At Rijeka I was taken to the small-arms factory on the river, the

primitive machinery being worked by water power. Here were men busy

fitting new stocks to old rifles, Russian ones. I was told that one

was being prepared for every man in Bosnia and the Herzegovina. When

all were ready they would be smuggled in. I was taken aback at this,

but found when playing the phonograph in the evening to a large

party, that the notion of a not distant war with Austria accompanied

by a great Balkan rising was generally accepted. Still more was I

surprised to hear talk against the Prince. He and his sons were

accused of taking all the best land and doing nothing with it. And

the question of the tobacco regie raged. Podgoritza I found greatly

changed. The outer world had rushed in on it. The tobacco factory

dominated the town. "God willing, we shall burn it down!" said the

populace cheerfully. True, it employed many hands, but they

complained the pay was low, though they admitted that the girls had

never earned anything before. In truth, regular work was a new thing

in Montenegro. The end of the days of indefinite coffee- and

rakia-drinking and recounting of past battles was now approaching.

The middle ages were leaping at one bound into the twentieth

century, and the Montenegrin was angry and puzzled.

The Italians had undertaken to construct a railway, quays, and

harbour works, and offered fair wages for workmen. The Montenegrins

demanded fantastic payment and imagined that by standing out they

would get it. To their astonishment the Italians imported gangs of

far better workmen and finished the work. Then the Montenegrins

cursed the Italians and hated them bitterly. Even Montenegrin

officers openly boasted that they did not know the price of the

regie tobacco as they smoked only contraband, and feeling ran so

high that the Italian Monopol buildings at Antivari were attacked

and damaged.

At Podgoritza I met again the Albanian coachman Shan, who had served

me very faithfully on my previous visits. He took me to the house of

his family. A striking contrast to the Montenegrin houses, it was

spick and span and even pretty, for the Albanian has artistic

instincts, whereas the Montenegrin has none. Left to himself, his

taste is deplorable.

Further signs of change in the land soon showed themselves. Rijeka

had already grumbled. At Danilovgiati I was at once approached by a

youth, who proudly showed me a Serbian paper containing his portrait

and verses by himself. He was lately come from Belgrade, where he

was a student, one of the many who have there been made tools of by

unscrupulous political intriguers. He indignantly inveighed against

the poverty of Montenegro and ascribed every evil to the Prince. I

suggested that the Montenegrins themselves were among the laziest on

God's earth, and could with energy do very much more with their

land. But he blamed "the Government" for everything. No learning,

no progress, he declared, was possible. You could not even import

the books you wanted. He hurled his accusations broadcast and then,

for he took his literary qualifications very seriously, sat down and

wrote a verse about me after considerable labour and much sprawling

over the table.

Danilovgrad was the home of another reformer, Dr. Marusitch, a

Montenegrin who had but recently returned from Manchuria after many

years' service as a surgeon in the Russian Army. A wild,

enthusiastic creature--good-natured, well-meaning and indiscreet. For

Montenegro he was rich. He had just married an extremely beautiful

young woman, and the hospitality of the two was unbounded. He at

once asked me to stay six months as his guest and write, with his

aid, the standard book on Montenegro. Like all who had lived in

Russia, he was a hard drinker and tipped down alcohol in alarming

quantities. He was a strange mixture of the old world and the new.

Took me to see the grave of Bajo Radovitch, who fell in

1876 after having cut off fifteen Turkish heads; admired the bloody

feat, but blamed Germany for keeping up militarism. He had no

opinion at all of the Montenegrin Government, and poured out a

torrent of plans for its reform. He was all for peace, he said, and

wanted to rearrange all the world--which badly needed it. I little

thought what would be his fate when I wished him goodbye, and

promised to look him up next year.

On the road to Nikshitch we came up with the military wagons

carrying weapons, mainly revolvers and sword bayonets up-country for

distribution. Russia had sent a revolver for each man in the

country, and great was the rejoicing. Russia, when she re-armed her

forces, usually bestowed the old weapons lavishly on Montenegro.

Artillery was soon to follow.

We left the road and struck up-country towards Durmitor, along with

a string of pack-horses laden with the Russian weapons which went

with an armed escort. By the way we passed two stones recording

recent murders, showing that blood feuds were not yet extinct.

At Zhabljak, Durmitor, I spent two amusing days seeing the

distribution of arms. Men flocked in from all parts, were delighted

with their new toys, and Russia leapt up in every one's estimation.

No ammunition was served out for, as an officer remarked, "It would

all be wasted." They conversed on blood and battle and clicked their

new revolvers. "How we should like to go over and try them on the

Turks," they said. "But we dare not cross the border because of the

Powers."

Two chetas (battalions) were armed and had left when a bugle sounded

of a sudden. "That means third cheta assemble!" shouted Krsto. All

rushed out. Sure enough a telegram had arrived saying "The Turks are

over the border! Mobilize at once!"

Every one was delighted. The men hustled into their great-coats. The

women stuffed bread and a bottle of rakia into their torbitzas. The

officers saddled their own horses, and in a very short time the

third cheta was drawn up in line on the hill-top by the church in

marching order. The commandant made a speech. They were to behave as

Montenegrin heroes. They were not to fire a shot till the word was

given, and above all they were to do nothing that would "look

crooked in the eyes of Europe." They were a wild lot, in every kind

of ragged garment. Had had a few months' drill, so marched in step

for the first twenty yards. Then they broke rank, howled a war cry

and rushed over the hill like a pack of wolves on the trail, firing

their rifles as they went. Their officer followed on horseback and

as he topped the brow, turned in his saddle and emptied his revolver

over our heads. We sat up all night, every one wild for war.

Bandages and carbolic arrived on a mule. There was in fact some

fighting on the other side of the border between Albanians and Serbs

near Bijelopolje. War, of course, did not ensue. But for some days

the frontier was all lined with troops.

Meanwhile I wanted to go on to Plevlje in Turkish territory, and had

to wait till the local governor thought safe to let me pass. While

waiting I heard here, too, more rumours about the Prince. He was

accused of having poisoned the Minister of Justice, who had died

suddenly after dining with him. The dead man's family lived here.

They said an Austrian doctor had said it was not poison. But there

was much talk about it, and folk seemed unconvinced. I never learnt

the truth of it. The route at length being open, we crossed the

swift Tara at the bottom of a deep gorge on a most primitive ferry

of seven planks lashed together in a triangle, and the Turkish

gendarmerie on the opposite bank furnished guide and horses. Krsto

had to leave his revolver behind, and having never in his life been

out without one, was as nervous as a cat and saw brigands in every

bush. At which I laughed.

Plevlje then was a strange sight. On one side were modern up-to-date

Austrian houses with a park, smart barracks and an inn. On the hills

behind it in immense letters of white stone were the initials of

Franz Josef. The opposite side of the town was occupied by the

Turkish Army, wonderfully smart, as if in competition with Austria,

and a Crescent marked the hill on that side. Between the two lay the

native town and bazar.

The local Turkish Governor was an Albanian, Suliman Pasha. He was

delighted to have an English visitor, explained to me the difficulty

of his position, with enemy lands, Austria, Montenegro and Serbia on

three sides of the Sanjak, all intriguing to obtain it, and enemy

soldiers quartered in the town. Austria he was confident was

preparing to move shortly. He believed that even then they had more

troops in the Sanjak than was allowed by treaty.

He pressed me to continue my journey to Mitrovitza and to Prizren,

where the Russians were, he said, stirring up trouble. But the

strict time limit of my holiday made this impossible. The result of

the Murzsteg arrangement was, according to him, that Austria and

Russia regarded the Peninsula as to be shortly theirs, and were

working hard to extend their spheres of influence. Each, under the

so-called reform schemes, had put their gendarmerie in the districts

they could work from best. They had put England in an unimportant

place. England ought to have insisted on being on the frontiers,

then the importation of arms could have been prevented. As it was,

Austria and Russia were both smuggling arms in by means of their

gendarmerie. Russia wanted to provoke a rising of Christians in

order to rush in "to save the Christians." Austria wanted to foment

differences between Moslem and Catholic, and, being nearest to the

spot, hoped Europe would again request her to "restore order" as

in Bosnia. "Then she will be one day's march nearer Salonika," said

the Pasha. I believe his statements were correct.

I had an introduction to one of the leading Serbs of the town, Filip

Gjurashkovitch. The Gjurashkovitch family had left Montenegro owing,

as we have seen, to a fierce quarrel with the Petrovitches. Had

fled, as usual, to Turkish territory and had, for years, held

official positions, Filip had lived in Durazzo, and was strongly in

favour of the establishment of an independent Albania, declaring

that the trouble with the Albanians was due entirely to Turkish

misrule. If given a chance of education they were among the most

intelligent of the Peninsula. He emphasized this by pointing out

that Suliman Pasha was an Albanian, and only a man of great skill

could have kept the peace for twenty years between two rival

garrisons both in the same town.

It was Whitsuntide, and several thousand pilgrims arrived at the

Troitza Monastery, just outside the town, from Montenegro, Serbia,

and even the Herzegovina, as well as from the surrounding villages.

Especially a number of schoolmasters assembled, all of whom ran

propaganda schools in the district; I thus learnt much of what was

going on. The schoolmasters were nearly all Montenegrins and

regarded the Sanjak as "their claim." They were furious with

Austria, because they had ordered a quantity of the usual propaganda

prints, grotesque portraits of Stefan Dushan, Milosh Obilitch, the

nine Yugovitches, etc., for their schools in order to preach Great

Serbia. Had had them sent by Austrian post so that they might not

fall into the hands of the Turks--and the Austrians had stopped

them. There was no Russian Consul there to see to it. Nor could

Russia be relied on entirely. Two Russian officials had been

recently to Miloshevo Monastery, near Prijepolje, and had declared

the language spoken there to be Bulgar. And it was the place where

St. Sava was buried! They were furious. Russian monks were now

firmly established at Detchani. That was all right. None of them

wanted reforms introduced into the Turkish Empire, because then

there would be no hope of tearing it to pieces. As in Macedonia I

found the approved method was to start a massacre and then cry to

Europe for help. On all sides I heard again that the great Balkan

rising had been stopped by the Russo-Japanese War. The Archimandrite

of the Monastery was bitter about Russia. "What does Russia want

with Manchuria? She has gone to take distant land that is no affair

of hers and has left her brethren in the Balkans unhelped. God's

curse is upon her." They were disgusted that Ferdinand of Bulgaria

had been guest at the German wedding. He was an arch plotter, but a

fool. "He wants to be Tsar of a wide land. But he will not succeed.

He has weakened the Serb position by his propaganda, but he will

never have Constantinople. Russia would trundle him out. She means

to have Constantinople. No one else will." King Petar was Serbia's

only hope, but the propaganda against him was active. England's

attitude about the murder was incomprehensible to them. Had

Alexander not been killed he would have allowed Austria to build and

control a railway through Serbia. The Montenegrins jeered at Serbia,

"a country that has a new ministry every few months." None of them

seemed to think it counted. And none seemed to see the point of all

working for a common cause. Whether they were pro- or anti-Petrovitch,

they took it for granted Montenegro was to be the head of Great

Serbia. For Austria they had nothing but contempt, and said

pleasantly that all Austrian officers looked as if about to bear

twins. You had only to run in a bayonet and the beer would run out.

They had, however, no right to talk of drink, for the pilgrimage was

an orgy of rakia, beer and wine.

From Plevlje I rode to Prijepolje, the furthest military outpost of

Austria. There were but one hundred Christian houses in it.

Nevertheless there was a schoolmaster industriously teaching "Great

Serbia" and "patriotism." The Turkish Government was powerless to

prevent this revolutionary work, as any interference would have

brought protests from the Powers about "persecuting Christians."

The whole of the Sanjak from Mitrovitza to the Austrian frontier was

inhabited almost entirely by Serb-speaking Slavs, the bulk of whom

were Moslem. Large numbers were descendants of those evicted from

Montenegro or Serbia in 1878, and were therefore not well disposed

to either land. Krsto was not at all pleased to find that they had

changed their habitat for the better and settled in land more

fertile than that from which they had been driven. He naively told

me he had hoped they had all starved.

Returning to Plevlje I found great excitement about me, as the

Austrian authorities had hitherto believed that Plevlje could be

reached only by Austrian post cart from the Austrian frontier,

accompanied by an armed escort. An Austrian officer and the Consul

hurried to interview me. They were polite and friendly, but

cross-examined me severely as to the purpose of my visit, and were

obviously displeased that an unarmed tourist could come straight

across country and wander round without their leave or knowledge.

