however, that the turks were responsible for the state of albania, for they prohibited the formation of albanian schools and made progress impossible; an independent albania would be better. news of the deaths of alexander and draga had reached ipek, but no details, for serbian papers could only be smuggled in with great difficulty. i gathered that the murders caused some anxiety, for a great movement against the turks was planned, and owing to the upheaval in serbia, perhaps serbia would not now take part. as i was english they believed that the turks would be obliged to permit me to travel further if i pleased. but they implored me on no account if i went further afield, to take the train as all the railways were shortly to be blown up. meanwhile the turkish authorities could not decide what to do about me and called me to the konak about my passport. there i waited hours. the place was crowded with applicants for permission to travel. half-starved wretches begged leave to go to another district in search of harvest work and were denied. the turks were in a nervous terror and doubtless knew a crisis was at hand. as i waited in the crowd a youth called to me across the room and said in french: "it is pity you were not here a week or two ago. you could have gone to uskub and met all the foreign correspondents. now they have all gone. i was dragoman to the times correspondent. he has gone too. they think it is all over and it has not yet begun." he laughed. i was terrified lest any one present should know french. the boy declared they did not. finally, the pasha refused me permission to go to jakova as i had asked. and quite rightly, for fighting was still going on there between the troops and the albanians. i was allowed only to visit the monastery of detchani, a few hours' ride distant. detchani is one of the difficulties in the drawing of a just frontier. though in a district that is wholly albanian, it is one of the monuments of the ancient serb empire and contains the shrine of the sveti kralj, king stefan detchanski, who was strangled in in his castle of zvechani, it is said, by order of his son who succeeded him as the great tsar stefan dushan, and was in his turn murdered in . st. stefan dechansld is accounted peculiarly holy and yet to work miracles. the church, a fine one in pink and white marble, was built by an architect from cattaro, and shows venetian influence. a rude painting of the strangling of stefan adorns his shrine. i thought of the sordid details of the death of. serbia's latest king and the old world and the new seemed very close. except in the matter of armament, things balkan had changed but little in over five centuries. a turkish officer and some nizams were quartered at the monastery, but the few monks and students there seemed oddly enough to have more faith in a guard of moslem albanians who lived near. they were expecting shortly the arrival of russian monks from mount athos. russia was, in fact, planting russian subjects there for the express purpose of making an excuse for intervention. the young turkish officer was very civil to me and offered to give me a military escort to enable me to return to montenegro by another route. my disguised montenegrin guide who was pledged to hand me over safe and sound to voyvoda lakitch at andrijevitza signalled to me in great anxiety. each day he remained on turkish territory he risked detection and the loss of his life. i returned therefore to the patriarchia, recovered my passport from the pasha and was given by him a mounted gendarme to ride with me as far as berani. this fellow, a cheery moslem bosniak, loaded his rifle and kept a sharp look out. and a second gendarme accompanied us till we were through the pass. and both vowed that a few months ago they wouldn't have come with less than thirty men; albanians behind every rock and piff paff, a bullet in your living heart before you knew where you were. they wondered much that i had made the journey with only one old zaptieh. still more, that i had been allowed to come at all. berani received me with enthusiasm. nor had my cheery turkish gendarme an idea that my guide was a montenegrin till he took off his fez at the frontier. then the gendarme slapped his thigh, roared with laughter and treated it as a good joke. the said guide's relief on being once more in his own territory showed clearly what the risks had been for him. andrijevitza gave us quite an ovation. countless questions as to the number and position of the turkish army were poured out. my guide had fulfilled his task. i was reckoned a hero. what hold the voyvoda had over the kaimmakam of berani i never ascertained. but it was the voyvoda's letter to the kaimmakam that got me over the border. all that i gathered was that i had been made use of for political purposes and successfully come through what every one considered a very dangerous enterprise. the same people who had urged me to go now addressed me as "one that could look death in the eyes." had i met death, what explanation would they have offered to the questions that must have cropped up over the death of a british subject? a number of schoolmasters had gathered in andrijevitza for their holidays. many of them were educated in belgrade and these were especially of the opinion that the murder of alexander and draga was a splendid thing for serbia, and when i said it might bring misfortune were not at all pleased. even persons who at first said the murder was horrible now said since it was done it was well done. the voyvoda and the kapetan told me that every country in europe had accepted king petar except england and that the serb minister had been sent from london. "england," they declared, "has often been our enemy." they hoped that good, however, would result from my journey. the whole of my return to cetinje was a sort of triumphal progress. jovo martinovitch, the serdar at kolashin, was delighted to hear of the ipek expedition, but admitted frankly that he had not dared propose it himself. voyvoda lakitch, he said, was well informed and no doubt knew the moment at which it could be safely attempted. every place i passed through was of opinion something was about to happen soon. next year the route to gusinje would be open. at podgoritza i was received by the governor spiro popovitch and taken for a drive round the town. i arrived at cetinje in time for dinner