THE SERVIAN DYNASTIES
Karageorge—Milosh Obrenovitch—Murder of Karageorge—Turkey
Grants the Title of Prince—Milosh Abdicates—Abdication of Prince
Michael—Alexander Abdicates—Prince Milosh Re-installed, His Death
and the Re-election of Prince Michael—Murder of Michael—Prince
Milan’s Marriage, Abdication and Death—Alexander Elected.
The very early history of Servia and her peoples has been daubed so
freely with myth and fable that it would be confusing and tedious to
enter into it. Instead, I shall confine myself to the brief narration
of the two later dynasties, explanatory of the world-renowned friction
between them.
Of all the capitals of the world none deserves more unquestionably the
sobriquet of “The Capital of Crime,” as I have named a later chapter,
than that of Servia. Since the beginning of the nineteenth century four
reigning monarchs have been ruthlessly murdered in or near Belgrade,
and four others have been forced to abdicate. What would have been
the fate of these latter had they not foreseen it can readily be
imagined. King-killing is chronic with the Servians and there are
to-day twenty-nine men incarcerated in the prison at Belgrade, charged
with plotting against the life of the present ruler, King Peter
Karageorgevitch.
The history of these national tragedies, the latest of which, in 1903,
shocked the civilized world, begins with the histories of the two royal
families of Servia, and takes us back a hundred years, to a time when
the country was suffering the most from the perennial invasions of the
bloodthirsty Mohammedans.
“The end of the year 1801 saw Servia a prey to systematized vandalism.
It was a reign of unexampled tyranny and cruelty. The bloodthirstiness
of the Sultan’s janizaries increased like the strength of a torrent.
The Dahis, in obedience to the Sultan’s firmans, commissioned murderers
to proceed through Servia and kill all the mayors of towns and
villages, chiefs of cantons, priests and monks. A wave of terror swept
over the land, spreading panic in every direction. Mothers hugged
their children to their breasts and men in hushed whispers spoke of
self-destruction as a less miserable fate than falling into the hands
of the Turks. Every male over seven years of age was to be destroyed.
But something in the Servians which had hitherto lain dormant, a spirit
of manhood which had not been manifested before, arose under the whip
of the gigantic thraldom; seemingly the crushed and oppressed drew
breath, the instinct of self-preservation kindled in their hearts, and
the embers burst out into a new flame of patriotism.”
Such, then, happened to be the deplorable conditions in Servia when
George Petrovich, or Kara-George, a poverty-stricken peasant of a fiery
temperament, but a man of dominating energy, morose and taciturn,
imbued with this patriotic flame, descended from the little village
of Topola where he made his home. By means of his character and
personal magnetism he rallied his countrymen and posted the now-famed
proclamation, which called upon the whole of Servia to rise against the
Turks. The latter were driven from the country after a siege of eight
days, and for nine years Karageorge ruled in Servia and kept at bay the
subjects of the Sultan.
But in 1813, the Turks, encouraged by the jealousy which had been
impregnated in the hearts of the military chiefs on account of the
pre-eminence of Karageorge, proclaimed a holy war. In vain did the
peasant leader appeal to his people to withstand the attacks of the
Mohammedans and, in the end, he fled disgusted to his mountain home.
It was at this time that the Servians found a new champion in Milosh
Obrenovitch, General of Rudneek under Karageorge, and, after a
successful campaign against the Turks, he was proclaimed a hero.
Karageorge, off among the hills, was loth to see this Milosh taking his
place in the hearts of his people, so, in 1817, disregarding utterly
the orders of the Vizir and the advices of Milosh himself, he decided
to return to his subjects. He stopped for the night at the house of
Semendria Vouitza, who, oblivious to the old ties of friendship and his
duties as a host, murdered his guest as he slept, and who knows but at
the instigation of Milosh Obrenovitch?
This, then, was the first of the Servian royal tragedies, and the
beginning of the deep and terrible feud between the families of
Karageorge and Obrenovitch, the latest victims of which were the
unfortunate and weakly King Alexander, the last Obrenovitch, and his
queen, Draga, in 1903.
In 1830 Turkey permitted Milosh to assume the title of “Prince Milosh
Obrenovitch I.” By this action she yielded to Servia’s demands, for
Turkey had suffered defeat in the hands of the Russians in 1829, and
Russia was literally the sponsor of Servia. But in 1839 the broil
between the old adherents of Karageorge and the followers of his
successor, far worse than mere family jealousies, because it divided
a nation, caused the abdication of Prince Milosh in favour of his
elder son, Prince Milan, who held the reins of government but a few
short weeks when he died and his brother, Prince Michael, assumed the
leadership of the Servians.
Only three years later Prince Michael was compelled to resign and
Alexander, son of Karageorge, was elected in his stead. The year 1859
witnessed the enforced resignation of Alexander and the re-instalment
of old Prince Milosh Obrenovitch, who had answered the fickle summons
to return to his people. He died the following year, and Prince Michael
was, for the second time, made the reigning head of Servia.
The fact that Michael’s wife, who was Princess Julia, a descendant of
a royal Hungarian family and maid of honour to the Empress of Austria,
was childless gave rise to the dastardly Karageorgevitch plot to put an
end to the Obrenovitch dynasty by the murder of her husband. Milosh
Obrenovitch, junior, so to speak, a grand-nephew of Prince Michael, was
the only heir to the Servian throne and the would-be regicides were
confident that a new constitution might be proclaimed in favour of
Peter Karageorgevitch, the present ruler and a grandson of the peasant,
Black George. The sooner this should be attempted the better, for was
not Prince Michael even then contemplating the divorce of his wife, in
order that he might marry Katrine Constantinovitch, his cousin, and so
insure an heir to the throne in the birth of a son?
June 10, 1868, was the day set for the tragedy.
Taking advantage of the Prince’s custom of driving unattended by
military escort through the deer park at Topchidere, four men, all
criminals with notorious careers, met him along the road as he drove in
his carriage with Katrine Constantinovitch and two other relatives. As
the Prince’s carriage advanced, these four men stepped to one side and
bared their heads in recognition of his Royal Highness. Hardly had he
passed when they fired simultaneously upon the royal party, killing the
Prince almost instantly and mortally wounding Mlle. Constantinovitch.
Owing to a mishap to the carriage of the conniving news-bearer the true
tale of the tragedy reached Belgrade before him and it was only through
the masterful diplomacy of M. Petrovitch Blasnavatz, the Minister
of War, that the throne of Servia was saved for the young Milan
Obrenovitch.
In 1872 Prince Milan reached his majority and three years later, in
Vienna, fell in love with the beautiful, charming Roumanian princess,
Natalie, who was destined to play such a prominent role in the future
of the Servian nation. To their union was born a son, Prince Alexander,
“Little Sasha,” as the Servians lovingly called him. Natalie was
popular with her subjects, and in many ways their love for her was made
manifest. On one occasion, when she lay confined in her apartments
before the birth of Alexander, the people walked along the street in
front of the palace on tiptoe and spoke only in whispers, so fearful
were they of disturbing her quiet.
But Milan, although a devoted parent and an unimpeachable patriot and
ruler, proved himself nothing less than a Machiavellian roué. The
persistent outcries against his dual life gained Natalie a divorce,
which was subsequently revoked on account of her refusal to leave the
country. Then, because of the continued murmurs of the Karageorgevitch
faction against him, Milan abdicated and bade farewell to the “Little
Sasha” on March 6, 1889. He died later in Vienna financially,
physically and morally bankrupt.
[Illustration: THE LATE KING ALEXANDER OF SERVIA.]