The Consul was a Croat and vehemently anti-Serb. He told me that the

Montenegrins had been guilty of starting the recent fighting near

Bijelopolje, and that it had been led by a Montenegrin officer.

The Montenegrin version was that the Moslem Albanians drove some

sheep on to a Christian grazing-ground; that the Christians drove

them off again and so the fight began; that all the Christians there

wore Montenegrin caps, and so the tale of the officer was untrue.

The Moslems swore to the truth of the officer tale. Judging by the

celerity with which the Montenegrin troops were despatched to the

frontier I incline to think it was "a put up job."

News came in of the sinking of the Russian fleet by the Japanese. It

produced a deep sensation. Formerly every Serb and Montenegrin had

jeered at me because we took so long beating the Boers. Now when it

appeared that heathens, believed to be black, were at the least

inflicting heavy loss on Holy Russia, they felt as though the

universe were falling. I noted in my diary: "Out here one feels very

keenly the tituppy state of politics. Anything likely to upset the

apple-cart should be avoided."

I returned without adventure to Nikshitch, and thence to Nyegushi by

a very bad mountain track.

By now it was midsummer and blazing hot. I stayed at Krsto's hut,

and slept in a sort of outhouse called the "magazin," built to hold

contraband goods by an ancestor. By day the cloudless sky closed

down on us like a lid and shut out every breath of air. The little

cabbages wilted in yellow rows and the inhabitants of Nyegushi, like

true Montenegrins, spent the day smoking and vainly watching for the

sign of a cloud, instead of fetching water for their gardens.

At midday the limestone rocks glared and the shadows lay like ink

blots. Only at night, when a soft wind stole up from the Bocche di

Cattaro, did Nyegushi come to life. Then we gathered on a mound

behind Krsto's hut and the neighbours flocked to hear the "monogram"

as they persistently called my phonograph. So soon as its raucous

voice arose, folk who had gone to bed emerged and joined the party

just as they were. But this merely means that they were barefoot and

revolverless, for no one undresses in the Near East.

My repertoire was limited, and I played "God Save the King" till I

realized what must be the sufferings of the Royal Family. For

Montenegro was all agog about King Edward.

When King Edward was last at Marienbad he had met and spoken with

Prince Mirko and his wife Princess Natalie. Nor was it surprising,

for the Princess was rarely beautiful, her figure as perfect as her

face; and her lovely head was poised upon a flawless neck and

shoulders. She would have shone in any court in Europe, and it was a

hard fate which gave her to the second son of Montenegro. She, poor

young thing, was one of the pawns in the game which the Petrovitch

dynasty was playing for Great Serbia, and she dreamed of Queendom.

Edward VII admired her and the news flashed through Montenegro. It

was in the Glas and the Korbiro (correspondence bureau), the ne plus

ultra of fashionable intelligence. Excitement reached boiling-point

when it was reported that King Edward in person had seen "our Mirko"

and his wife off at the station and promised to call on them in

Montenegro. Montenegro felt it had not lived in vain. So the

villagers called for "God save the King" endlessly, and under the

stars at night tried quite unsuccessfully to learn it, for

Montenegrin music is not on our scale and flows weirdly in semitones

and less than semitones, and in spite of strenuous efforts our

national anthem always trailed off into a hopeless caterwaul. But we

all agreed that King Edward would be very much surprised when he

heard the song and the "monogram" among the rocks of Nyegushi.

He never heard it. For meanwhile strings were pulling and fortunes

changing. I returned to England, leaving the Montenegrins hopeful

that he would come some day, and extorting from me a promise to be

there with the "monogram".

Briefly, the history of my 1905 holiday may be summed up thus.

Russia was powerless, and the dismayed Balkan States could not move

without her. Austria had a free hand, and seemed likely to take

advantage of Russia's plight. (It should be remembered to her credit

that she did not.) There was very marked discontent in Montenegro

against the Prince, and it was quite obviously engineered from

Serbia, and perhaps from Russia too. The struggle for supremacy

between father-in-law and son-in-law, Nikola and Petar, had begun.

But Montenegro still believed itself as indubitably the head of

Great Serbia. Even the malcontents wanted only to lead Montenegro to

Prizren and glory, and were possibly unaware they were being used as

cat's paws. Hatred between Serbia and Bulgaria was growing in

intensity, and a war-spirit was very evidently stimulated by the

fresh arrival of Russian arms in Montenegro.

That the Prince himself was aware of the undercurrent of feeling

against him was shown a little later by his sudden bid for

popularity. To the surprise of all the land and of the foreign

Ministers, including Russia, he granted the Ustav (Constitution) in

November, on St. Luke's Day. Montenegro was to elect a Parliament in

which each tribe would be represented. He would teach his people

self-government before he left them. It was admirably intended.

Montenegro, astonished and excited, at once surcharged all the

postage stamps.

Prince Nikola had made a bold bid for popularity. But he did not

know the web that was already winding around him. On returning to

London I found the Serbian, Alexander Jovitchitch, who had been

informally representing Serbia since the murder of Alexander, much

excited. The British Government, for no visible reason, was coming

to the conclusion that all should be forgotten and forgiven, and

diplomatic relations resumed with Serbia. As it was inconvenient to

have no communication at all, England had adopted a sort of

"We really can't ask you to dinner but you may talk with the cook

over the area railings" attitude towards Jovitchitch and allowed him

to call at the Foreign Office. Now, having suffered long at the back

door, he was much hurt to find that on resumption of relations he

was to retire in favour of M. Militchevitch, the former Serb

Minister, the same who in 1902 had had to clear me of the charge of

being a Karageorgevitch. By way of cheering Jovitchitch I said

things Serb were indeed looking up. Relations were to be resumed

with Serbia, and King Edward had promised to visit Montenegro.

Jovitchitch, to my surprise, fired up. He told me sharply that the

King would never go to Montenegro. It could not be permitted. "But

why?" I asked, astonished. "Because Serbia is the leading state.

It would be an insult to the Serb race if King Edward went to

Cetinje before Belgrade! It has been represented to him and he has

dropped the project."

That King Edward, after all he and the British Government had said

about the murders, should now be so sensitive of Serbia's feelings

that, to please Petar Karageorgevitch, Edward VII should change his

holiday plans, was a little astonishing.

The reason has since then come to light. We were bound to France by

the Entente Cordiale, and France was bound to Russia. Petar

Karageorgevitch was Russia's choice. Russia had quite decided that

Bulgaria, by means of which she had first planned to work, would

never voluntarily be her vassal state and act as land-bridge to

Constantinople, and had therefore, in 1903, definitely preferred

Serbia. But she could not support two heads for Great Serbia. One

must go. England must not hob-nob with Montenegro. This was the

first definite outside sign that there was to be a struggle between

Serbia and Montenegro. France's military policy was tied fast to

Russia's. And in December of that year--1905--we know now that

"military conversations" were begun between France and England. They

appear to have been far reaching. If France and England were to

concoct military plans together it was clear England must recognize

Russia's Balkan agent--Serbia. The situation was the more

remarkable, for Edward VII had always been on the best terms with

Franz Josef. And it was precisely because Alexander Obrenovitch

wished to make alliance with Austria that he was slaughtered. Poor

King Edward may have thought he was peace-making, but he little knew

the Balkans.

In June 1906, England formally resumed relations with Serbia, an

event of far higher import than any one but Russia realized at the

time.

It is a date that ends a chapter of Balkan history. Till then Serbia

was a petty Balkan state whose history had been punctuated by

political murder, who had been aided from time to time by Russia,

but quite as often by Austria, and who had usually been recognized

as part of the Austrian "sphere." She now formed part of the

combine against the Central Powers, and had the support of France,

Russia and England.

Montenegro, on the other hand, "the Tsar's only friend," besung by

Tennyson, bepraised by Gladstone (mainly, it is true, because

neither of these well-meaning gentlemen had ever been there), now

fell from her high position. Montenegro had had the praise of

England's great men, and the political and financial support of

Russia. But from the day when England and France began "military

Conversations" the tables were turned. Prince Nikola might strive

for popularity with "Constitutions," but, unless a miracle

happened, the fate of the Petrovitches was sealed. They would never

ascend the throne of Great Serbia.

And the fate of Europe was sealed too.

CHAPTER TWELVE

BOSNIA AND THE HERZEGOVINA

The Lamp of the Past illumines the Present.

The summer of 1906 saw me no longer restricted to two months'

travel, but free to go where I pleased for as long as I liked. I

planned a great scheme for the study and comparison of the

traditions and customs of all the Balkan races, and in August

started for Bosnia.

In ancient days all Bosnia and the Herzegovina formed part of

Illyria, and was inhabited by the ancestors of the modern Albanian.

Thousands of prehistoric graves, similar to those found also in

Serbia and Albania, are scattered over the land. A huge cemetery

exists at Glasinatz above Serajevo. The multitude of objects found

in these graves reveal a very early Iron Age. Bosnia was one of

Europe's earliest "Sheffields." Iron tools and bronze ornaments show

that their makers were skilled workmen. The ornaments are of

particular interest, as many are very similar in design to those

still worn by Balkan peasantry, and as the bulk of Balkan

silversmiths are Albanians or Vlachs both craft and design would

appear to have been handed down from very ancient days.

The Illyrians were great warriors. "The difficulty," says J. B.

Bury, the eminent historian of the later Roman Empire, "experienced

by the Romans in subduing and incorporating the brave tribes is well

known." Briefly, Rome's first punitive expedition to Illyria was in

230 B.C., but the land was not finally annexed till 169 A.D.

The Romans colonized Illyria. Christianity reached the coast early

and slowly penetrated inland. Illyria formed part of the

Patriarchate of Rome, and Latin became the official language

throughout the Peninsula, save in the extreme south and south-east

coast-line. Up-country and in the mountains the people evidently

retained their own speech, that from which modern Albanian derives.

The people in the plains, in direct contact with the Roman settlers,

developed a sort of bastard Latin speech and doubtless intermarried

largely with the Romans. They and their language exist to-day. They

are known as the Kutzovlachs, and are thickly settled on the old

Roman routes and the hill-tops. As frequently happens in history,

but is invariably forgotten by those who go out to conquer, the

marked individuality of the vanquished speedily re-asserted itself

and gradually absorbed the victor. The Roman Empire shortly split in

twain, and the East was largely ruled by Emperors of native Balkan

blood, Diocletian, Constantine the Great, and many of lesser note.

Greatest of all was Justinian (527-565), who was of Illyrian birth

and succeeded his uncle Justin, a common soldier risen to the

purple.

"In four departments," says Bury, "Justinian has won immortal fame.

In warfare, in architecture, in law and in Church history." To him

the world owes St. Sofia. He and his uncle Justin both strove

against the schism between the Roman and Byzantine Churches, and he

was powerful enough to carry a measure which tended to unity by

modifying, the Synod of Chalcedon without breaking with Rome. And he

prided himself upon speaking Latin. Yet there are those to-day who

would hand over his Church of the Holy Wisdom to Greek propagandists.

He dealt the final blow at Paganism and denounced the Manicheans--of

whom we shall hear much later--and enacted severe laws against them.

The history of modern Bosnia begins in Justinian's reign. The Slavs

then began to threaten the Empire. Tribes began to drift across the

Danube and settle in groups already in the fifth century, but were

stopped for a while by the Huns and Ostrogoths, who swept over the

Peninsula and infested Illyria and Epirus.

"The departure of the Ostrogoths," says Bury, "was like the opening

of a sluice. The Slavs and Bulgars, whom their presence had held

back, were let loose on the Empire. . . . The havoc made by these

barbarians was so serious that Justinian made new lines of defence."

In 548 and 551 A.D. masses of Slavs ravaged the land. "The massacres

and cruelties committed by these barbarians," says Bury, "make the

readers of Procopius shudder." The readers of the Carnegie report of

1913 do likewise.

Among the fortresses built by Justinian was Singidunum, now

Belgrade, which, founded to hold back the Slav, is now his capital.