and appeared in my usual corner. mr. shipley and count bollati hailed me at once saying that they thought i was about due. where had i been? "ipek," said i. the effect on the diplomatic table was even more startling than upon montenegro. "but the route is closed!" said every one. i assured them i had nevertheless been through it, and mr. shipley said if he had had any idea i was going to attempt such a thing he would have telegraphed all over the place and stopped it. at the same time he admitted, "i rather thought you were up to something," and gave me a piece of excellent advice, which i have always followed, which was "never consult a british representative if you want to make a risky journey." really, he was quite pleased about it and crowed over the rest of the diplomatic table, that the british could get to places that nobody else could. i received a note next morning from the bulgarian diplomatic agent praying for an interview. he had not been long in cetinje, but later became one of the best known balkan politicians. for he was monsieur rizoff, who, as bulgar minister at berlin, played a considerable part in the balkan politics of the great war. he was a macedonian bulgar born at resna, a typical bulgar in build and cast of countenance, and a shrewd and clever intriguer. his excitement over my journey was great and he wanted every possible detail as to what were the turkish forces and where they were situated. i told him that i understood a rising was planned. and he told me quite frankly that all was being prepared and a rising was to break out in macedonia so soon as the crops were harvested. i gathered that rizoff himself was deeply mixed in the plot, an idea which was confirmed later on. for among the papers captured on a bulgar comitadgi, doreff, was a letter signed grasdoff, describing his attempts to import arms through montenegro, a plan he found impossible owing to the opposition of the albanians in the territories that must be passed through. he visited cetinje and reports: "i have spoken with m. rizoff. with regard to the passage of men and munitions through montenegro . . . even at the risk of losing his post he is disposed to give his assistance. but owing to the great difficulty the plan would meet in albania we must renounce it. m. rizoff hopes to be transferred soon to belgrade. m. rizoff having met m. milakoff (pmilukoff) at abbazia, has decided to continue the preparations for the organization until public opinion is convinced of the inutility of the (turkish) reforms or until the term fixed--october ." rizoff, in his talk with me, seemed hopeful of inducing european intervention. desultory fighting between bulgar bands and turkish troops had been going on in macedonia throughout the year and many bulgar peasants had fled from macedonia into bulgaria where fresh bands were prepared. a bad fight had taken place near uskub, the slav peasants of which were then recognized as bulgars. but the serbo-bulgar struggle for uskub--which, in truth, was then mainly albanian--had begun. throughout turkish territory, greek, serb and bulgar pegged out their claims by the appointment of bishops. once a bishop was successfully planted, a school with serb, greek or bulgar masters at once sprang up and under the protection of one great power or another a fresh propaganda was started. every time a bishop was moved by one side, it meant "check to your king!" for the other. english bishops talked piously of, and even prayed for "our christian brethren of the balkans," happily unaware that their christian brethren were solely engaged in planning massacres or betraying the priests of a rival nationality to the turks. serbia had just triumphantly cried "check" to bulgaria. in the bishop of uskub had died. the serbs had had no bishop in turkish territory since the destruction of the serb bishopric of ipek in , which was the work of the greek patriarch rather than of the turk. they now put in a claim. the russian vjedomosti published a learned article on the ipek episcopate. the porte regarded with dread the increasing power of the bulgars. so did the greek patriarch at constantinople. he of had aimed at the destruction of slavdom. he of thought serbia far less dangerous than bulgaria. firmilian was duly consecrated in june, --a small straw showing that russia had begun to blow serbwards. she began to see she could not afford to have a powerful bulgaria between herself and constantinople. at cetinje i gathered that my jpurney to ipek was mysteriously connected with "something" that was going to happen, and was interested to find that though the populace still heartily approved of the murder of alexander and were filled with anger and dismay at england's rupture of diplomatic relations, the mighty of the land had realized that in public at any rate, it was as well to moderate their transports. king nikola had been interviewed by several british and other journalists, had looked down his nose, lamented the wickedness of the serbs and assured his interviewers that the montenegrins were a far more virtuous people. montenegro posed as the good boy of the serb race, and as the gentlemen in question had not been present either at the thanksgiving in the church nor the gala performance at the zetski dom, they accepted the statement. interviewing is, in fact, as yet the most efficient method by which journalism can spread erroneous reports. i returned to london and read shortly afterwards in the times that macedonian troubles had settled down and recollecting that at ipek i had learnt they had not yet begun i wrote and told the times so. but it was far too well informed to print this statement. had it not withdrawn its correspondent? and, as rizoff had told me, a general bulgar rising broke out all through macedonia in august. chapter eight macedonia, - the macedonian rising of was a purely bulgar movement. as is invariably the case with such risings, it was ill-planned; and untrained peasants and irregular forces never in the long run have a chance against regulars. its history has been told more than once in detail. i need only say that, instead of revolting simultaneously, one village rose after another, and the turkish forces rode round, burning and pillaging in the usual fashion of punitive expeditions. thousands of refugees fled into bulgaria--thus emphasizing their nationality--and within the bulgarian