The invading Slavs were pagan, the natives largely Christian. "The

Christians," says Presbyter Diocleas, "seeing themselves in great

tribulation and persecution, began to gather on the mountains and

tried to construct castles and strongholds that they might escape

from the hands of the Slavs until God should visit and liberate

them." This is probably the origin of the Vlach settlements on

hill-tops and the Albanian mountain strongholds. "The year 581,"

says John of Ephesus, "was famous for the invasion of the accursed

Slavonians . . . who captured cities and forts, and devastated and

burnt, reducing the people to slavery, and made themselves masters

of the country and settled it by main force. Four years have elapsed

and still they live in the land . . . and ravage and burn." The

Romans and their civilization were swept coastward, and in Dalmatia

their civilization never quite died out. In later times the term

"Romanes" was used in a special sense to denote the Romans who

maintained their independence against the Slavs. Ragusa and Cattaro

are some of the towns they founded.

Of the native population many refuged in the Albanian mountains,

where they retained their language. Many doubtless remained and were

absorbed by the Slavs. Traces, however, of the Illyrian still remain

in Bosnia. Tattooing is still common there in many districts.

Tattooing is not a Slav custom, but is specially noticed by classic

authors as a characteristic of the ancient Balkan tribes. Neither

have the Bosnians, as a whole, ever been attached to the Orthodox

Church as have the remainder of the Balkan Slavs.

The early history of the Slavs in the Peninsula is obscure. They

were a tribal people, and were for some time dominated by the

Bulgars. Not till the end of the twelfth century did they unite

under their very able line of Nemanja princes and rise to be a

power. Even under the Nemanjas the local chieftains were

semi-independent, and their inability to cohere proved the undoing

of the realm.

Bosnia at an early date--it is said A.D. 940--was ruled by elective

Bans. Stefan Nemanja the First Crowned of Serbia, called himself

King of Serbia, Dalmatia and Bosnia, but the title seems to have

been but nominal. The Bans did as they pleased and intrigued

constantly with the Hungarians against the Serbs. The Bosniaks, too,

became sharply divided from the Serbs by religion. Already in

Justinian's time many of the Slavs near the Dalmatian coast had been

converted to Christianity by priests from Rome, and much of the

Herzegovina has ever since been Catholic. The mass of the Slavs,

however, were pagan till the ninth century, when they were converted

by the great mission led by Cyril and Methodius from Salonika.

Manicheism had already, in Justinian's time, taken a strong hold in

the Balkan Peninsula. It now became amalgamated with a form of

Christianity. A sect known as the Paulicians arose in Samosata in

Asia Minor, which combined Manicheism with a peculiar reverence for

the teaching of St. Paul. Fiercely persecuted by the Christians,

they revolted, joined with the Mahommedans, and wasted much of Asia

Minor. The Emperor Constantino Copronymus (A.D. 741), in order to

weaken them, transported a great number to Thrace to serve as

frontier guards. John I. Zimisces (A.D. 969) settled another large

body in the Balkan valleys. Thence their doctrines spread fast. It

would be of interest to know how much of their physical qualities

were transmitted also. The new faith was known as Bogumil (dear to

God) from its reputed Slav leader.

The rapidity with which it spread shows the very slight hold

Christianity had as yet taken. The sun and the moon, which figured

prominently in it, probably appealed to the old pre-Christian

nature-worship of the Slavs. Alexius Comnenus vainly tried to

extirpate the heresy by savage persecution. Basil, its high priest,

was burnt alive. The sect fled westward and Bosnia became its

stronghold. Religion in the Middle Ages was a far greater force than

race. Nationality was hardly developed. Bosnia, into which the

Orthodox faith seems to have penetrated but little, if at all, was

thus cut off from the Serb Empire, for the bulk of the Bosniaks were

either Bogumil or Roman Catholic.

We find a great many monuments of the Bogumils scattered through

Bosnia and the Herzegovina. Huge monolithic gravestones often

curiously carved. The sun, the moon and the cross appear as symbols,

and portraits of warriors kilted and armed with bows and arrows and

a cuirass, which give a good idea of the chieftain of the Middle

Ages. The kilt is still worn by the Albanians.

Of the Bogumil creed not much is known, and that chiefly from its

enemies. Catholic and Orthodox alike regarded the heresy with

horror. But even its enemies allowed the Bogumils to have been an

ascetic and temperate people. They abhorred the use of ikons and

images, and unless the subterranean chapel at Jaitza be one, have

left no church. Their doctrines spread into west Europe, and by the

end of the twelfth century had developed in France into the sect of

the Albigenses which was suppressed by the Roman Church with

terrible ferocity. It is of interest that the rayed sun and the moon

are still found in the armorial bearings of South of France

families.

In Bosnia Bogumilism almost superseded all other faiths. In the

twelfth century the Catholic Dalmatians and Hungarians in vain tried

to suppress it by force. In 1189 Kulin Ban, the ruler of Bosnia,

himself turned Bogumil. He recanted under pressure from Rome, but

soon relapsed again, and in spite of an Hungarian crusade which

ravaged the land, Bogumilism triumphed, the palace of the Catholic

Bishop of Kreshevo was burnt and the Catholic episcopacy banished.

The Bishop of Bosnia had to reside in Slavonia, and Bogumilism

spread into Dalmatia and Croatia.

Bosnia was thus completely divided from the Serb Kingdom of Rashia,

which had meanwhile grown up and thrown in its lot with the Orthodox

Church. The Bans, in fact, preferred the assistance of the Catholics

to the risk of conquest by the Serbs, and in 1340 we find Ban Stefan

declaring himself Catholic and agreeing to the establishment of two

Bishoprics.

Stefan Dushan, Serbia's greatest Tsar, was now at the height of his

power. He succeeded in bringing the south of Bosnia under his

control, but the then Ban Stefan Tvrtko (1353) joined with the

Venetians and Hungarians against him. Nor was Bosnia as a whole

added to Serbia. Tsar Dushan died in 1356 and Tvrtko at once

reclaimed his lands, but held them only as a vassal state to

Hungary.

The Serb peoples, divided into many small rival principalities,

fought each other continuously, though the enemy which was to

overwhelm them all was already advancing upon them. The Turk who, be

it remembered, had entered Europe at the invitation of the Greeks,

to aid them against the attack of Tsar Dushan, had firmly

established themselves in the peninsula. Nevertheless the rival

native princelings intrigued one against the other, and some even

enlisted the help of the Turk instead of banding together against

him. The Balkans were an easy prey for any strong foe.

Even after the Turks had beaten the Serbs severely, Stefan Tvrtko,

King of Bosnia, seems only to have regarded this as an advantage to

himself. He continued extending his realm; had himself crowned "King

of Bosnia, Serbia and the coastland" in 1375, and was then the most

powerful of the Balkan rulers. As an ally of King Lazar, who ruled

over a much reduced Serbia, he, too, sent an army to Kosovo when,

far too late, the Balkan people at last united against the Turk. But

they lost the day. Union Was impossible to them, and a large part of

the Serb Army deserted to the enemy.

Even then the Balkan princelings failed to recognize their danger.

Tvrtko, still bent on extending his realm, Instead of opposing the

Turks, who did not follow up their victory, gave all his energies to

waging war against the Croats and Dalmatians, who at that time were

under the King of Hungary. Tvrtko died in 1391, bequeathing a big

Bosnia to his heir. But all mediaeval Balkan States were big only

during the lifetime of their creator. Tvrtko's brother soon lost the

newly acquired Croatian and Dalmatian districts, and Bosnia was

further weakened by the breaking off of what is now known as the

Herzegovina. It had for long had its own chiefs. One stronger than

usual now arose, Sandalj Ranitch. The Turk was almost at the gate,

but Sandalj's only object was to make himself a state independent of

Bosnia. Kosovo had indeed taught the South Slavs nothing.

The advancing Turk began raiding Bosnia and employed Serbian troops.

The Ragusa archives record: "In January 1398, the son of Bajazet,

with a great number of Turks and Slavs, entered Bosnia." Stefan

Ostoja was now King of Bosnia, but he too seems to have been more

intent upon annexing Ragusa than in organizing defence against the

Turk. Nor can we stop to unravel the complicated series of quarrels

of one Slav prince with another, of their intrigues with Venice,

with Hungary, with Ragusa, each playing for his own hand, though the

Turks were now established as near as Uskub, and in 1415 invaded

Bosnia for the third time. Sigismund, King of Hungary, alone of the

neighbouring princes, realized the gravity of the situation and sent

an army against the Turks, only to find that the Herzegovina sided

with the Turks against him. As a result, we learn from the Ragusa

archives, "the whole of Bosnia is laid waste and the barons are

preparing to exterminate each other."

Venice meanwhile crept down the coast and occupied much of Dalmatia,

while the South Slavs fought each other.

Nationality is the craze of to-day. Religion, in the Middle Ages,

played a similar part. Catholic, Orthodox, and Bogumil, hated each

other more than they hated the less known Turk. Each was willing to

use him against the other.

People of the same race and language then fought each other because

they differed about religion. To-day, even holding the same

religious views, they fight in the sacred name of nationality. But

then, as now, there were a few people who recognized the folly of

the fashionable differences. At the Council of Basel in 1431 an

effort was made to induce the Balkan chiefs, Catholic, Orthodox and

even Bogumil, to send delegates to Basel with a view to ending

religious strife and opposing a united front to the Turk.

It was vain. The King of Bosnia, and Stefan, Despot of Serbia,

declared war on each other and fought for several years. And

Sandalj, Lord of the Herzegovina, sided with the Serbs and bought of

the Sultan the right to take Bosnia. They failed to do so, but their

efforts certainly helped the final destruction of Slav independence.

Sandalj's successor, Stefan Kosatch, assumed the title Duke of Sava

(whence "Herzegovina" the Duchy), became Bogumil and consequently

fought both the Orthodox of Serbia and the Catholics of Ragusa. And

ever the Turk advanced slowly and always found a Slav chief ready to

side with him against a neighbour. At Fotcha, in the Herzegovina, I

bought a bracelet of a silversmith, who related that his ancestor

was the man who had guided the Turks into the district.

Constantinople fell in 1453, and left the Sultan free to complete

the conquest of the Balkans. The Hungarians, led by the great

Hunyadi, opposed him. But the Orthodox Serbs, led by their Despot

George Brankovitch, whose ancestor had deserted to the Turks at

Kosovo, hated Catholicism more than Islam, and sided with the Turk

against Hunyadi.

The end soon came. The last King of Bosnia, Stefan Tomashovitch, a

Catholic, asked help of the Pope, and endeavoured to raise troops

among the Catholics of Dalmatia and Croatia. This enraged his

Bogumil subjects, who preferred the Turks. The Sultan's army met

little resistance; Stefan was taken prisoner and beheaded by the

Turks in 1463, and soon all Bosnia was included in the Turkish

Empire. As in other Balkan lands, the rights of the Christians were

recognized. The Franciscans were appointed as their spiritual head,

and several Franciscan monasteries date from these early days.

The Bogumils in large numbers adopted Islam, with which, in its

abhorrence of ikons and images, and in its Monotheism, they were in

greater sympathy than with either of the Christian Churches, both of

which had persecuted them. But Bogumilism lasted into the nineteenth

century, possibly into the twentieth, for a case was reported to me

in 1911.

Those Christians who objected to Turkish rule fled south into

Montenegro, especially from the Herzegovina, which was finally

overthrown by the Turks in 1484.

Nor did the enmity between the Bosniaks and the Serbs cease now that

they were under a common foe. Throughout the histories of Serbia and

Montenegro we find that the Moslems of Bosnia and the Herzegovina

were their bitterest enemies and that the armies, sent against them

by the Sultans were very largely recruited from these districts. The

sense of nationality did not begin to develop until very much later.

Under the Turk the feudal system of the pre-Turk days continued. We

get a clear idea of the pre-Turk social conditions from the laws of

Tsar Stefan Dushan, which show the strongly marked class difference

of noble and serf. The noble was almost tax-free, but had to supply

troops. The serf was tied to the land, and could only leave it with

his lord's permission. Different punishments were inflicted upon

nobles and serfs, the nobles' being naturally the lighter. So

independent was the noble that he could build his own church or

monastery in his land and chose its bishop. The serfs were judged by

the noble upon whose land they were. They paid taxes; had to give

him two days' work a week, and three if he had vineyards; cut hay

and corn for him, and so forth. In pre-Turk days the rule of the

chieftain seems to have been severe. Under the Turk the system

continued, and the "Turk" of many a ballad who oppresses his

Christian peasant was in fact the Slav feudal nobleman who, having

turned Moslem carried on the ancestral tradition, and to the tyranny

of the feudal noble added religious intolerance.

There was little organized government under the Turks. The

traditional ballads give us vivid pictures of the heyduks, or

brigands. Highway robbery up till, and well into, the nineteenth

century was both a lucrative business and a sport which well suited

the lazy but adventurous spirit of the people. It perpetuated in

fact the everlasting raids of one noble against another in pre-Turk

days. To this day a Montenegrin "junak" delights in pillaging a

village. But continuous work is abhorrent to him.

Armed Turkish patrols guarded the main trade routes between Ragusa,

Constantinople and Vienna. They cleared the route from time to time,

and then woe to the captured heyduk, whether Moslem or Christian.

Heavy the ransom to buy his freedom. But brigandage was rampant

before the Turk came, and, as we have seen, the history of the

Peninsula was one of incessant bloodshed and disorder. The Turk, in

fact, showed more toleration for his Balkan subjects than they did

for each other. Each aimed at the extermination of the other.

Probably, had not the Turk overwhelmed them all, one or other would

have ultimately predominated, and absorbed or exterminated the rest.

Under the Turk all survived. He slapped them each impartially and

allowed no one to exterminate the other. Nor was their hatred of the

Turk ever great enough to cause them to combine against him till

1912, and then they were at each other's throats again so soon as he

was removed.

Though, as we have seen, Montenegro was recruited by refugees from

Bosnia, the converse also holds good. Many a Serb and Montenegrin

flying from blood-vengeance, many a Slav criminal flying from

Austrian justice, refuged in Turkish territory and turned Moslem.

Nor when, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, the Serbs

struck for independence did Bosnia join them. The Slav Vezir and the

Pashas of Bosnia led great armies against them. By then the whole

situation had changed, however. The ebb-tide of the Turk had begun.

Austria and Russia in the eighteenth century had already decided

upon the partition of his lands. Russia thought and cared only for

Constantinople and the way there. Bosnia was recognized as Austria's

sphere. The long wars and the liberation of the Serbs had effects in

Bosnia and the Herzegovina. Revolts, largely agrarian, of the

Christians began to take place. The big landowners, though Slavs,

were Moslems. Their peasants were largely Christian. In 1849 a great

rising was followed by the flight of thousands of Christian peasants

into Austria, who in time of stress has often been the South Slav's

only friend. The Herzegovinians, encouraged and incited by the

Montenegrins on their borders, rose frequently, and it was their

great rising of 1875 which started the Russo-Turkish War of 1877.

Before declaring war, however, Russia came to an agreement with

Austria about Bosnia. It was understood that Austria should receive

Bosnia on condition that she took no part in the war. Russia did not

include this in the Treaty of San Stefano, but the scheme received

the strongest support at the Congress of Berlin. The aim of both

England and Germany was to hold back the ever forward-pressing Slav

forces. Great Britain pledged herself to Austria previous to the

Congress. "Le Gouvernement de Sa Majeste Britannique s'engage a

soutenir tout proposition concernant la Bosnie que le Gouvernement

Austro-Hongroise (sic) jugera a propos de faire au Congres."

Austria was offered Bosnia without reservation, and could then and

there have annexed it. It was only doubt on Austria's part which led

her to choose "administration" in place of annexation. The decision

of the Congress at once caused trouble. The mass of the Bosnian

Moslems violently opposed separation from Turkey, and the

Herzegovinians, who had risen with a view to union with Montenegro,

were equally opposed to Austria. The Austrian Army in 1878 met with

great resistance, and only after heavy losses and four months'

fighting finally subdued the land. The Herzegovinians declared to me

that they only laid down their arms at the request of the Prince of

Montenegro, under the understanding that Austrian administration was

to be but temporary, but under the terms of the Treaty no

time-limit was mentioned.

That the arrangement was intended by the Powers to be permanent

appears from the text now (1919) published from the Vienna archives

under date June 18, 1881, whereby the Courts of Russia, Germany and

Austria-Hungary agree that "Austria shall annex these two provinces

at the moment she judges opportune." This agreement was renewed in

1884. That the Powers considered the provinces as definitely annexed

is shown by the fact that when in 1881 Austria introduced military

conscription and recruited regiments for her own army no objection

was made, nor did any Power intervene when Austria put down by force

the resultant insurrection. On the contrary they most sternly

ordered the Prince of Montenegro to prevent his men from rushing to

the aid of the insurgents. Nor did Europe make any protest when the

capitulations were abolished by Austria, though the land was

nominally still a Turkish province. And Austrian coinage soon

entirely replaced Turkish money.

Up till this time it is important to note that Russia, was taking no

steps with regard to claiming Bosnia for her Pan-Slav schemes. Her

immediate aim was Constantinople, and she had planned to obtain it

by means of a large Bulgaria, which should be a vassal state. But

Bulgaria soon struck for complete independence and showed that she

would never be Russia's puppet, and elected Prince Ferdinand in

defiance of the Tsar with the express intention of breaking away

from Russian influence.

Russia therefore finally turned towards the Great Serbian Idea,

which otherwise she would probably not have taken up till the

annexation of Constantinople had been accomplished.

Till now, Russia had recognized the Montenegrin dynasty as the

leader of Great Serbism. She now turned towards Serbia. It was in a

far better geographical position and could supply a much larger

army, and Montenegro could still be used as a tool.

The result of this was that when in 1897 the Emperor Franz Josef and

Goluchowski went to Petersburg and asked for a confirmation of the

agreement of 1881, "that the territorial advantages recognized to

Austria-Hungary by the Berlin Treaty are and remain acquired by

Austria-Hungary and therefore the possession of Bosnia-Herzegovina

and the Sanjak of Novibazar cannot form matters of discussion; the

Austro-Hungarian Government reserving to itself the right of

substituting for the actual title of occupation and garrisoning,

that of annexation."

Russia had now other plans and replied "the annexation of the two

provinces would give rise to more extensive questions which would

necessitate a special examination in time and place."

And in the summer of that very year the Tsar received Petar

Karageorgevitch, the exiled claimant to the Serbian throne, and

started upon her Great Serbian intrigue.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

BOSNIA IN 1906. THE PLOT THICKENS.

In the summer of 1906, when I visited Bosnia, the plot was already

far advanced. Petar Karageorgevitch was on the throne of Serbia, and

Russia, who had had a bad set-back in the Far East, was again

turning Balkanwards.

To visit Bosnia a visa was necessary, a sure sign that a land

suffers from "unrest." To obtain it I went to the Austrian Embassy.

The young gentleman who attended to passports was out, and I was

bidden sit on a bench with a number of rather poverty-stricken

Austrians. When the gentleman appeared he was vexed to find so much

work, and refused most of the applicants roughly. Their papers were

incorrect or he was dissatisfied with their reasons for wishing to

return home. One "cheeked" him considerably in German, and I

laughed. It therefore never occurred to him that I was English. I am

in fact, when travelling, rarely taken for English, which is often

convenient. He addressed me sharply in German: "You want to go to

Bosnia?"

"Yes, please." He took me for a Bosnian, and I let him do

it.

"When did you leave Bosnia?"

"In the summer of 1900."

"What have you been doing in London?"

"Writing and other things."

This alarmed him and he said sternly: "You must tell me exactly why

you left Bosnia."

"Because I am English," I said politely, "and it was time to come

home."

I pressed my passport upon him, which he had been too haughty to

look at before. Then there was hurrying and scurrying and orders and

abuse of the doorkeeper and much confusion, and I was conducted to a

drawing-room and apologized to (for having been treated as an

Austrian subject) and given the visa. I enjoyed the episode

immensely, and incidentally learnt how the official mind regarded

Bosniaks. My previous experience in Serbia caused me to go in search

of a new-laid Serbian visa also, in case I wished to cross the

frontier. Militchevitch this time was very friendly, joked about the

awful bill for cypher telegrams which I had run up for the Serbian

Government in 1902, and promised to send me some introductions to

leading Bosniaks.

At Trieste great events were in progress. The Emperor Franz Joseph

was to hold big military manoeuvres at Trebinje in the Herzegovina

and a naval review at Ragusa. The air was full of political

electricity, flags and decorations, and the coasting steamer was

full of police spies. All papers and passports were scrutinized

carefully at each landing-stage. The Kaiser had not visited Dalmatia

for very many years, and the populace was delighted. Dalmatia

complained bitterly that money was poured into Bosnia and nothing

done for her. Now things no doubt would look up.

Then we touched at Lesina and learnt that the Kaiser was unwell and

that his heir presumptive, the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, would

replace him.

"I know what is the matter with him," said the captain to me: "he

has political fever. Something has happened."

The tale ran round that the Kaiser had intended after the manoeuvres

to announce the annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina. But that Abdul

Hamid, apt at expedients, had learnt this fact, and had sent Franz

Josef a polite message regretting that he was unable in person to

receive His Majesty on this, his first visit to a Turkish province,

but assuring him that his reception should be in every way suitable.

Se non vero, ben trovato. Possibly true, for it came out later that

Goluchowski actually broached the subject to Russia in the summer of

1906 and Russia raised objections, and may very probably have

informed Abdul.

The news caused great disappointment. The old Kaiser was genuinely

respected and even loved. Towns that were poor had spent much to do

him honour. Perhaps this was one of the "tides in the affairs of men"

and nations, that can be taken once and once only. The change of

feeling was marked at all our stopping-places. It was very late when

we reached Ragusa, and a gauntlet of police had to be run. The town

was crammed. Next day the great grey warships lay off the coast and

the army was arriving, disembarking and marching up to Trebinje. No

stranger might go there without a special pass. I did not ask for

one, as in such cases one sees only what one is meant to see, which

is misleading. So I got up at 4 a.m. and went to look at the army.

It was put to an unusual test in Europe, as it had to rely largely

on mule transport. Having done much pack-saddle travel myself, I

noted with interest that the Bosniak regiments were the only ones

who knew how to "pack-saddle." With most of the others the saddles

rolled under at once, or halfway up the road, which is worse. The

army marched off early. I then made the acquaintance of a pretty

girl, who was engaged to one of the officers, and from her later

heard all that happened. This I supplemented by sitting in the cafe

when the officers came back and hearing their curses. The men were

dead-beat. The water supply had broken down, so had the food. The

burning limestone karst had been too much for the men from the

plains, and they broke down badly. Only the Croats and Bosniaks had

stood the test. The manoeuvres were a failure.

The arrival of the Archduke and suite was very quiet. Ragusa was

decorated entirely with Slav colours. Only on the Government offices

did the yellow and black of Austria appear. At three in the

afternoon the Archduke Franz Ferdinand was to drive through the

town, whose broad main street is a fine background for a procession.

It was crammed with a gay throng, and the national dress of Ragusa

can be very gay indeed. All were talking and laughing.

Then came the solemn strains of "Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser," the

finest of all national anthems, and a sudden hush fell on the crowd.

A silence absolute and unbroken that continued till the unhappy man,

who sat motionless and erect, his face as blanched as a corpse,

drove out of the further gate of the town. Then the crowd burst into

one huge laugh. So complete was the demonstration that it was

certainly pre-arranged.

"Write to the papers! write to the papers!" cried several who knew

me, in high glee. Then Prince Danilo passed, and the crowd cried

"Zhivio!"

I met The Times correspondent and said: "Well, that was a display.

You have something to write about now!" But he replied that as we

were on friendly terms with Austria he should certainly not report

it. Nor did the papers to which I wrote think fit to publish this

highly significant affair. Thus is the trend of Foreign Affairs

hidden from the public.

Editors might as well often do without their correspondents, for

they tell them beforehand what to emphasize, or cut the important

news out of their telegrams.

The Archduke arrived with a portmanteau full of medals, and took

them all away with him again. His only enthusiastic reception was

from the deputation of Albanian Bishops and other ecclesiasts who

came from Scutari to greet him. He was a brave man, for after the

demonstration he went into the town on foot almost unescorted, and

during the drive, though he must have expected a bomb every moment,

he showed no loss of self-control save the blanching of his face.

From Ragusa I went to Serajevo. I took the phonograph to collect

songs, and wished specially to collect tattoo patterns and see the

Bogumil and all other local historical remains, but was badly

hampered, nor is it my purpose here to describe things anthropological.

Had I been left to my own devices I should doubtless have made

larger collections and seen less of the political situation. But the

Austrian police, like the Serbian in 1902, insisted on rubbing my

nose in it.