frontier organized komitadji bands, which carried on a desultory guerrilla war with the turkish forces for some time. but it was soon obvious that, unless strongly aided by some outside power, the rising must fail. the most important point to notice now is that not a single one of these many revolutionaries fled to serbia, or claimed that they were serbs. they received arms, munitions and other help from bulgaria, from serbia nothing. they were rising to make big bulgaria, not great serbia. serbia now claims these people as serbs. she did not then extend one finger to assist them. milosh would not help the greeks to obtain freedom because he did not want a large greece. similarly, serbia and greece in did nothing at all to aid the macedonian revolutionaries. most of us who have worked in old days to free the people from the turkish yoke have now recognized what a farce that tale was. not one of the balkan people ever wanted to "free" their "christian brethren" unless there was a chance of annexing them. the bulgar rising died down as winter came on and acute misery reigned in the devastated districts. in december, as one who had some experience of balkan life, i was asked to go out on relief work under the newly formed macedonian relief committee. the invitation came to me as an immense surprise and with something like despair. i had had my allotted two months' holiday. i had never before been asked to take part in any public work, and i wanted to go more than words could express. circumstances had forced me to refuse so many openings. i was now forty, and this might be my last chance. the fates were kind, and i started for salonika at a few days' notice, travelling almost straight through. serbia was depressed and anxious, i gathered from my fellow travellers, as we passed through it. bishop firmilian, whose election to the see of uskub the serbs had with great difficulty obtained in june , had just died. the train was full of ecclesiastics going to his funeral at uskub. russia had aided his election very considerably. it had coincided with russia's support of petar karageorgevitch to the throne of serbia, and all was part of russia's new balkan plans in which serbia was to play a leading role. petar was not received by europe. firmilian was dead. serbia was anxious. they buried firmilian on christmas day in the morning, dreading the while lest they were burying the bishopric too, so far as serbia was concerned--and i reached salonika that night. the tale of the relief work i have told elsewhere. i will now touch only on the racial questions. in monastir i tried to buy some serb books, for i was hard at work studying the language, and had a dictionary and grammar with me. serbian propaganda in monastir was, however, then only in its infancy, and nothing but very elementary school books were to be got. the bulgars had a big school and church. if any one had suggested that monastir was serb or ever likely to be serb, folk would have thought him mad--or drunk. the pull was between greek and bulgar, there was no question of the serbs. there was a large "greek" population, both in town and country, but of these a very large proportion were vlachs, many were south albanians, others were slavs. few probably were genuine greeks. but they belonged to the greek branch of the orthodox church, and were reckoned greek in the census. those slavs who called themselves serbs, and the serb schoolmasters who had come for propaganda purposes, all went to the greek churches. as for the hatred between the greek and bulgar churches--it was so intense that no one from west europe who has not lived in the land with it, can possibly realize it. the greeks under turkish rule had been head of the orthodox christians. true to balkan type, they had dreamed only of the reconstruction of the big byzantine empire, and had succeeded, by hooks and crooks innumerable, in suppressing and replacing the independent serb and bulgar churches. but russia, when she began to scheme for pan-slavism, had no sympathy with big byzantium, and was aware that when you have an ignorant peasantry to deal with, a national church is one of the best means for producing acute nationalism. under pressure from russia, who was supported by other powers--some of whom really believed they were aiding the cause of christianity--the sultan in created by firman the bulgarian exarchate. far from "promoting christianity" the result of this was that the greek patriarch excommunicated the exarch and all his followers, and war was declared between the two churches. they had no difference of any kind or sort as regards doctrine, dogma, or ceremonial. the difference was, and is, political and racial. never have people been more deluded than have been the pious of england about the balkan christians. in montenegro i had heard all the stock tales of the christian groaning under the turkish yoke, and had believed them. i learnt in macedonia the strange truth that, on the contrary, it was the christian churches of the balkans that kept the turk in power. greek and serb were both organizing komitadjis bands and sending them into macedonia, not to "liberate christian brethren"--no. that was the last thing they wanted. but to aid the turk in suppressing "christian brethren." i condoled with the bulgar bishop of ochrida on the terrible massacre of his flock by the turks. he replied calmly that to him it had been a disappointment. he had expected quite half the population to have been killed, and then europe would have been forced to intervene. not a quarter had perished, and he expected it would all have to be done over again. "next time there will be a great slaughter. all the foreign consuls and every foreigner will be killed too. it is their own fault." big bulgaria was to be constructed at any price. i suggested that, had the bulgars risen in when the greek made war on the turk, the whole land could have been freed. he replied indignantly, "i would rather the land should remain for ever under the turk than that the greeks should ever obtain a kilometre." later i met his rival, the greek bishop. he, too, loudly lamented the suffering of the wretched christian under the turkish yoke. to him i suggested that if greece aided the bulgar rising the christian might now be freed. the mere idea horrified him. sooner than allow those swine of bulgars to obtain any territory he would