Travel in the interior was forbidden without a special pass. The

British Consul was absent, and had referred me to his Italian

colleague who muddled the business badly, whether because he was

stupid or for reasons of his own, I did not find out. A little of

both, I think. I was asked to call at a certain hour on the Governor

of Serajevo. He was a Croat, spoke German to me and told me it was

the wrong time of year to travel in Bosnia. Much surprised, I said I

had wintered in Macedonia and could stand anything. He then spoke

Serb, and I foolishly replied in the same tongue. I told him all I

wanted was the permit, and that I could shift for myself. He

objected that the food was bad; native houses dirty; winter near

--such a journey as I proposed among the people in short impossible.

I replied I was used to bugs, lice and fleas, could sleep on the

ground and eat anything. All I wanted was a pony and a respectable

guide. He stated that unfortunately there were no guides in Bosnia,

so I said if I could have a pony I would find the way myself by map.

Remembering my trump card at the Serb Legation, I asked if the

country were in too dangerous a state. He hastened to say it was

not. At last, countered at every point, he offered to lend me his

man-servant for a fortnight; could not spare him longer. I should

then have seen enough and could return to England. I said I could

not so inconvenience him; that I could not get any work done in the

time and that I thought of staying months not weeks. He said he

would think it over and I was to call again. Next time he was all

smiles and had a map ready. "Here," he said, "is your route. Here is

a letter"--he pointed to a large pile--"for the Bezirksvorsteher of

every place. You will present it on your arrival and do nothing till

the authorities have arranged for you. The tour will take three

weeks, and then you will go back to England." It was a great

disappointment to me. You cannot get a native to tell you folk-tales

while you draw the interior of his hut, if a policeman is sitting

waiting till it is done. Nor can you live with a family and see its

habits. Just as I had plodded round Serbia in spite of the police,

so I would not be put off Bosnia, but to this day I regret the great

amount of most interesting material that was there at my hand and

which I could not gather. Bosnia was a mine of old-world lore and

belief. As in Serbia, however, it was obvious that there was

something the authorities wanted to conceal. And as "DORA" had not

yet been born in England the affair seemed to me unutterably silly

and tiresome. The first part of the journey I was, for all practical

purposes, under arrest. Met on arrival everywhere by a most polite

young official, who told me his whole time was at my disposal. "This

is a mosque," he said, "this is a Turkish coffee-house. We will have

a cup of coffee. This is the Catholic Church, or Orthodox, as the

case might be." We inspected the school, and took a walk in the

environs. "Now you have seen all. I will go with you to the post

office and get a place for you on the diligence to-morrow. It starts

at eight." The evening was spent in the hotel where all the Beamters

had their meals. I tried to get information about local customs.

Sometimes my hosts supplied them. More often the topic bored them.

We talked of Vienna and London. After a good deal of this I

reflected I was losing time and money. Every one was politeness and

kindness itself. But I missed the long evenings in Albanian or

Montenegrin huts round the fire; the talk and the doings. The

Austrian official who sighed only for the Opera or the Ringstrasse

and thought himself an exile wearied me. But as I was not allowed to

study the native I had to study him. I startled some of them one

night when they asked me as usual, how I liked Bosnia, by telling

them that so far I had seen none of it, nothing but the Austrian

occupation. This sort of thing went on a bit longer. Then on the

Herzegovinian frontier I accidentally picked up an official to whom

I had no letter of introduction. A cheery, enterprising individual

who said he did not know to which of the many races of the Empire he

belonged--and did not care. Was a geologist and a bit of an

antiquarian. Took me up an 8,000 foot mountain and incidentally

almost killed me. For on the desolate summit we surprised a chamois

at close quarters, which snuffed us, gathered its feet and jumped

over what looked like a precipice, though it had footholds for

chamois. My new friend insisted on following it, as the shortest way

down. When we were on a slippery grass slope so steep I could see

the bottom of the valley a thousand feet below between my own boots,

and the native servant lad refused to further risk his life, I too

struck, and the chase was given up. When we arrived at a gendarmerie

outpost on the night of the second day, and I was nearly dead-beat

after seventeen hours' continuous struggle over many rocks and other

obstacles, he confessed he had had no idea of the way. The stolid

gendarmerie captain was appalled. "But if the Fraulein had died?" he

asked. "Ah, but I knew she was English!" cried the other, "they can

do these things. She will be all right to-morrow." He was delighted

with the exploit, and suggested all kinds of places I should go to.

I told him about my route and my previous experiences. He roared

with laughter. Said it was silly nonsense. Some of the Serajevo

people were too stupid for words. "Have you a passport? And it is in

order. Very well. You are a British subject. They dare not stop you.

Why should they? They ought to be glad to get tourists, and they

won't if they go on like this. Burn all those letters and go where

you please."

He made me a list of places where I should find Bogumil monuments,

tattooed people, Roman remains and so forth. Told me that in his

opinion Austria was wasting time and money in the provinces. The

changes were too quick for the people; they preferred the old

Turkish tracks and pack beasts to carts and the new roads, and that

they suspected everything new. He himself got on with the people

excellently, took me into several houses where they had portraits of

Prince Nikola of Montenegro, and chaffed them about wanting to join

that land. "They are all of them plotting across the border," he

said, laughing. "They would far rather pig along like the

Montenegrins. I've tried hard to persuade them to use iron ploughs.

Our government supplies them at less than cost price. But they

won't. They say, 'No, it is a Schwab thing.' We have spent no end of

money trying to improve the live stock: bulls, stallions, rams,

boars of the finest breeds. We sent a splendid boar last year to a

village in charge of a man who was supposed to be reliable. And when

Christmas came he killed it, roasted it and asked all the village to

a feast. It was worth a lot of money. He only said that there was so

much meat on it, it seemed a pity to let it live! It will take them

several generations to get new ideas. Why worry. All this talk of

going to Salonika is folly. This place is too much for us." His own

job were beautiful irrigation works which kept a whole district

fertile through the heats of summer. "But," he laughed, "the people

are not a bit pleased. They say that in the old days it rained when

it was God's will. They have quite forgotten they lost most of their

crops every year from the drought. This is a Schwab thing, so they

think it bad." On parting with him I took his advice and went where

I liked. I was "shadowed" a good deal and my correspondence was

generally ten days late, but otherwise was not interfered with.

Living in native houses and going as guest to festivities, weddings,

etc., as I had done in other Balkan lands was, however, impossible.

It would have got my hosts into trouble. As it was, the wife of an

official was very angry when I said I could get a meal in any

village. For she declared she and her husband had even been refused

coffee, the people all vowing they had none.

The reason for all the fuss was that the authorities were trying to

hide the fact that the country was going through a very bad crisis,

which was further exacerbated by the rumoured annexation; the open

talk of an advance towards Salonika; and the renewed political

activity of Russia and Serbia, which had now got England installed

again at Belgrade.

Speaking Serb, I found without difficulty that there was a very

strong Serb propaganda being worked from Belgrade among the

Orthodox, who at that time formed nearly two-fifths of the native

population. Next in number were the Moslems and after them the

Catholics, lastly several thousand Spanish Jews. Orthodox, Moslem

and Catholic native populations were entirely Slavonic. There was an

acute division between the Orthodox and the other two parties.

The Catholics and even some of the Moslems called themselves Croat,

and hated the term Serb. I had heard a report that in Croatia a

reconciliation between Serb and Croat had taken place. None was to

be seen in Bosnia. Only in the Herzegovina did the Catholic natives

wish union with Montenegro.

The bulk of the Moslems looked longingly towards Turkey. The

Orthodox, on the other hand, were violently pro-Serb, and feelings

between Austria and Serbia had risen to fever heat.

Towards the end of 1905, Pashitch, then Prime Minister of Serbia,

though already working hard against Bulgaria in Macedonia, signed a

secret commercial convention with that country providing for the

free interchange of goods with the exception of certain specified

objects, and binding the two to a monetary convention and

assimilation of weights and measures. As both countries produced

much the same articles the arrangement did not appear to be likely

to stimulate trade and as the racial hatred and rivalry of the two

over the unsettled Macedonian scheme was extreme, the permanence of

the arrangement was in any case doubtful.

Serbia was in dire need of a loan, and was on the point of

concluding one for 70,000,000 francs. Part of this was to be

supplied by the Vienna Bank, and both Serbia and Bulgaria were

negotiating new commercial treaties with Austria. Serbia thought

best therefore to keep the transaction with Bulgaria quiet. But just

as business was almost concluded with Austria, a Bulgarian newspaper

blurted out the Bulgar-Serb convention. The Austria-Hungarian

Government demanded at once to see the document, and all business

came to a standstill. Nor was this surprising, for Petar I, Pashitch

and the regicide group were notoriously Russia's proteges, and any

secret arrangement on their part was likely to be directed against

Austria.

Austria closed her frontier to Serbian live stock.

Serbia was on the bubble. England had stipulated that the regicides

were to be retired from power, as a condition of resuming diplomatic

relations. (A stipulation that showed either that the Foreign Office

little knew the Balkans, or that it knew very well that the treaty

was a farce and did not care.) The regicide gang was infuriated and

plotted the assassination of their opponents who wished by legal

means to settle the question. But, as was delicately expressed by

The Times correspondent, "it is stated that the police authorities

refused to afford facilities for the execution of the plot, which

consequently failed." Pity indeed that the police of Serbia did not

remain "conscientious objectors" to plots of assassination. And

about the same time when Vladan Georgevitch was sentenced to six

months' imprisonment for "revealing state secrets," in The End of a

Dynasty, the author in court denounced King Petar as the humble

instrument of Russian policy.

Austria insisted on modifications to the Serbo-Bulgar convention;

Turkey too demanded an alteration.

But by the time I arrived in Bosnia this affair was thrown quite

into the shade by a new step on Serbia's part. She decided to

purchase the artillery for her reconstructed army from the Creusot

works in France. This so infuriated Austria that she declared a

complete boycott of all Serbian goods. Serbia retorted and the

frontiers were absolutely closed; so tightly indeed that along the

Serbian frontier I found the officials complained of a meat

shortage, and a great trade in smuggled fowls was run at night.

Feeling ran very high. Bosnia being under military occupation

naturally bristled with officers and men. The officers talked very

freely. Not once did I ever hear the Serbo-Bulgar convention

mentioned. It was always the guns. They said it was not a question

of trade in armaments. That did not matter. It was the question of

policy. Serbia showed plainly now to all the world that she was

ranged on the side of Russia and France against the Central Powers.

"She has joined the Franco-Russian combine against us." They were

quite right too, though being then unaccustomed to war, I thought

their suspicions unreasonable. And neither I nor they knew that this

step had followed immediately on the commencement of "military

conversations" between France and England. But that this arming of

Serbia was directly connected with the ringing-in policy of France

and Russia is now obvious. Poor Edward VII may have thought he was

peace-making, when he let Petar Karageorgevitch's gory past be

forgotten and forgiven, and agreed to give up his visit to

Montenegro so as not to wound that monarch's sensitive feelings--but

he little knew the Balkans.

Scarcely one of the Austrian military or civil authorities I spoke

with had ever visited Serbia or Montenegro. They all regarded the

two as semi-savage lands used as tools against them by Russia. When

I arrived at Vishegrad, close on the Serb frontier, feeling was

running high. Serbia showed no sign of giving way as had been

expected. I told the officials their boycott was bound to fail, as

you cannot starve out a people whose main assets are maize and pigs.

"You will see I am right. They will simply go on eating pigs till

you are tired." The Bezirksvorsteher was annoyed at this, but

interested. I said "Get me a horse and a guide, and I will go into

Serbia and see." He retorted It was impossible as the frontier was

closed, but he hired me the horse and a very black gypsy, a wild

enough creature, and I went.

Was halted at the border blockhouse, which the black gypsy thought

unpassable, but the Serbs were rather pleased to be inspected,

telephoned through to Uzhitza, and I rode on. An amusing sidelight

was the surprise of the gypsy at finding the same language both

sides of the border. "But they talk Bosniak!" he cried.

An aged peasant on horseback joined me and asked so many questions

about London that I thought he knew something about it till he asked

"Is it a free country?"

He was puzzled when I said, "Yes."

"But it is under Austria," he protested.

"No, no," said I, "it is a free country."

"Thank God," said the old boy, "and I believed it was under Austria.

Bogati--so many people are under Austria. But London is not."

In Serbia I found I had guessed right. "In spite of the horrible

curse, nobody seemed a penny the worse." Uzhitza was in high spirits

and reminisced my visit of 1902. They referred with triumph to the

murder of Alexander. Since that, everything had been going

splendidly. The army was everything and all possible money was to be

spent on it. If Alexander had lived he would have made an alliance

with Austria and have stinted the army. The army and Great Serbia

was the cry. They were all for Russia. As for the wretched Draga,

the ladies told me that she had received them at some function or

another with powder all over her face. Imagine having to kiss the

hand of such a fallen woman! (Fashions have changed now, or England

would be a female slaughterhouse.) All the officers killed in her

defence were stated to have been her paramours. Nothing was too bad

for her. King Petar was described as one who would never interfere

with the army. There was much enthusiasm over the resumed relations

with England. It was obvious that no one believed that the regicides

would really go; their departure was a mere matter of form. As for

the boycott, they laughed and told funny tales. A bride had ordered

her whole trousseau at Vienna. The wedding was fixed. But the

frontier was closed. Her girl friends gallantly went to Vienna in

their oldest garments; changed and came back, rather stout but

triumphant, clothed in the whole trousseau. As for export, by the

aid of France and England they would export to Egypt and Marseilles

via Salonika. The French artillery would come in by the same route.

French artillery they intended to have.

I was much interested, but as I had brought no baggage could not go

further into Serbia. The Mayor gave me a mounted gendarme as escort

to the frontier.

This impressed the Vishegrad authorities much, as did the fact that

I had got across the frontier at all. The Bezirksvorsteher asked at

once what I had learnt in Serbia, and if the frontier would soon be

open.

"I do not know," said I.

"What do you think?" said he.

"I think not."

"Our Minister at Belgrade is of the same opinion," he replied. In

truth the officers who had protested that Serbia had now openly

joined the Russo-French combine were right. And what is more,

through our Entente with France, we too now, consciously or not,

were tools used by Russia for the making of Great Serbia and

furthering Pan-Slav ambition. Serbia began to feel it safe to pull

long noses at Austria. That the Austrians on the other hand regarded

their occupation of Bosnia as permanent was clear. No nation merely

on a temporary job of "putting things straight" would have expended

the vast sums and effort needed to bring a half-wild Turkish

province in twenty-eight years up to a high state of material

well-being. The mountain roads are second to none in Europe. Mines,

agriculture and every possible industry were being developed

regardless of expense, by up-to-date methods.

"The officials," I noted in my diary, "give one the impression of

being overworked." Everything was centralized and had to go through

the Konak. They wrestled with a mass of detail and mostly felt like

exiles in a wild land. The large majority were Slavs--either Poles,

Croats or Bosniaks, and these got on much better with the populace

than the Magyars or Germans, of whom I met a few. The mistake of the

Government was in trying to go too fast. A leap in twenty-eight

years from the twelfth century or thereabouts to the twentieth was

too much. The peasant intensely conservative by nature resented

every change. "Better that a village should fall than a custom" is a

South Slav proverb which I have heard quoted with approval. An

astonishing amount of work had been done and admirably done. Future

generations will profit by it. But the peasant who had had all his

ideas and habits upheaved had had time to forget the oppression of

the Turk, but remembered, with kindness, his slop-dawdle tolerance,

This happens, I believe, in every land "freed" from the Turk. The

people vaguely expect an earthly paradise where every one will do as

he pleases, and find to their dismay that you can no longer evade

the sheep-tax by tipping the hodja to let you put your flock on

"vakuf" land. The Christian loses his privilege and has to serve in

the army which he hates. He cannot run to a foreign consul for

support against his Moslem neighbour, nor earn good pay by acting as

spy for one Power or another. He complained bitterly that the

Turkish Government never made roads or mended bridges, When he

finds, however, that the new foreign government expects him to

contribute to their making by giving labour, or paying tax, he is

furious. "Liberty" for most Balkan Christians means liberty to

massacre Moslems and take their property. The Bosnian Orthodox

peasant found precisely the same law applied to him and the Moslems.

The strict impartiality observed by the Austrian Government towards

all three sects caused the wrath of all. "What," said a Catholic

fiercely, "can you think of our Government when I tell you that a

priest baptized and converted three Moslem lads, and the Government

actually made him send them back to their parents and censured him

because they were not of age? Not of age, if you please, and so

their souls are not to be saved!"

The Moslem was equally furious with the equality treatment, for he

was no longer top-dog.

The most remarkable work of the Austrian Government gave perhaps the

most offence. It was the medical. The Bosniak, in appearance, is

often a giant. But his appearance is deceptive. Stripped of his

numerous waistcoats his chest measurement, as the military doctors

informed me, is so poor that a larger percentage of Bosniaks were

rejected from the army than in most of the other recruiting

districts of Austria-Hungary. As in all South Slav lands,

tuberculosis raged. "Thirty per cent, affected, without counting an

apex" as a Bosnian doctor told me. And scattered over the country,

but especially virulent on the eastern districts along the Serbian

frontier, was syphilis. In some parts this was so rampant that the

Government posted on the village walls and in the schools, notices

warning persons never to drink from a glass after some one else, or

wipe with the same towel, and other advice. All of which went

against the custom of the people. Against tuberculosis the schools

waged an anti-spitting war. A child who spat on the floor had to

clean it up, which was considered a great indignity and gave great

offence. Compulsory cleaning of streets to a population who regarded

the street as the proper receptacle for all garbage was a further

source of trouble. That the medical work produced a great

improvement, that malaria, by drainage, petroleum on the ponds, and

quininizing of the Population was stamped out in some districts and

got in hand in others counted for nothing. They "were not our

custom," they were "Schwab."

The forests also were a source of friction. In old days the peasant

cut what he pleased, where he pleased. His goats browsed the

saplings and they grew up crooked. But they made firewood and it did

not matter. No replanting ever took place. When all the wood was cut

on a hillside the winter rains washed away the whole of the soil and

left bare rock. A pity--but the will of God, sighed the peasant, and

he went on to fell the next wood.

Forestry laws infuriated him, and his disregard of them infuriated

the forestry officer. A goat-tax (slight for the poor owner of a

couple of goats) was instituted, rising according to number, to a

sum which made the keeping of a large herd impossible. An official,

to whom I remarked on what seemed to me the paucity of flocks, said,

"We do not let them keep goats and they won't keep sheep. For my own

part I should relax the goat laws for a while at least; they cause

such resentment. But the central authorities will not do it. We have

to rely largely on the sale of timber to run the country. It is one

of the most valuable assets."

All officials agreed in finding the people very difficult to move;

very childlike in their ideas and very slow to adopt new ones. A few

hated and loathed them.

It was, however, not the officials but the private residents who

were on bad terms with the native population, families who had come

for business purposes from civilized and comfortable Austrian towns,

and who would not take the trouble to learn Slav except just enough

for their marketing. I had never before been in a land under foreign

occupation, and commented on this attitude to some officers. They

jeered at me and said, "You have evidently never been to Egypt. Wait

till you have seen your own people there."

I was annoyed at the time. But when some years later I went to Egypt

I found the English attitude to the native worse and repented of my

comments about Bosnia. One race in truth cannot see with the eyes of

another.

The Austrian official really tried to adapt the law to native ideas,

and when unable to unravel complicated questions of native usage,

even summoned the ancient council of "the good men" to decide

according to local custom. A good deal of blood-vengeance still

went on, but with the knife; firearms were strictly forbidden, and

very few licences for them issued. This was a source of great

discontent, for the carrying of arms to the South Slav peasant means

manhood. The Christian's idea of liberty is to carry arms. And the

fact that the Moslem also was debarred from so doing in no way

consoled him. In one respect the lack of firearms was a real

hardship, for Bosnia swarmed with wild pig which devastated the

crops. When the corn was standing, peasants sat up all night

drumming on petroleum tins around the fields to drive off beasts.

There were enough wolves also to harry the flocks. An Austrian

official killed ten in one night with strychnine during my visit.

But the natives complained bitterly that the Government did not

permit them to shoot wild beasts and did not keep them down itself.

There was, I was told, very little stealing but, in the forest

districts where the woodcutters all carried long handled hatchets, a

blow with which was invariably fatal, there was a good deal of

slaughter, as in a quarrel a man struck with whatever was handy.

Only if the attack proved to be cold-blooded and pre-arranged was

capital punishment inflicted. Otherwise imprisonment up to twelve

years according to the circumstances.

Wages were low. The peasant was very poor. Very high wages were

obtainable in America, and thousands emigrated thither. They

ascribed this to Austrian rule, but the same thing was happening in

Montenegro, where the Government was vainly trying to stop

emigration by refusing passports. It was simply an economic question

of supply and demand. Labour was wanted in America at any price. The

emigration had the same effect in Bosnia as in Montenegro. A large

surplus of women remained behind, and the birth-rate of illegitimate

children rose high and, as is perhaps inevitable with a military

occupation, prostitution was common. This, though, was not the only

cause of immorality in both Montenegro and Bosnia. In old days all

the women of the family were the property of the men of the family,

who had the right to shoot at sight any man tampering with a wife or

daughter of a family group. A blood vengeance so started might mean

twenty lives. The risks were not to be lightly taken. The

emancipation of women and the restriction of firearms produced new

complications.

The Austrians were rather pleased to see emigrants leaving the land,

and said they hoped they would never come back, so that they could

be replaced by a better population. They were anxious to consolidate

their position in Bosnia as fast as possible, so as to be ready for

a forward move. "Nach Salonik" was a favourite topic of

conversation. A friendly chemist at Fotcha even invited me to have

tea with him under the Austrian flag at Salonika, that day three

years, that is October 1909, by which time he fully expected to be

established there. He considered the Government had been shamefully

slow. They ought already to be well on the way there. I travelled by

train from Ragusa to Mostar with a General and his daughter. She,

who had just arrived, looked with wonder at the bare grey rocks we

passed and asked, "Why ever did we take all these stones, father?"

"Part of the price we paid Europe for Salonika, my dear!" he

replied.

I wintered at Serajevo, and by taking my phonograph to the Moslem

coffee-houses gained some popularity, for there was but one other

such instrument in Serajevo, and you had to pay to hear it. The

Moslems, I soon learnt, wanted only the Padishah and hoped for the

return of the Turk. Several had lived long years in Egypt. But when

I told them I meant to go there they very earnestly begged me not

to. All the English were very soon to be driven out or done away

with, and the company unanimously agreed that it would be a very

great pity that I, who had been so kind as to play the "monogram" to

them for nothing, should be killed out there. I asked them to tell

me truthfully what it was that the English did that was so bad. They

replied very reasonably: "Everything. Nothing you do is as we do.

You make yourselves fine houses and streets in Cairo. Why do you not

make them in your own land and leave our land to us? We hate your

things. The land is now not our land. It is all Alia Franga." You

do not like our ways. We do not like yours. Go and leave our land to

us."

We should say just the same thing, only less politely, were we

"occupied" by the Japanese. They were kind enough to say that the

English were not so bad as the Schwabs, but I fear this was only out

of gratitude for phonograph favours.

In a private room upstairs they sang me a special ballad of the

Greco-Turkish War of 1897, which began by describing how Prince

George of Greece and the British Consul and some other European

officials drank beer together and when they had drunk too much,

planned a treacherous attack upon the Turks. It was a long song and

took four hours to sing--with refreshments in the middle. I did not

stay to the end. Every one, of course, believed in the guilt of the

British Consul.

At Serajevo I got, too, into a very Nationalist Orthodox set through

the Nationalist school kept by Miss Irby. The pro-Serb party was all

Orthodox, wildly anti-Turk and furiously anti-Catholic. All that was

Latinski was abhorrent, and every vice and crime was imputed to the

Catholic clergy. They were represented as fiends in human shape, who

stole people's children and baptized them into the Roman Church. I

had found similar fanaticism among the Montenegrin peasants, but did

not expect it among the educated Bosnian officials and their wives.

They made no secret of being in communication with Serbia, told of

their expedients to smuggle in papers and dodge the police

authorities. And when the windows were carefully shut used to sing

"Onamo, onamo," and other forbidden Nationalist songs. In one

respect I found the Orthodox exactly like the Moslems. They wanted

to be top-dog and suppress the others. A pretty school mistress

complained to me bitterly of the authorities who had put her to

teach in a purely Catholic district, "where I can do no propaganda

at all." She wanted a Parliament for Bosnia, and assured me that as

the Orthodox party Was the largest they would then be able to shout

the others down, from the gallery, and was naively surprised When I

told her that this was forbidden in England, which she had thought

was a free country. She had been taken once to the Budapest

Parliament for the express purpose of screeching all the time

certain members spoke. The debate ended in a free fight, and she had

been hoarse for days.