prefer that the land should be for ever turkish. such was the christianity which at that time was being prayed for in english churches. bulgars came to me at night and begged poison with which to kill greeks. greeks betrayed bulgar komitadjis to the turkish authorities. the serbs sided with the greeks. they had not then the smallest desire "to liberate their slav brethren in macedonia." no. they were doing all they could to prevent the bulgars liberating them. of serb conduct a vivid picture is given by f. wilson in a recently published book on the serbs she looked after as refugees during the late war. she gives details taken down from the lips of a serbian schoolmaster, who describes how he began serb propaganda in macedonia in . "we got the children. we made them realize they were serbs. we taught them their history. . . . masters and children, we were like secret conspirators." when the bulgars resisted this propaganda he describes how a gang of thirty serbs "met in a darkened room and swore for each serb killed to kill two bulgars." lots were drawn for who should go forth to assassinate. "we broke a loaf in two and each ate a piece. it was our sacrament. our wine was the blood of the bulgarians." a small serb school had recently been opened in ochrida, and i was invited there to the feast of st. sava. the whole serb population of ochrida assembled. we were photographed together. counting the greek priest, the schoolmaster and his family, who were from serbia, and myself, we were a party of some fifty people. ochrida had a very mixed population. more than half were moslems, most of them albanians. of the christians the bulgars formed the largest unit, but there were many vlachs. these were reckoned as greeks by the greeks, but were already showing signs of claiming their own nationality. the serbs were by far the smallest group, so small in fact as to be then negligible. the kaimmakam was an albanian moslem, mehdi bey, who kept the balance well under very difficult circumstances, and to-day is one of the leading albanian nationalists. he asserted always that ochrida should, of right, belong to albania. albanian it was indeed considered until the rise of the russo-bulgar movement. as late as we find the lakes of ochrida and presba referred to as the albanian lakes by english travellers. through the winter of - trouble simmered, arrests were made, murders occurred. i learnt the ethics of murder, which, in macedonia, were simply: "when a moslem kills a moslem so much the better. when a christian kills a christian it is better not talked about, because people at home would not understand it; when a christian kills a moslem it is a holy and righteous act. when a moslem kills a christian it is an atrocity and should be telegraphed to all the papers." in february the russo-japanese quarrel, which had been for some time growing hotter, burst into sudden war, and the whole complexion of balkan affairs changed. at the beginning the bulgar leaders took it for granted that russia was invincible, and anticipated speedy and complete victory for her. they were also supplied with false news, and refused to credit at first any russian defeat. the bishop of ochrida was furious when i reported to him the sinking of the petropalovski, and fiercely declared that the war was in reality an anglo-russian one, and that japan was merely our tool. when riding on relief work among the burnt villages it was easy to learn the great part russia had taken in building up the bulgar rising in macedonia. the same tale was told in almost each. once upon a time, not so very long ago, a rich, noble and generous gentleman had visited the village. he was richer than you could imagine; had paid even a white medjid for a cup of coffee; had called the headmen and the priest together and had asked them if they would like a church of their own in the village. and in due time the church had been built. followed, a list of silver candlesticks, vestments, etc., presented by this same nobleman--the russian consul. the turks had looted the treasures. could i cause them to be restored? sometimes the consul had had an old church restored. sometimes he had given money to establish a school. always he stood for the people as something almost omnipotent. in august m. rostovsky, the russian consul at monastir, had been murdered. there was nothing political in the affair. the russian had imagined the land was already his, and that he was dealing with humble mouzhiks. he carried a heavy riding-whip and used it when he chose. i was told by an eye-witness that on one occasion he so savagely flogged a little boy who had ventured to hang on behind the consular carriage that a turkish gendarme intervened. one day he lashed an albanian soldier. the man waited his opportunity and shot rostovsky dead on the main road near the consulate. russia treated the murder as a political one, and demanded and obtained apology and reparation of the turkish government. the consul's remains were transported to the coast with full honours. all this for a russian consul in turkey. truly one man may steal a horse and another not look over a fence. russia mobilized when austria insisted on enquiry into the murder of an archduke. so well was rostovsky's funeral engineered that the native slav peasants looked on him as a martyr to the sacred slav cause, not as a man who had brought his punishment on himself. russia was not, however, the only power in monastir. it seethed with consuls. and the most prominent was krai, the austrian consul-general, a very energetic and scheming man who "ran" austria for all she was worth, and was a thorn in the side of the british consul, whom he endeavoured to thwart at every turn. he persuaded the american missionaries, who were as innocent as babes about european politics, though they had passed thirty years in the balkan peninsula, that he and not the englishman could best forward their interests, and they foolishly induced the american government to transfer them and their schools to austrian protection. and he pushed himself to the front always, declaring that he had far more power to aid the relief work and trying to make the english consult him instead of their own representative. this annoyed me, and i therefore never visited him at all. up country among the revolted villages it was clear that the luckless people had been induced to rise by the belief that, as in , russia would come to their rescue! but as time passed, and russia herself realized that the japanese were a tough foe, it became more and more apparent that no further rising would take place in the spring. the balkan orthodox lenten fast is so severe that a rising before easter was always improbable. this easter would see none.. i remembered with curious clearness the words of the pole who gave me my first serbian lessons. "russia is corrupt right through. if there is a war--russia will be like that!" and he threw a rag of paper into the basket scornfully. his has been a twice true prophecy. the bulgarian bishop of ochrida still believed firmly in russia's invincibility. furious when i refused to have cartridges, etc., hidden in my room--which the turks never searched--he turned on me and declared that england was not a christian country and would be wiped out by holy russia, who had already taken half japan and would soon take the rest and all india too. by the middle of march i was quite certain no rising would take place. the foreign office in london still expected one, and notified all relief workers up country to wind up work and return. the others did, but i stayed and managed to ride right through albania. chapter nine. albania "where rougher climes a nobler race displayed."--byron. study of the macedonian question had shown me that one of the most important factors of the near eastern question was the albanian, and that the fact that he was always left out of consideration was a constant source of difficulty. the balkan committee had recently been formed, and i therefore decided to explore right through albania, then but little known, in order to be able to acquire first-hand information as to the aspirations and ideas of the albanians. throughout the relief work in macedonia we had employed albanians in every post of trust--as interpreters, guides, kavasses and clerks. the depot of the british and foreign bible society at monastir was entirely in albanian hands. the albanian was invaluable to the bible society, and the bible society was invaluable to the albanians. albania was suffering very heavily. every other of the sultan subject races had its own schools--schools that were, moreover, heavily subsidized from abroad. the bulgarian schools in particular were surprisingly well equipped. each school was an active centre of nationalist propaganda. all the schoolmasters were revolutionary leaders. all were protected by various consulates which insisted on opening new schools and protested when any were interfered with. only when it was too late to stop the schools did the turks perceive their danger. first came the school, then the revolution, then foreign intervention--and another piece of the turkish' empire was carved off. this had happened with serbia, greece and bulgaria. the turks resolved it should not happen in the case of albania. albania was faced by two enemies. not only the turk dreaded the uprising of albania, but russia had already determined that the balkan peninsula was to be slav and orthodox. greece as orthodox might be tolerated. no one else. the turkish government prohibited the printing and teaching of the albanian language under most severe penalties. turkish schools were established for the moslem albanians, and every effort made to bring up the children to believe they were turks. in south albania, where the christians belong to the orthodox church, the greeks were encouraged to found schools and work a greek propaganda. the turks hoped thus to prevent the rise of a strong national albanian party. the greek patriarch went so far as to threaten with excommunication any orthodox albanian who should use the "accursed language" in church or school. in north albania, where the whole of the christians are catholics, the austrians, who had been charged by europe with the duty of protecting the catholics, established religious schools in which the teaching was in albanian, and with which the turkish government was unable to interfere. the jesuits, under austrian protection, established a printing press in scutari for the printing in albanian of religious books. but this movement, being strictly catholic, was confined to the north. it was, moreover, initiated with the intent of winning over the northern christians to austria, and was directed rather to dividing the christians from the moslems and to weakening rather than strengthening the sense of albanian nationality. the results of this we will trace later. none of these efforts on the part of albania's enemies killed the strong race instinct which has enabled the albanian to survive the roman empire and the fall of byzantium, outlive the fleeting mediaeval empires of bulgar and serb, and finally emerge from the wreck of the mighty ottoman empire, retaining his language, his customs and his primitive vigour--a rock over which the tides of invasion have washed in vain. when threatened with loss of much albanian territory by the terms of the treaty of berlin, the albanians rose in force and demanded the recognition of their rights. there is a popular ballad in albanian cursing lord beaconsfield, who went to berlin in order to ruin albania and give her lands to her pitiless enemy the slav. the treaty did nothing for albania, but it caused the formation of the albanian league and a national uprising by means of which the albanians retained some of the said lands in spite of the powers. this induced abdul hamid for a short time to relax the ban upon the albanian language. at once national schools were opened, and books and papers came from albanian presses. the sultan, alarmed by the rapid success of the national movement, again prohibited the language. schoolmasters were condemned to long terms of imprisonment. as much as fifteen years was the sentence that could be, and was, inflicted upon any one found in possession of an albanian paper, and the greek priests entered enthusiastically into the persecution. but albanian was not killed. leaders of the movement went to bucarest, to sofia, to brussels, to london, and set to work. with much difficulty and at great personal risk books and papers published abroad were smuggled into albania by moslem albanian officials, many of whom suffered exile and confiscation of all their property in consequence. but there was another means by which printed albanian was brought into