This idea of freedom is, of course, not unknown in England. It is

the only one existing across the Adriatic. An ardent Great Serbian

once explained: "When Great Serbia is made we mean to have religious

equality everywhere. For instance, in Ragusa there are two

monasteries, both Catholic. This is unjust. When it is ours, one

will be Orthodox and one Catholic."

"Which do you mean to rob then, the Franciscans or the Dominicans?"

he was asked. "Rob!" he said, much hurt. "We are going to make

religious equality. One must be Orthodox and one Catholic." And this

he continued to repeat, though it was urged that in this case one or

the other order must be deprived of its monastery, and that,

moreover, the vast majority of Ragusa is Catholic.

But Liberty is a glorious thing, and I found the Orthodox heartily

approved of Alexander's murder as one step towards it.

By now I had learned that even officials in Austrian employ were

working against the Austrian Government. A friend of mine, who was

also much interested in things South Slavonic, wrote at this time

and suggested I should join the Slovenski Jug Society then recently

formed. But as it was made clear to me that these so-called

patriotic associations were plotting against the Austrian Government

I decided that I, as a British subject, should steer clear of them,

more especially as one could not tell to what lengths they would go.

I had been on the brink of the plot for the destruction of Alexander

Obrenovitch, a sufficiently alarming precedent, so I declined to

become a member of the Slovenski Jug, preferring a front seat at the

drama to being possibly dragged onto the stage.

As one of my objects in this journey was to see Christmas customs in

a peasant house I determined to leave for Montenegro, where I could

do so easily, and left the tense political atmosphere of Bosnia with

some relief.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

1907

Blindly and bloodily we drift.--MASEFIELD.

The thirteen days' difference between the Old and New Style enabled

me to spend Christmas 1906 at Serajevo, and celebrate it a second

time in old Serb fashion in Krsto's hut at Nyegushi in January 1907.

Montenegro lay deep under snow, all mountain tracks buried. Life in

the villages was rough and severe. We celebrated Christmas, the New

Year, the Blessing of the Waters, and St. Sava. But by leaving

Bosnia I had not found peace. The undercurrent of discontent with

the government was more marked than last year. Even in Nyegushi, the

birthplace of the Prince, there were growlings. What was done with

all the money? The most hateful and wearisome work in all the world

was guarding flocks on the mountain. Therefore a herdsman should be

paid more than a chinovnik (official). Nevertheless every youth

aspired to be a chinovnik, because then you could retire early with

a pension. Many men had lately returned from America with pockets

full of cash. They preached that the duty of a government was to

make "jobs." They used the English word, and their audience had not

the least idea what "jobs" meant, except that it was a highly

desirable something which brought in money. America was a republic,

and in America there were "jobs." Therefore, if you had a republic

you would have "jobs." The new Parliament roused no enthusiasm. The

Prince could veto its decisions, and its members had but childish

notions. The old idea of local soviets was not extinct, nor their

rivalry with the tribe next door. Many a member consequently thought

it his duty to his constituents to veto a road for another district,

until his own had been supplied, without seeing that at this rate

nothing could be done. Dr. Marusitch was clamouring to remove the

capital to Danilovgrad, and make other sweeping changes.

Tomanovitch, the Prime Minister, and his son, aide-de-camp to the

Prince, were hated and reported to have sinister influence. Those

still faithful to the Gospodar blamed him for giving up his official

power. Cetinje, however, was excited over a new subject. A manager

from Earl's Court had come to invite Montenegro to take part in a

Balkan States Exhibition. Highly flattered, Montenegro had signed

the agreement without the ghost of idea what to do or how to do it.

The show was to open in May. Montenegro, of course, could not

possibly be ready by then, so I was asked by the committee to write

a letter informing the management that the exhibition must be

postponed till July, or whenever Montenegro was ready. I explained

that this was no use in England. Montenegro must be ready--or drop

out. They argued: "But when the London people hear there is going to

be an exhibition they will change their season to suit it." I

retorted: "Whenever I want you to do something you say: 'Nije nash

obitchaj!'" (It is not our custom). "Now we say this to you." And I

hustled them. Petar Plamenatz was the Secretary for Home Affairs. He

was to give me facts--imports, exports, education, post, telegraph,

etc.--for an article on Montenegro for the catalogue. Every morning

he said: "To-morrow without fail I will give you all the figures."

And every evening: "Mon Dieu, it is impossible. I am tired!" He had

two hours free at midday and all his evenings. At the last minute,

when told the thing must go to press, he said: "But why all this

anxiety about facts, Mademoiselle? Write what you please. I am sure

it will be charming!" I wrote an essay, which necessarily contained

no point of commercial importance, and insisted that he must hear it

before it was sent as an official Montenegrin production. "But I

have a headache," said Petar. "What does that matter?" said I, and I

made him hear it. He said it was admirable, and added no single

fact. And he was one of the Intelligentzia upon whom the fate of

Europe later depended.

At this time I was daily teaching English to one of the

schoolmasters, an interesting task, as it showed me the total lack

of discipline there is in the education of the average Near Eastern.

He had a good deal of brain power and a certain amount of

information, but was totally unable to make himself do anything he

disliked, even when he knew it to be necessary. Would not begin with

simple things because he was not a child. And when he could not

understand difficult ones, flung the papers on the floor and stamped

on them, vowing he would never do English again. I smiled and said:

"Very well. Don't. It does not matter to me. Goodbye." To which he

would exclaim: "Good God, what fish blood. But with your sangfroid

you are a born Professor. I lose my temper with my class twenty

times a day." He had the impossible Near Eastern ideas of Liberty.

Briefly: "Do as you please, and damn the rest!" Was an ardent "Great

Serbian," but was not a Montenegrin, and when "freedom" was attained

hoped to force Montenegro into the correct path. His idea of

education was primitive. He despised every form of game, exercise,

and gymnastics as waste of time, and had never done any himself.

"That is why you are so absurdly neurotic and you have never learnt

to keep your temper." I chaffed him. He retorted: "Fishblood,

fishblood." An interesting specimen of the Intelligentzia.

Meanwhile Prince Nikola became anxious about Earl's Court. He sent

for me, took a gold medal from his breeches pocket, and gave it to

me with the request that I would go to England, see the managers of

the exhibition, and keep an eye on the exhibition when opened. A

staff of Montenegrins was to come over and manage the section.

Meanwhile, in order that it should become widely known, he thought

it would be a good thing if I told all my friends there was going to

be an exhibition, and ask them to tell theirs. Thus the news might

be spread through London.

That exhibition would take a volume in itself. Briefly, Bulgaria,

Serbia, and Montenegro were represented. Montenegro, with

characteristic laisser faire, never appointed a commissary at all,

and the work all fell on me. Fortunately, in fact, for I was the

buffer state between Serbia and Bulgaria, who were at daggers-drawn.

At the necessary meetings the Serb Commissioner talked German and

Serb into one of my ears, while the Bulgar shouted French and Bulgar

into the other, and the English manager at intervals begged me to

"tell him what was the matter." Even when invited out for a day in

the country the Serb and Bulgar peasants refused to dance together.

John Bull did his best to work up an anti-Serb demonstration more

than once. But though we balanced on the edge of hostilities, the

Balkan War did not break out at Earl's Court.

I have often thought since it was a pity the Foreign Office did not

study our methods.

The five Montenegrins who came "to help" were far too proud to do

any work at all, or associate with any of the others. They looked on

the Bulgars as foreigners, and despised the Serbs.

Montenegro's attitude was shown by Petar Plamenatz, who arrived for

a week's visit as special Commissioner for Montenegro just in time

for the opening ceremony, when I had done the whole preliminary work

of arranging the show.

Lord Fitzmaurice invited all the Balkan representatives to lunch. I

translated the invitation to Petar. "I shall not go," said he. "I

have a headache."

"That makes nothing," said I, "you are here to represent Montenegro.

This invitation is an honour, and I accept it for you." Petar was

surprised. He had naively imagined that as Commissioner for

Montenegro it was he who conferred the honour upon Lord Fitzmaurice.

He went, however. I asked how the party had gone off.

"It was really extraordinary," said Petar. "Do you know that of all

the Balkan representatives, I was the only one who knew how to

conduct myself in a comme il faut manner!" The next invitation, a

dinner, he flatly refused to accept. I was still more resolved that

if I had to "run" the exhibition for Montenegro, Petar should

continue to behave comme il faut. He dodged and excused vainly. I

wrung the truth from him. He had no clean shirt. It is the only time

I ever bought an evening shirt for a gentleman.

Petar left after the most strenuous week of his life. Nothing,

however, would induce his five compatriots to do anything at all,

and just as they thought they had demonstrated that as the finest

representatives of the South Slav stock, their mission in life was

to exist and look beautiful, to their intense surprise the

management sent them home.

Meanwhile, our inability to obtain any reply to business questions

from Montenegro was explained by the sudden news of the discovery of

a plot to assassinate Prince Nikola, and, it was said, his family,

too. Our five Montenegrins received letters from home full of the

wildest details, which they all believed, showing that the country

was in a whirl, and that the Exhibition must be steered! without any

further aid from the homeland. Numbers! of arrests had been made.

Russia was said to be implicated in the plot, for the girls of the

Russian Institute had trampled on the Prince's portrait at the

bidding of Sofia Petrovna, its head!

After this the whole work of the Montenegrin section was wasted. Not

one of the trade openings we found--some very good--were taken up,

and no letters were replied to.

Montenegro, though she did not realize it, had in truth reached the

turning-point of her history. She was no longer the recognized

leader of the Great Serbian movement. During the years when Serbia

was "in Coventry" Montenegro had done nothing to strengthen her

position, save some futile posing to journalists as "the one good

boy." Now Serbia, with Russia behind her, was to the fore.

Montenegro's tide was about to ebb. I wrote strongly to the

Montenegrin Government that it was most necessary to appoint a

representative in London. I would not myself go on doing the work of

a consul Without authority or pay. Preferably they should send a

Montenegrin. If not, I suggested two Englishmen willing to do the

work, one of whom they appointed next year.

It was a step in advance, but it was too late. Serbia, completely

whitewashed, re-established a Legation and a commercial agency, and

began an energetic propaganda.

Meanwhile an event of world-wide importance Took place. On August

31, 1907, the Anglo-Russian agreement was signed. The Anglo-Russian

difficulties of the Middle East were arranged, and Russia was free

to turn all her attention towards Constantinople.

She was lavishly supplied with French gold, and could count on

French military support. France was already arming and aiding her

Balkan ally, Serbia. And Russia, without doubt, was aware of the

"military conversations" of France and England. Possibly the

agreement with Russia was one outcome of them. It is noteworthy that

though England had "agreed" with Russia, so little did she realize

the possibilities of the Near East, that we were the only Great

Power which had no permanent representative in Montenegro, and no

representative at all on the East of the Balkan peninsula, save Mr.

Summa, our Albanian Vice-consul at Scutari.

Austria retorted to the steps being taken by the Russo-French group

by obtaining from the Sultan permission to build a railway from

Uvatz, on the Bosnian frontier, to Mitrovitza, which would link up

Serajevo with Salonika.

The Balkan railway question had been rankling for years. The Slav

wanted an east-and-west line to connect with the Adriatic. The

Teuton a north-south one to reach the Aegean. Neither would allow

the other's plan to mature. I used to get much amusement in mixed

company by proposing various railway lines and hearing the violent

denunciations or applause that followed, according to the political

aims of those present.

The Turks have been freely blamed for neither constructing railways

nor allowing others to do so. But to be fair, one is bound to admit

that they knew very well such lines would be used for strategical

purposes, and they lived in terror of the Slav Adriatic line. Before

judging Abdul Hamid harshly, let us consider at what period we

should have allowed Russia to build and control a line across India

"to advance trade."

The year 1908 opened with the railway question. Russia and Serbia

furious about the Uvatz-Mitrovitza scheme. The Morning Post, it is

of interest to note, was markedly pro-Austrian.