the country. during the short interval when the printing of albanian had been permitted, a translation of the bible was made for the british and foreign bible society. this society had the permission of the turkish government to circulate its publications freely. when the interdict on the language was again imposed a nice question arose. had the society the right to circulate albanian testaments? the turkish government had not the least objection to the gospels--only they must not be in albanian. a constant war on the subject went on. the director of the bible depot in monastir was an albanian of high standing both as regards culture and energy. grasping the fact that by means of these publications an immense national propaganda could be worked, he spared no pains, and by carefully selecting and training albanian colporteurs, whose business it was to learn in which districts the officials were dangerous, where they were sympathetic, and where there were nationalists willing themselves to risk receiving and distributing books, succeeded to a remarkable degree. the greeks, of course, opposed the work. a greek bishop is, in fact, declared to have denounced the dissemination of "the new testament and other works contrary to the teaching of the holy and orthodox church." nevertheless it continued. it was with one of the society's colporteurs that i rode through albania. i was thus enabled everywhere to meet the nationalists and to observe how very widely spread was the movement. the journey was extremely interesting, and as exciting in many respects as borrow's bible in spain. leaving monastir in a carriage and driving through much of the devastated slav area i was greatly struck on descending into the plain land by lake malik to see the marked difference in the type of man that swung past on the road. i saw again the lean, strong figure and the easy stride of the albanian, the man akin to my old friends of scutari, a wholly different type from the bulgar peasants among whom i had been working, and i felt at home. koritza, the home of nationalism in the south, was my first halting-place. it was celebrated as being the only southern town in which there was still an albanian school in spite of turk and greek. like the schools of scutari, it owed its existence to foreign protection. it was founded by the american mission. its plucky teacher, miss kyrias (now mrs. dako), conducted it with an ability and enthusiasm worthy of the highest praise. and in spite of the fact that attendance at the school meant that parents and children risked persecution by the turk and excommunication by the greek priest, yet the school was always full. the girls learned to read and write albanian and taught their brothers. many parents told me very earnestly how they longed for a boys' school too. the unfortunate master of the albanian boys' school, permitted during the short period when the interdiction was removed, was still in prison serving his term of fifteen years. could not england, i was asked, open a school? now either a child must learn greek or not learn to read at all. and the greek teachers even told children that it was useless to pray in albanian, for christ was a greek, and did not understand any other language. everywhere it was the same. deputations came to me begging for schools. even orthodox priests, who were albanian, ventured to explain that what they wanted was an independent church. roumania, serbia, greece, even montenegro, each was free to elect its own clergy and to preach and conduct the service in its own language. at leskoviki and premeti folk were particularly urgent both for schools and church. not only among the christians, but among the moslems too, there was a marked sense of nationality. a very large proportion of the moslems of the south were by no means, orthodox moslems, but were members of one of the dervish sects, the bektashi, and as such suspect by the powers, at constantinople. between the bektashi and the christians there appeared to be no friction. mosques were not very plentiful. i was assured by the kaimmakam of leskoviki that many of the moslem officials were bekiashifj and attended mosque only as a form without which they could not hold office. he was much puzzled about christianity and asked me to explain why the greeks and | bulgars, who were both christian, were always killing each other. "they say to europe," he said, "that they object to moslem rule. but they would certainly massacre each other if we went away. what good is this christianity to them?" i told him i could no more understand it than he did. the bulgarian rising had had a strong repercussion in albania. our relief work was everywhere believed to be a british government propaganda. other powers scattered money for their own purpose in turkish territory. why not great britain? it was a natural conclusion. moreover the bulgars themselves believed the help brought them was from england the power. and the name balkan committee even was misleading. in the near east a committee is a revolutionary committee, and consists of armed komitadjis. times innumerable have i assured balkan people of all races that the balkan committee did not run contraband rifles, but they have never believed it. the albanians everywhere asked me to assure lord lansdowne, then secretary for foreign affairs, that if he would only supply them with as much money and as many arms as he had given the bulgarians they would undertake to make a really successful rising. as for our albanian testaments, moslems as well as christians bought them; and the book of genesis, with the tale of potiphar's wife, sold like hot cakes. at berat, where there was a greek consul and a turkish kaimmakam, we were stopped by the police at the entrance of the town and all our albanian books were taken from us. but no objection was made to those in turkish and greek. it was the language and not the contents of the book that was forbidden. but there were plenty of nationalists in the town. it is noteworthy that though our errand was well known everywhere, and people hastened to tell "the englishwoman" albania's hopes and fears, not once did any one come to tell me that albania wanted to be joined to greece. it was always "give us our own schools," "free us from the greek priest." at elbasan we found a bale of publications awaiting us, sent from monastir in anticipation of what would happen at berat. here there was a charming old albanian mutasarrif, who did all he could to make my visit pleasant and begged me to send many english visitors. he had been governor of tripoli (now taken by italy), and told me that on returning home to albania after very many years' foreign service he was horrified to find his native land worse used than any other part of the turkish empire with which he was acquainted. he was hot on the school question, and declared his intention of having albanian taught. as for our books we might sell as many as we pleased, the more the better. the little boys of the moslem school flocked to buy them, and we sold, too, to several albanians who wore the uniform of turkish officers. the albanian periodical, published in london by faik bey, was known here. a definite effort was being made at elbasan to break with the greek church. an albanian priest had visited rome, and there asked leave to establish at elbasan a uniate church. he was the son of a rich man, and having obtained the assent of rome returned with the intention of building the church himself, and had even bought a piece of land for it. but leave to erect a church had to be first obtained from the turkish government. this he was hoping to receive soon. the turkish government, aware that this was part of the nationalist movement, never granted the permit, though characteristically it kept the question open for a long while. the mountains of spata near elbasan are inhabited by a mountain folk in many ways resembling the maltsors of the north, who preserved a sort of semi-independence. they were classed by the christians as crypto-christians. i saw neither church nor mosque in the district i visited. as for religion, each had two names. to a moslem enquirer he said he was suliman; to a christian that he was constantino. when called on to pay tax, as christians in place of giving military service, the inhabitants declined on the grounds that they all had moslem names and had no church. when on the other hand they were summoned for military service they protested they were christians. and the turks mostly left them alone. but they were nationalists, and when the proposal for a uniate church was mooted, declared they would adhere to rome. the news of this having spread, upset the orthodox powers to such an extent that a russian vice-consul was sent hurriedly to the spot. the spata men, however, who were vague enough about religious doctrines, were very certain that they did not want anything russian, and the russian who had been instructed to buy them with gold if necessary had to depart in a hurry. it was a district scarcely ever visited by strangers, and my visit gave extraordinary delight. so through pekinj, kavaia, durazzo tirana and croia, the city of skenderbeg and the stronghold now of bektashism, i arrived at last at scutari, and was welcomed by mr. summa, himself a descendant of one of the mountain clans, formerly dragoman to the consulate, and now acting vice-consul. he was delighted about my journey, and told me he could pass me up into the mountains wherever i pleased. he explained to me that on my former visit, mr. prendergast being new to the country had consulted the austrian consulate as to the possibility of my travelling in the interior, and that the austrians who wished to keep foreigners out of the mountains, though they sent plenty of their own tourists there, had given him such an alarming account of the dangers as had caused him to tell me it was impossible. he arranged at once for me to visit mirdita. the abbot of the mirdites, premi dochl, was a man of remarkable capacity. exiled from albania as a young man for participation in the albanian league and inciting resistance to turkish rule and the decrees of the treaty of berlin, he had passed his years of exile in newfoundland and india as a priest, and had learned english and read much. he was the inventor of an excellent system of spelling albanian by which he got rid of all accents and fancy letters and used ordinary roman type. he had persuaded the austrian authorities to use it in their schools, and was enthusiastic about the books that he was having prepared. his schemes were wide and included the translation of many standard english books into albanian. and he had opened a small school hard by his church in the mountains. his talk was wise. he was perhaps the most far-seeing of the albanian nationalists. we stood on a height and looked over albania --range behind range like the stony waves of a great sea, sweeping towards the horizon intensely and marvellously blue, and fading finally into the sky in a pale mauve distance. he thrust out his hands towards it with pride and enthusiasm. it was a mistake, he said, now to work against turkey. the turk was no longer albania's worst foe. albania had suffered woefully from the turk. but albania was not dead. far from it. there was another, and a far worse foe --one that grew ever stronger, and that was the slav: russia with her fanatical church and her savage serb and bulgar cohorts ready to destroy albania and wipe out catholic and moslem alike. he waved his hand in the direction of ipek. "over yonder," he said, "is the land the serbs called old serbia. but it is a much older albania. now it is peopled with albanians, many of whom are the victims, or the children of the victims, of the berlin treaty: albanians, who had lived for generations on lands that that treaty handed over to the serbs and montenegrins, who drove them out to starve. hundreds perished on the mountains. look at dulcigno--a purely albanian town, threatened by the warships of the great powers, torn from us by force. how could we resist all europe? our people were treated by the invading serb and montenegrin with every kind of brutality. and the great gladstone looked on! now there is an outcry that the albanians of kosovo ill-treat the slavs. myself i regret it. but what can they do? what can you expect? they know very well that so long as ten serbs exist in a place russia will swear it is a wholly serb district. and they have sworn to avenge the loss of dulcigno. "the spirit of the nation is awake in both christian and moslem. people ask why should not we, like the bulgars and serbs, rule our own land? but first we must learn, and organize. we must have time. if another war took place now the slavs would overwhelm