I remembered four points: (1) The Austrians' boast that they would

be in Salonika by 1909; (2) The Pasha of Plevlje's statement that

Austria had more troops in the Sanjak than she was entitled to; (3)

The oft-repeated statement of Serb and Montenegrin that the Austrian

gendarmerie officers superintending "reforms" in Macedonia smuggled

in arms; (4) That Serbs and Montenegrins were also arming and

carrying on a sharp Great Serbian propaganda in Bosnia, the

Herzegovina, and the Sanjak.

In the great race Austria now seemed a neck ahead, riding Uvatz to

Salonika.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

1908. A FATEFUL YEAR

Europe was now definitely divided into two camps, each arming

against the other. Plots thickened, and events crowded on one

another. So knotted did the Balkan threads become, it is hard to

untwine them. One thing must be remembered, and that is that at the

centre of the knot was always Constantinople. To which Power or

group should it belong?

I arrived in Cetinje at the end of April to find things about as bad

as they could be. Depression was general, and the place in a hush of

terror. Every one hastened to warn me against every one else. The

Prince was due next day on his return from Petersburg, whence great

things were expected, and a general holiday was proclaimed in honour

of the event. Mourning added to the general gloom, for the two

infant sons of Prince Mirko, the only direct heirs to the throne,

had died within a month or two of each other of tubercular

meningitis. Baby Stefan had been playfully called Stefan Dushan II,

with the hope that he would reign at Prizren--and he was dead. All

hope of a child to Prince Danilo had been given up; much had died

with Baby Stefan. Some even hinted at foul play, but this suspicion

was quite groundless, for tuberculosis was rapidly spreading in the

land; it is worth mentioning only as showing the mental state of the

country.

On the other side were murmurs deep and sinister against the Prince

and his line, the first growl of a storm. The prisons were full.

Folk whispered of many untried prisoners. Some Who had befriended me

in former years were not only in prison, but in heavy irons

--Gjurovitch, who had been a minister, and poor garrulous Dr.

Marusitch. His wife had snatched her husband's revolver and fired at

the gendarme who arrested him. The peasants of Drobnjak had tried to

prevent the arrest of Serb agents who were distributing

revolutionary leaflets, printed in Belgrade. Soldiers were sent to

enforce the arrests. Some had refused to act, and had had some heavy

sentences inflicted on them. It was all part of the Great Serbian

movement. The Montenegrin Government would send no more students to

Belgrade to be corrupted.

The very morning after my arrival Tomanovitch, the Prime Minister,

sent for me. He was extremely anxious and nervous, and asked what

the English papers said about the plot against Prince Nikola. I told

him the English Press had said little beyond reporting unrest in

Montenegro. He hurried to deny there was any, and said he wished me

to know the truth. Prince Nikola had behaved with the greatest

moderation, and had even permitted Dr. Marusitch to visit his sick

child. The plot against the Prince had been planned by wicked

enemies from outside. What did I intend writing to the papers on the

subject?

I had been but a few hours in Cetinje, but perceived the affair was

a bad one, and as I knew people on both sides it would be hard to

avoid being dragged into it. I replied therefore that I had written

nothing, and intended writing nothing to the papers, and wished to

take no part in Montenegro's internal affairs. He was visibly

relieved and thanked me. We parted on friendly terms, he assuring me

that he wanted me to know the "truth." So did every one else. And it

was always different. One side said that so soon as the people had

had a voice, a wild scramble for place and power had ensued; that

"freedom of the Press" had loosed such a flood of scurrility, abuse,

and libel that it had to be suppressed by force; that finding

themselves thwarted, a gang of malcontents had plotted to

assassinate the Prince--some said Prince Danilo, too--and to seize

power themselves; that they had been in communication with Russia

and Serbia, and had arranged the affair in the latter country; that

severe example should be made, and wholesale executions take place.

On the other hand, folk said that the Prince, furiously jealous of

power, had offered the "Constitution" merely as a pretence to Europe

that he was up-to-date, and had so arranged as to retain autocracy;

that he purposely suppressed knowledge, kept out literature, and

encouraged only the narrowest education in order to retain power and

keep folk ignorant; that those arrested were the cream of the land,

all the most advanced spirits, all those who were for civilization;

that even schoolboys had been hunted down like wild beasts and

thrown into prison as political offenders; that no one's life was

safe; that spies were everywhere, who curried favour with the

Petrovitches by the numbers they arrested; that the prisoners were

miserably maltreated. The more moderate declared the Prince to be

helpless in a "ring;" that by rashly giving the Constitution he had

deprived himself largely of power, and no longer knew what went on;

that, till he gave up administering justice eight years before, he

had been "the father of his flock," and knew all about everything.

Now he had lost touch and would never regain it. They hoped for a

general amnesty of all prisoners. The Prince's return from Russia

was melancholy. He was reported to be suffering from a feverish

attack, and the Princess, too, was very unwell. His journey was

believed to have been a failure.

The Russians of Cetinje received me with extraordinary enthusiasm.

Filled with joy for the Anglo-Russian agreement, Sofia Petrovna, of

the Russian Institute, kissed me over and over again. The Institute

was a feature of Cetinje, and Sofia Petrovna was its queen. It was

the Pan-Slav centre of the whole district, where Slav girls, brought

in from Turkish and Austrian districts--girls from Prizren, girls

from Bosnia and Dalmatia, as well as Montenegrin girls, were brought

up to Serbism and belief in Holy Russia. Mademoiselle was stout,

ruddy, And amazingly energetic; autocratic, but good-natured. Her

lean, restless-eyed subordinate, Alexandrovna, however, drove the

pupils the way they should go with pitiless severity, and perhaps as

a result the girls of the Institute were all said to leave it

finished intriguers.

The glory of Holy Russia was what Sofia Petrovna lived for. Russia

and England were now united, and she dreamed dreams and saw visions.

Russia's path was clear. Her dominion over all Europe and all Asia

merely a matter of time. Sofia was enchanted. "Ah, my dear! What is

your Empire? Your ambitions are nothing to ours. Nothing, nothing.

Till now you have stood in our path. Now we shall march together.

Russia is God's agent. You will give us your practicalness. We shall

give you our beautiful religion. For at present you know you have

none!" Borne on a wave of enthusiasm, she pressed me to spend Good

Friday and Easter Sunday at the Institute and take part in the

celebrations.

The gathering was very Russian. I was astonished at the difference

made by the Anglo-Russian agreement. Hitherto the Legation had been

distantly polite. Had sometimes asked questions, but never supplied

information. Now nothing could exceed their friendliness. Together

England and Russia were to fight Germany, and I said in vain I had

no wish to. "Your commerce necessitates it," they declared. They

considered Austria's railway scheme to Salonika as a direct insult

"which we shall never permit." About Montenegro they despaired. The

Prince was riding to ruin. All Russians who visited him were pained

to find him surrounded with Austrian Slavs, Gregovitch, Tomanovitch,

Ramadanovitch, even his doctor, Perisitch--all from Austria. The

very servants in the palaces often Austrian or German. The arrests

had been directed by senseless fear; he had alienated the sympathy

of the best in the land; could brook no rival; had quarrelled with

his Petrovitch relations; listened only to flatterers who directed

him against Russia. Finally, they blamed him severely for the

Constitution, which he had promulgated! without consulting Russia..

Even she--Sofia Petrovna--who had given twenty years of her life to

Montenegro and spared no pains; even she was now the victim of

anti-Russian intrigue, and accused of the childish folly of bidding

her girls trample on the Prince's portrait! Her girls--in a school

paid for largely by the Dowager Tsaritsa! Oh, it was too much. And

the Prince had believed it, and informed her that never again would

the Royal Family visit the school (nor, in fact, did they). Tears

stood in the poor lady's eyes. Her school had been the meeting-place

of the intelligentzia. Ministers, priests, and officials had sought

her advice. Now persons wishing to curry favour with the Prince had

maligned her.

A lying, treacherous race, said one of the Russians. But poor Sofia,

through her tears, said they were foolish and misled. Both she and

the Secretary of Legation wanted me to ask, for an audience with the

Prince, but I decided not to be mixed in anybody's plots, so merely

left a card at the Palace, where I learnt that the Prince was still

very unwell. A report of a conversation between Vesnitch, Serbian

Minister in Paris, and Izvolsky, October 1908 (see Bogitchcvitch,

xvii), throws light on what had occurred. "You must," said Izvolsky,

"however, soon come to an understanding with Montenegro. The

scandalous discord which exists between Belgrade and Cetinje must be

cleared off the carpet. We have most urgently pressed this on Prince

Nikola when he was in Petersburg." The Prince, we may surmise, went

to ask Russian support, received no sympathy, began to realize he

was no longer Russia's "only friend," and was filled with sick

anxiety.

The Montenegrins, too, were much excited about the Anglo-Russian

agreement. Vuko Vuletitch said cheerfully: "Now you can fight

Germany." And the usual group round the hotel door cried: "Of course

you will. For what else is this Entente? You must fight soon, or you

will lose all your trade." They looked forward to an Anglo-Russian

Paradise, where the Teuton ceased from troubling. I fear it is not

so joyful as they anticipated.

Vuko Vukotitch was as sore as Sofia Petrovna. He, too, had been

accused of anti-Petrovitch sympathies, and threatened with the

boycott of his hotel. He was seeking influential marriages for his

many daughters. The eldest, Madame Rizoff, as wife of the Bulgarian

diplomatic agent, was already playing a part in politics. Rumour

said he had been on the point of affiancing another to one of the

men now in prison.

I decided that Cetinje was no place for me, and that I would carry

out my long deferred plan of a tour in the Albanian mountains. Sofia

Petrovna pressed upon me an introduction to M. Lobatcheff, the

Russian Vice-Consul at Scutari, and thither I went, leaving Cetinje

to stew in its own juice. It was anthropology I wanted, not plots.

My work and travels in High Albania I have told elsewhere. I shall

here only indicate the political happenings, for I did not escape

them by going from Montenegro. In the Balkans you may change your

mind any number of times, but you never change your sky full of

Power-clouds.

All Europe was represented at Scutari, as in Cetinje, but by

Consuls, not Ministers. A difference mainly in name, for they were

there for the same purpose, and in Turkish territory even a

Vice-Consul, if of an energetic and bullying nature, had almost as

much influence as a Minister Plenipotentiary. For the Turks lived in

terror of the Great Powers who squatted round the edge waiting an

opportunity to pounce, and allowed consuls to do things unthinkable

in any other land. During the late war America was roused to frenzy

because the German representatives there tried to work a German

propaganda. But for over a century the representative of every Power

that wanted a bit of Turkey, not only worked ceaselessly by similar

means, but had a private post office by which to convey and

distribute the correspondence of any revolutionaries his country was

supporting; had spies everywhere, and could, should any of his

minions be caught red-handed by the Turkish authorities, obtain and

demand their release, if not by fair means, then by foul. The Turks

could not even close a brothel, if protected, as it frequently was,

by a Great Power.

In Scutari, in 1908, Austria and Italy were both working strenuously

to obtain influence over Albania. Austria had had a long start.

Italy was now a good second. One made a hospital, the other replied

with a home for the aged. One played a dispensary, the other an

infant school, and so on, regardless of expense. Russia, who hoped

ultimately to obtain Albanian lands for the Serbs, made a very bad

third, for the Slav element in Scutari and its district was so small

as to be practically negligible, and she could not work, as did her

rivals, by means of churches and schools. There were but a few Slav

families, mainly those whose ancestors had fled from Montenegro or

the Herzegovina to escape from bloodvengeance, with a sprinkling of

late comers who were "wanted" by the Montenegrin police. A tiny

school and church were all they could fill. M. Lobatcheff and Petar

Plamenatz, however, gave all their energies to working on this

element and keeping it as discontented as possible.

Lobatcheff was very friendly to me. Being introduced by the Russians

in Cetinje, I was expected to supply and convey information. The

politics of the little consular world are funny. I found that the

fact that he--Lobatcheff--representing All the Russias, had as a

mere Vice-Consul to walk behind Petar Plamenatz, representing All

Montenegro as a Consul-General, rankled most bitterly. He, too, like

the Russian Legation at Cetinje, made no concealment of his belief

that Montenegro had taken the wrong turning, and was on the down

grade; said the Prince, after the wholesale arrests of last summer,

would never regain his position and popularity. But I would not be

attached to the Russian consulate, nor to any other party, and made

the acquaintance also of the attache to the Austrian Consulate, a

charming and cultivated Viennese, who was my very good friend.