us. we must work our propaganda and teach europe that there are other people to be liberated besides bulgars and serbs. the turk is now our only bulwark against the slav invader. i say therefore that we must do nothing to weaken the turk till we are strong enough to stand alone and have european recognition. when the turkish empire breaks up, as break it must, we must not fall either into the hands of austria nor of the slavs." and to this policy, which time has shown to have been the wise one, he adhered steadily. he took no part in rising against the turk, but he worked hard by means of spread of education and information, to attain ultimately the freedom of his country. his death during the great war is a heavy loss to albania. i promised him then that i would do all that lay in my power to bring a knowledge of albania to the english, and that i would work for its freedom. he offered to pass me on to gusihje, djakova, or any other district i wished, and to do all in his power to aid my travels but i had already far exceeded my usual holiday, and appeals to me to return to england were urgent. i had to tear myself away from the wilderness and i was soon once more steaming up the lake of scutari to rijeka. chapter ten. murder will out i arrived in cetinje with a turkish trooper's saddle and a pair of saddle-bags that contained some flintlock pistols and some beautiful ostrich feathers given me by the mutasarrif of elbasan and not much else but rags. the news that i had come right through albania excited cetinje vastly. every english tourist who wanted to go to scutari was warned by the montenegrins that it was death to walk outside the town; that murders took place every day in the bazar; any absurd tale, in fact, to blacken the albanians. the montenegrins were not best pleased at my exploit, and full of curiosity. i patched my elbows, clipped the ragged edge of my best skirt, and was then told by vuko vuletitch that the marshal of the court was waiting below to speak with me. i descended and found the gentleman in full dress. it was a feast day. we greeted one another. "his royal highness the prince wishes to speak with you!" said he with much flourish. "he requests you will name an hour when it is convenient for you to come to the palace." it was the first time the prince had noticed me, i was highly amused, and replied: "i can come now if his royal highness pleases!" the marshal of the court eyed me doubtfully and hesitated. "i can wash my hands," said i firmly, "and that is all; i have no clothes but what i have on." my only other things were in the wash, and i had repaired myself so far as circumstances allowed. the marshal of the court returned with the message that his royal highness would receive me at once "as a soldier." i trotted obediently off with him. we arrived at the palace. it was a full-dress day, and the montenegrins never let slip an occasion for peacocking. the situation pleased me immensely. the marshal himself was in his very best white cloth coat and silken sash, gold waistcoat, and all in keeping. another glittering functionary received me and between the two i proceeded upstairs. at the top of the flight is a large full-length looking-glass, and for the first time for four months i "saw myself as others saw me." between the two towering glittering beings was a small, wiry, lean object, with flesh burnt copper-colour and garments that had never been anything to boast of, and were now long past their prime. i could have laughed aloud when i saw the prince in full-dress with rows of medals and orders across his wide chest, awaiting me. it is a popular superstition, fostered by newspapers in the pay of modistes, that in order to get on it is necessary to spend untold sums on dress. but in truth if people really want to get something out of you they do not care what you look like. nor will any costume in the world assist you if you have nothing to say. the prince conducted me to an inner room, greeted me politely, begged me to be seated and then launched into a torrent of questions about my previous years journey to ipek. he seemed to think that my life had not been worth a para, and that the rugova route was impossible. "do you know, mademoiselle, that what you did was excessively dangerous?" "sire," said i, "it was your montenegrins who made me do it." he made no reply to this, but lamented that for him such a tour was out of the question. and of all things he desired to see the patriarchia at ipek and the church of dechani and the relics of the sveti kralj. he had been told i had secured photographs of these places. if so, would i give him copies? i promised to send him prints from london. he thanked me, and there was a pause. i wondered if this was what i had been summoned for, and if i now ought to go. then nikita looked at me and suddenly began: "i think, mademoiselle, that you are acquainted with my son-in-law, king petar of serbia." dear me, thought i, this is delicate ground. "i have not that honour, sire," i said. now how far dare i go? i asked myself. let us proceed with caution. "i was in serbia, sire," i continued boldly, "during the lifetime of the--er--late king alexander." nikita looked at me. i looked at nikita. then he heaved a portentous sigh, a feat for which his huge chest specially fitted him. "a sad affair, was it not, mademoiselle?" he asked. and he sighed again. now or never, thought i, is the time for kite-flying. i gazed sadly at nikita; heaved as large a sigh as i was capable of, and said deliberately: "very sad, sire--but perhaps necessary!" the shot told. nikita brought his hand down with a resounding smack on his blue-knickerbockered thigh and cried aloud with the greatest excitement: "mon dieu, but you are right, mademoiselle! a thousand times right! it was necessary, and it is you alone that understand. return, i beg you, to england. explain it to your foreign office--to your politicians--to your diplomatists!" his enthusiasm was boundless and torrential. all would now be well, he assured me. serbia had been saved. if i would go to belgrade all kinds of facilities would be afforded me. i was struck dumb by my own success. a reigning sovereign had given himself away with amazing completeness. i had but dangled the fly and the salmon had gorged it. such a big fish, too. nikita, filled with hopes that the result of this interview would be the resumption